Maya's POV
I couldn't cry.
That was the worst part. Standing at my father's grave while three hundred people pretended to mourn, and I couldn't squeeze out a single tear.
Maybe I'd used them all up three days ago when the police came to my art gallery. Ms. Sinclair, there's been an accident. Your father's car went off Mountain Ridge Road. The brakes failed. He didn't survive.
My best friend Reyna squeezed my hand so hard my fingers went numb. You're doing great, she whispered.
I wasn't doing anything. I was a statue in a black dress while men in expensive suits calculated how my father's death would affect their stock portfolios.
The priest said something about ashes and dust. I stopped listening.
That's when I saw him.
A man standing separate from the crowd, watching me with eyes so intense I felt them like a physical touch. Tall, dark-haired, dangerous-looking in a way that had nothing to do with his expensive suit. While everyone else pretended to mourn, he just... stared.
At me.
Not at the casket. Not at the priest. At me.
Our eyes locked across the cemetery, and something electric shot through my chest. Recognition? Impossible. I'd never seen him before.
But he looked at me like he knew me. Like he was memorizing every detail of my face.
Then his jaw clenched, and he looked away first, his hands curling into fists at his sides.
Who was he?
Maya? Reyna's voice pulled me back. You okay?
That man, I whispered. The tall one by the oak trees. Who is he?
Reyna followed my gaze, but he'd moved. Now he stood with five other people I didn't recognize, a beautiful blonde checking her phone, an older Asian man who looked genuinely sad, a younger woman in gray standing perfectly still, an elegant woman who carried herself like a doctor, and a charming man whose smile made my skin crawl.
Six strangers. Standing together but separate from everyone else.
I don't know any of them, Reyna said.
But the dark-haired man looked at me again, and this time there was something in his expression that made my breath catch. Grief? Guilt?
Warning?
We're ready to lower the casket, the funeral director murmured beside me.
I watched my father disappear into the earth and felt nothing but ice in my veins.
Someone killed you, Daddy. I know they did.
The crowd began to disperse. Politicians pressed my hand. My Aunt Elise whispered about the will. Everyone left.
Except him.
The dark-haired man stayed by the trees, still watching. The other five had gone, but he remained, like a guardian or a ghost.
I walked back to the grave, Reyna trailing behind me. A single white rose sat at the base of the headstone.
And underneath it, a black envelope.
My hands shook as I picked it up. Heavy paper. My name in gold ink.
Inside, a card:
The Reading of Richard Sinclair's Last Will and Testament
Tomorrow, 10:00 AM
Your attendance is mandatory.
Your life changes forever.
I turned it over.
On the back, in my father's handwriting: Trust no one. Especially them.
Maya? Reyna moved closer. What does it say?
Before I could answer, I heard footsteps behind me.
I spun around.
The dark-haired man stood ten feet away, close enough now that I could see the sharp angles of his face, the barely controlled tension in his shoulders, the way his dark eyes tracked me like I was something fragile that might shatter.
You shouldn't be here alone, he said. His voice was deep, rough, and did something strange to my pulse.
I'm not alone. I lifted my chin. Who are you?
Someone who failed your father. The words came out bitter. And I won't fail you too.
That's not an answer.
It's the only one I can give right now. He took a step closer, and I should have stepped back. Should have felt threatened.
Instead, I felt... safe? Which made no sense.
Tomorrow at the will reading, he said quietly, you're going to learn things about your father that will hurt. I'm sorry for that. But Maya My name in his mouth made my breath hitch. be careful who you trust. Including me.
Why would I trust you? I don't even know your name.
Damien Cross. Another step closer. Your father's head of security. I was supposed to protect him, and I failed. So now I protect you, whether you want me to or not.
I don't need
Yes, you do. His eyes burned into mine. You just don't know it yet.
My phone buzzed. Unknown number.
I broke eye contact with Damien, God, even his name sounds dangerous—and looked at the screen.
A text message: Your father had secrets, Maya Sinclair. Secrets worth killing for. Tomorrow you'll learn the first one. But will you survive learning the rest?
I looked up, heart racing.
Damien was gone.
Disappeared like smoke.
Did you see where he went? I asked Reyna.
Who?
The man who was just here!
Reyna looked confused. Maya, no one was here. Just us.
But I could still feel the heat of his gaze on my skin. Could still hear his voice saying my name.
Be careful who you trust. Including me.
I stared at the six spots where the strangers had stood during the funeral. Empty now.
But tomorrow, I'd see them all again.
Including Damien Cross.
The man who looked at me like I was worth dying for.
Or killing for.