Chapter 1

The newsroom smelled like burnt coffee and desperation. I sat at my desk, staring at the file that had been haunting me all day. Disappearances. Deaths. A string of lives snuffed out, and not a single solid lead. Every page I flipped through felt heavier than the last.

Alex’s words echoed in my mind: “You wanted a big story, Renee? Well, here it is. Find the truth.”

When my editor handed me this assignment, he’d smiled like he was doing me a favor. “This is it. But don’t get cocky. People don’t come back from this kind of story.”

But I wasn’t just anyone.

I’d promised myself I wouldn’t get in too deep. Just follow the leads, connect the dots, and let the story speak for itself. But no matter how many leads I chased, none of them were enough. If I wanted answers—real answers—I’d have to get close to Luca.

Luca Del Vecchio. His name had been whispered in every corner of this city—the billionaire who threw extravagant charity galas by day and ran the city’s underworld by night. No one said it outright, of course. You didn’t accuse Luca of anything if you wanted to live to see the sunrise.

After weeks of digging through police reports and whispered rumors, I hit a wall. Luca Delvecchio’s name hovered over everything—every unexplained disappearance, every death labeled a “tragic accident”—but there was nothing solid to tie him to any of it. His tracks were immaculate. No one could touch him, and no one dared to try.

I needed a way in, something to crack his perfect facade. The usual routes—sources, surveillance, a well-timed question or two—had gotten me nowhere. Luca didn’t leave breadcrumbs; he left a maze. And the only way to the center was through him.

It was during a late-night dive into his public life that I saw the pattern. Charity events. Glamorous parties. Lavish galas. The man practically paraded himself in front of the world, always flanked by the same kind of women: tall, poised, and dressed to kill.

The realization hit me like a gut punch. Luca didn’t take meetings or answer questions, but he noticed people. Or rather, he noticed the right kind of people. If I wanted access to his world, I couldn’t just be the curious journalist with a notebook and a press badge. I had to be someone he couldn’t ignore.

It wasn’t just Luca I was researching; it was everything about him—his habits, his movements, the people in his orbit. I poured over photos from galas and charity events, dissecting every detail: the way he stood, the way others deferred to him, the people he let close.

But it wasn’t just the power he exuded that stood out. It was the women. They were always there, clinging to his arm or laughing at his side. They weren’t just accessories; they were deliberate choices. Each one looked like they’d stepped out of a high-fashion magazine—sleek, elegant, and perfectly curated. They weren’t just beautiful; they were untouchable.

At first, I dismissed it as coincidence. But as I clicked through photo after photo, I realized it wasn’t. Luca didn’t surround himself with anyone by accident. Every move he made was intentional, every detail part of a bigger picture.

The idea hit me after hours of research. Every woman he’d ever been linked to had the same look: stunning, polished, untouchable. I didn’t look like them, but I could.

By the time I wrapped up at the office, the newsroom was nearly empty, save for a few reporters still hammering away at their keyboards. My desk, cluttered with coffee cups and crumpled notes, was a testament to a long day of dead-end leads. I grabbed my bag and shrugged on my coat, my thoughts already on the evening ahead.

This assignment was unlike anything I’d taken before. Normally, I’d share the bare bones of my stories with Lilian—it was our thing, dissecting my work over takeout or drinks. But this one felt different. Bigger. Riskier. And until I had a solid foothold, I wasn’t saying a word. Superstition? Maybe. Survival instinct? Definitely.

I slipped into my car, tossing my bag onto the passenger seat before heading toward Lilian’s office. As I drove through the city’s chaotic streets, my mind raced through everything I’d pieced together so far. Every lead, every dead end, all pointing to Luca Delvecchio. I needed a way into his world, and tonight was the first step.

By the time I pulled up outside Lilian’s office, the sun was already setting, painting the city in gold and pink hues. She climbed into the passenger seat, tossing her bag in the back.

“Regent Towers? Really?” she said, fastening her seatbelt. “You finally stumbled onto unimaginable wealth, or should I be worried you’re selling organs now?”

I laughed, shifting into drive. “Neither. It’s for a story.”

Lilian shot me a look. “Since when do your stories involve high-end boutiques and formal gowns? Don’t tell me you’re going undercover at a wedding.”

I kept my eyes on the road, smirking. “Not quite. I just need to look like… someone else for a night. Someone glamorous, irresistible—someone people can’t stop staring at.”

Lilian leaned back, crossing her arms. “You’re not giving me much to work with. What’s the big secret?”

“You know me, Lil,” I said, grinning. “I don’t talk about plans until they’re set in stone. Superstition.”

“Fine,” she huffed dramatically, though I caught her smile. “But I expect full credit for transforming you into the belle of the ball.”

“You’ll get credit,” I said, turning onto the road leading to Regent Towers. “And maybe a thank-you dinner if this all works out. Just don’t ask questions I can’t answer, okay?”

She sighed. “Fine. But when this mysterious story lands you in hot water, I’ll be the one saying, ‘I told you so.’”

As I parked outside the glowing towers, I glanced at her. “You say that as if you’ve ever held back an ‘I told you so.’”

Her laugh carried us into the towering glass doors, where the hunt for the perfect dress began.

Lilian held up a shimmering gold gown, tilting her head as she inspected it. “This one screams powerful woman who knows what she wants. What do you think?”

I shook my head, biting my lip. “It also screams trying too hard.”

“Fine,” she sighed, slipping it back onto the rack. She grabbed a red dress next, the fabric soft and draping. “What about this one? Bold, sexy, a total knockout.”

I grimaced. “Too much. I don’t want to look like I’m auditioning for a reality show.”

Lilian smirked, raising a brow. “Okay, Miss Modesty. What exactly are you going for?”

“Elegant but not over-the-top. Eye-catching, but not desperate,” I said, trailing my fingers along the racks. “I need to look like I belong there, but also like I’m someone worth noticing.”

“Got it. You want irresistible mystery,” Lilian said with a grin. She flicked through hangers, then froze, pulling out a black dress. “This.”

I stared at it. The material shimmered subtly, clinging to curves I usually tried to hide. It had a high slit, a plunging neckline, and an undeniable edge. “It’s… a lot.”

“It’s perfect,” Lilian said, holding it up against me. “Trust me, you’ll turn every head in the room. Including his.”

I hesitated but took the dress. “If I end up looking ridiculous, I’m blaming you.”

“Oh, honey,” Lilian said with a wicked smile, “if this dress doesn’t work, it’s not the dress’s fault.”

Later, I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the straps. The black fabric hugged me in ways that made me blush, the slit climbing higher than I was used to. For someone else, this would be easy, but for me, it felt like stepping into a different life. And maybe that’s exactly what I needed.