Mia’s POV
Life had always been simple. Predictable, even. Just me and my mom in our small apartment, surrounded by the familiar scent of her lavender candles and the comforting hum of her sewing machine. She worked tirelessly to keep us afloat, her delicate fingers stitching together our modest existence.
Then he appeared.
Ray Valisteen.
The first time I saw him, he was sitting at our kitchen table, a place far too humble for someone who looked like he belonged on the cover of a luxury magazine. His suit was sharp enough to cut through steel, his smile easy, almost disarming. But it was his eyes that struck me—dark, calculating, and cold.
I was only fourteen, but I wasn’t stupid. Men like him didn’t show up out of nowhere. He wasn’t here for a simple family dinner.
“Call me Ray,” he said, his voice smooth like melted chocolate. He leaned back in the rickety chair, completely at ease, as if the peeling wallpaper and chipped plates didn’t bother him. “Your mother has told me so much about you, Mia.”
I stayed silent, my instincts screaming at me to be cautious. Mom, however, was glowing. Her cheeks flushed as she fussed over the roast chicken on the table, smiling in a way I hadn’t seen in years.
“Ray’s been such a blessing,” she said, setting the dish down with trembling hands. “He’s... helped us.”
Helped us? I frowned, staring at the man across from me. What kind of help could someone like him offer?
Over the next few months, I got my answer.
Ray wasn’t just rich—he was powerful. His influence stretched far beyond the luxurious black cars that began picking us up from our dingy neighborhood, far beyond the lavish dinners at restaurants where even the waiters looked at us like we didn’t belong. My mom’s sewing business transformed overnight. Suddenly, her designs were in high demand, and our bank account swelled with more money than I thought we’d ever see.
But there was always a catch.
“Stay close to me,” Ray would say whenever we stepped out of the house. His hand on my shoulder was firm, protective, but it felt like a leash. Men in suits began shadowing us everywhere we went. At first, I thought it was because of his wealth, but soon, I realized it was more than that. It was the danger that clung to him, invisible but ever-present.
I started to notice the way people looked at him—fear mixed with respect. Waiters rushed to serve him, businessmen stammered in his presence, and even police officers seemed to look the other way when he sped through traffic.
It was intoxicating and terrifying.
One night, as I sat in the backseat of his sleek black car, I couldn’t hold back anymore. “Why do people act like that around you?” I asked, my voice trembling despite my best effort to sound confident.
Ray glanced at me in the rearview mirror, his expression unreadable. “Because they know who I am.”
“And who are you?” I pressed, my fingers gripping the leather seat.
He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Someone who gets things done.”
That was the moment I realized my life would never be simple again.
---
When he married my mom a few weeks later, everything changed. I became "Mia Valisteen," the stepdaughter of a man whose name was whispered in hushed tones. We moved into a sprawling villa that overlooked the city, a place so grand it felt like stepping into another world.
At first, I tried to enjoy it—the fancy clothes, the private tutors, the endless parade of gifts. But the luxury came with strings attached. His world wasn’t just about wealth. It was about power. And enemies.
“Mia, don’t wander off,” Ray warned one afternoon as I explored the villa’s grounds. His voice carried an edge of urgency that made me stop in my tracks. “This isn’t the kind of life where you can afford to be careless.”
I wanted to ask him what he meant, but I was too afraid of the answer.
Deep down, I knew. This wasn’t just his world anymore. It was mine, too. A world of glitter and shadows, where nothing was ever as it seemed.
And I wasn’t sure I was ready for it.
As the Valisteen Princess, I had wealth, luxury, and influence. But with that came constant threats—Ray’s enemies, who seemed to be lurking around every corner. They never stopped coming after me, trying to use me as a pawn in their ruthless games.
But Victor—Ray’s consigliere—was my protector. He was unlike the others, calm, calculated, and always two steps ahead. I grew close to him over time. More than just a bodyguard, he became my mentor, guiding me through the treacherous world I had been thrust into.
His advice was always straightforward, his loyalty unquestionable. “Trust no one, Mia, not even the people closest to you,” he would say, his gravelly voice a steady anchor amidst the chaos.
And I listened.
Victor was my lifeline, and in a world where trust was a luxury I couldn’t afford, he was the only one I could rely on.
Not that I didn’t know how to defend myself or fight back—I did. Ray made sure of that. Combat training, escape drills, even lessons in negotiation; he insisted I be prepared for every situation. But I still found myself relying on Victor for almost everything.
Maybe it was his quiet confidence, the way he seemed unshaken even in the face of chaos. Or maybe it was the way he treated me like more than just the "Valisteen Princess." To him, I was still Mia, the girl who used to smell like lavender and fall asleep to the hum of her mom’s sewing machine.
