Chapter 1

The taxi pulled up in front of Smith Hotels and Towers, and Evelyn Smith barely registered the driver’s words as he announced their arrival. She had been lost in thought, staring out the window at the drizzling rain coating the city streets. Snapping back to reality, she quickly paid the fare, grabbed her shopping bags, and hurried inside.

The grand lobby of Smith Hotels was a testament to her family's legacy. Its high ceilings adorned with intricate chandeliers exuded sophistication, while polished marble floors reflected the golden glow of warm lighting. Guests bustled about, their conversations blending into a low hum. The air was filled with the scent of fresh flowers from the elaborate arrangements placed at every turn. It was a scene of elegance, yet tonight, something felt different—off.

Evelyn smiled warmly at Jarvis, the hotel’s longtime doorman, as he rushed to take the bags from her.

"Ms. Smith, your mother is waiting in the open café," he informed her politely.

Evelyn nodded in gratitude. "Thank you, Jarvis. Could you have these sent up to the penthouse?"

"Of course, ma’am."

She made her way through the bustling corridors, weaving past hotel guests and staff as she approached the elegant open café. The soothing sound of water trickling from the marble waterfall at the center of the room offered a stark contrast to the tension growing in her chest. There, sitting at a small table draped with crisp white linen, was her mother, Olivia Smith—composed and graceful, as always, though the faint lines of worry on her face did not escape Evelyn’s notice.

"Sorry I’m late," Evelyn said, leaning down to kiss her mother’s cheek before taking the seat across from her. "Stacy insisted on visiting every boutique in the city, and time got away from us."

Olivia smiled knowingly. "Your cousin has always had an eye for fashion. I imagine she’s in full wedding-planning mode?"

Evelyn nodded, rolling her eyes playfully. "Absolutely. She’s both excited and terrified at the same time. But enough about weddings. How’s Dad?"

At the mention of her father, Olivia’s smile faltered. She hesitated, stirring her tea absently before looking up. "He’s… handling things as best he can, but there’s been some troubling news."

Evelyn’s fingers tensed around the rim of her glass. "What do you mean? Is something wrong?"

Before Olivia could answer, her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen, and all color drained from her face. Her usually steady hands trembled as she lifted the device.

"It’s the hospital."

A cold wave of dread washed over Evelyn as Olivia answered the call. A few seconds passed—agonizingly slow—before Olivia’s breath hitched.

"Your father… he’s had a heart attack."

The world around Evelyn blurred. The soft chatter of guests, the distant melody of the grand piano, the aroma of roasted coffee—all faded into insignificance. Her heart pounded as she shot to her feet, knocking over her glass in the process.

"We need to go!" she said, her voice urgent.

Olivia, already pale, nodded and fumbled for her purse. "I’ll have the driver bring the car around."

The next few minutes were a chaotic blur. Evelyn barely registered the concerned glances from hotel staff as she half-ran toward the exit, her heels clicking against the floor. The sleek black town car pulled up, and she yanked the door open, ushering her mother inside before sliding in herself. The moment the door shut, she turned to Olivia.

"Did they say how bad it is?" Evelyn’s voice was barely a whisper, laced with fear.

"No details… Just that he was taken into emergency care." Olivia’s hands clutched her purse tightly, as if it were the only thing grounding her.

Evelyn’s chest tightened. Dad can’t be sick. He never gets sick. He had always been the strongest person she knew, larger than life, commanding in every room he entered. The thought of him vulnerable, hooked up to machines, was unfathomable.

The ride to the hospital felt like an eternity. Rain pattered against the windows, blurring the city lights beyond. Evelyn’s mind raced through every possibility. Could stress have caused this? He had been working harder than ever, dealing with increased pressure from shareholders. Maybe this was just exhaustion catching up to him.

But deep down, another possibility nagged at her. A name. A presence she had felt looming in the distance, waiting to strike.

Lucas Martin.

Her stomach twisted at the thought. She hadn’t spoken his name in years, yet suddenly, she couldn’t ignore the uneasy feeling creeping through her. Was this his doing?

When they arrived at the hospital, Olivia barely waited for the car to stop before stepping out. Evelyn followed, her pulse racing as they rushed inside. The sharp scent of antiseptic filled her nose, sterile and cold. At the front desk, a nurse directed them toward the ICU.

"Mr. Smith is in critical condition," the nurse informed them softly, guiding them toward the waiting area. "The doctor will speak with you soon."

Evelyn swallowed hard. Critical. The word sent a fresh wave of panic through her. She turned to Olivia, who had taken a seat, gripping the armrests as if steadying herself.

Minutes passed like hours. Then, finally, the doors swung open, and a doctor approached them.

"Mrs. Smith, Miss Smith," he greeted, his expression carefully neutral. "Your father is stable for now, but the next 24 hours are crucial. The heart attack was severe, and we had to perform an emergency procedure to clear the blockage. He is sedated, but you can see him briefly."

Relief and fear clashed within Evelyn. He’s alive. But for how long?

She and Olivia followed the doctor into the ICU. The sight of her father—so strong, so invincible—lying motionless against stark white sheets with monitors beeping around him nearly broke her. She clenched her fists, fighting back tears. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Her father had built an empire. He had always been in control. But now, he looked fragile, helpless.

And Evelyn vowed, right then and there, that she would not let this be the end.

As she stood by his bedside, a storm brewed inside her. She didn’t know how, but she would get to the bottom of this. If Lucas Martin had anything to do with this, she would make sure he regretted ever stepping foot into their lives again.

The game had begun.