In this world of glitter and shadows, Victor wasn’t just my protector. He
was my reminder of who I used to be—and maybe who I could still become.
Dylan’s POVThere was a time when my name carried weight—Dylan Griffin, son of the man who once stood as Ray Valisteen’s equal. Back then, power was our inheritance, influence our birthright. My father, Alexander Griffin, wasn’t just feared; he was respected. In every darkened corner of the city, his name echoed with reverence.I wanted to be just like him.As a kid, I followed him everywhere. Business meetings, late-night deals, even the dangerous ones he told me to stay away from. “Keep your eyes open and your mouth shut,” he’d say, his voice steady and commanding, like the crack of thunder.And I listened.I learned how to read people, how to spot lies beneath the surface of a polite smile. I saw how my father and Ray Valisteen ruled the city together, an unstoppable force that made even the most ambitious rivals think twice before crossing them.But power is a fragile thing. And trust? Even more so.The night everything fell apart is seared into my memory.I was seventeen, old eno
Mia's POVThe party was loud, extravagant, and suffocating—just as I’d expected. Purple and silver decorations sparkled under the soft glow of the chandelier, and every corner of the room was filled with laughter, clinking glasses, and chatter about alliances and power plays. My eighteenth birthday was supposed to be a celebration, but I felt like a showpiece, trapped in a world I didn’t ask to be a part of.It was easier to fake a smile than explain how much I wanted to leave despite it being my eighteenth birthday party. Jess was rambling about some minor drama, but I could barely focus on her words. The weight of the crowd pressed down on me, and I needed air.“Excuse me,” I muttered, cutting Jess off mid-sentence. Without waiting for her reply, I slipped through the sea of people, heading for the balcony.The night air hit me like a cool balm. I leaned against the railing, staring out at the city lights that glittered like stars in the distance. For a moment, it felt like I could
Mia's POV.I let out another groan, my head pounding like a war drum. My arms felt like lead, and my throat was dry enough to crack. I shifted on the cold, hard floor, realizing I couldn't move my wrists—zip-ties. The bite of the plastic around my skin made me grit my teeth as memories of the night slammed into me.Dylan Griffin.The son of the man Ray killed. The charming bastard had drugged my drink and dragged me into this mess."Shit," I muttered under my breath, forcing myself to sit up. The room was barely lit, the flickering bulb above casting more shadows than light. My eyes darted around, taking in the stark, empty space—four walls, no windows, and a single steel door.“How do I get out of here?” I whispered to myself, flexing my wrists against the restraints. The pain grounded me, and I welcomed it. I needed to focus, not panic.Footsteps echoed outside, sharp and deliberate. The heavy door creaked open, and Dylan stepped in.“Awake already?” he mused, his lips curling into
Mia's POV. Italy smelled like freedom and fresh espresso. It was a stark contrast to the suffocating opulence of my past life. Here, I wasn’t the Valisteen Princess; I was just Mia. No bodyguards trailing my every move, no constant threats looming over my head. Or at least, that’s what I wanted to believe.But danger had a way of finding me. That bitch.It's been three weeks since I escaped the chaos Dylan Griffin left behind with the help of Victor, who I told to go back to Ray. I kept my head down, moving from town to town, never staying anywhere long enough to be noticed. The quiet anonymity was comforting at first, but I couldn’t ignore the itch in the back of my mind—the urge to reclaim what had been stolen from me.I had just stepped out of a cafe in Florence when the first shot rang out. Instinct kicked in before I even registered what was happening. I dove behind a parked Vespa, my heart pounding as bullets sprayed across the cobblestone street. Tourists screamed and scattere
Mia's POV. “Wow, I can't believe we built this in just four years," Mimi said, walking towards the balcony of my office. The doors were made of glass, bulletproof glass. It's been four years since I escaped from Dylan Griffith. Mimi, and built my own empire with the help of Mimi and Victor. A sigh escaped my lips. This is the sixth time she has been repeating the same words; now I can recite it without missing a word. “Mimi, what do you want?" I asked, pushing my laptop to the side. I lean forward, place both my elbows on my table, my hands facing down as I rest my head on them, looking up at her like an injured puppy. Well, I wasn't physically injured, but mentally, I was with her constant blabbing that never seemed to end as soon as she walked in thirty minutes ago. “What do you want?" I ask again. She turned to look at me with a surprised look that obviously was fake, one arm crossed on her chest and the other pointing to herself. “Me?" “No, I was talking to the handsome ghost
Mia's POVI smirked faintly. “Something like that. Someone has to keep a clear head around here.”He tilted his glass toward me. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you actually dancing. A rare sight.”“Don’t get used to it,” I said, but there was no bite to my words.Victor chuckled lightly, his gaze scanning the room. His sharp eyes lingered on each corner as if he were silently calculating exit routes and assessing threats even in the middle of a celebration.“You know,” he said after a pause, “it’s moments like this that remind me why we do what we do. These people—your people—look at you like you’re invincible. Like you’ve given them something no one else could.”I stared into my glass, swirling the amber liquid. “And what’s that?”“Hope,” he said simply.I didn’t reply, the weight of his words settling heavily on me. Hope. It wasn’t something I’d set out to give anyone, but somehow, it had become part of what I represented.The moment was interrupted by Mimi, who came bounding over wit
Dylan's POV. The echo of my footsteps was the only sound in the dimly lit corridor as I led the newcomer deeper into the clan's dungeon. The air was damp and thick with the metallic scent of blood, mixed with that faint hum of the fear that lingered like a permanent resident. The walls, lined with chains and archaic iron tools, bore the weight of history only whispered about. “This…" I said, my voice low and calculated, " is where we remind people of the consequences of betrayal.” my words were calm but the undertone carried the sharp edge of a knife. The man nodded rapidly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. His bravado from earlier had melted away the moment we descended those stairs. The dungeon had that effect—it stripped away masks, leaving people with nothing but their raw, trembling truths.Liam, my ever-annoying second-in-command, leaned against the rusted iron bars of one of the cells, a cigarette lazily hanging from his lips. “Really laying it on thick today, aren’
Dylan's POV. The private jet landed smoothly on the tarmac in Florence, Italy, the hum of its engines fading into the quiet night. This mission was critical—an opportunity to secure a deal that would expand our influence into Europe. A dangerous cartel had been encroaching on our territory, and tonight’s meeting was to remind them why crossing me was a mistake.Usually, I do this alone and not risk the lives of my clan members so recklessly, but they insisted, and I need them to be there in case shit goes sideways.“Ah, Italy,” Liam said, stepping out onto the runway with a dramatic stretch. “The land of wine, romance, and fucking crime. Think we’ll have time for sightseeing?”“Focus, you dickhead,” I muttered, scanning the surroundings. “This isn’t a vacation. After the mission, you can stick whatever is under your pants into whatever pussy you want.” “Harsh," he cries mockingly. “ But just thinking about it is making me a little excited." “Keep it in your pants.” I muttered not wa
Chapter 49. Unspoken emotions.I don’t know how long I wandered, only that by the time I stumbled upon the massive estate, my legs ached, and exhaustion had settled deep into my bones. The lights from the building glowed against the dark night, and the distant hum of music and laughter told me one thing—this wasn’t Dylan’s personal estate.I should’ve turned around right then and there.Instead, I stood at the edge of the tree line, watching. The place was alive with energy—people moving in and out, drinks in hand, voices carrying over the night air. It didn’t take long to realize what this was.A party.At midnight.Of course, it's Dylan's clan, he is the one to plan the party. I guess he was happy that I felt, he might not even be looking for me. What am I thinking? Why would he look for me? What for?I exhaled, tugging my cloak tighter around me. Dylan’s clan must’ve been celebrating something, though I had no idea what. Whatever it was, it made for a perfect distraction.And an o
Chapter 48. Lost.Dylan’s expression didn’t change, but I caught the slight flicker in his eyes. He knew this was coming—probably had from the moment I started asking questions.He turned back toward the window, his voice even. “Then go.”I clenched my jaw. That was it? No argument, no demand, no cryptic warning? Just… go?I should’ve been relieved. Instead, something inside me twisted in frustration.“That’s all you have to say?” I asked, folding my arms.Dylan didn’t answer right away. His fingers curled against the window frame, his posture stiff. “You don’t belong here, Mia. You never did.”The words stung more than I wanted to admit. I scoffed, shaking my head. “Right. Because everyone around you is just temporary, right? What about the whole I have to figure out who is after you before you can leave. Where'd Dylan go? One mention about your childhood and you're all locked up and distant.” Still, he didn’t turn to face me.I hated this. The distance, the coldness.“Fine,” I mutt
Chapter 47. Distance. Dylan didn't respond and kept reading. I rolled my eyes, stepping further in. “Had to get through Liam’s comedy routine first.”Dylan sighed, closing the book with a soft thud. “Of course, you did.”I crossed my arms, leaning against the nearest shelf. “So? What’s the big talk about?”He studied me for a moment before standing, his movements slow and deliberate. “Sit.”I arched a brow. “I’m good, thanks.”His eyes darkened slightly. “Mia.”Something about the way he said my name sent a shiver down my spine. Reluctantly, I dropped into one of the chairs across from him, my irritation barely masked.“You’ve been asking questions,” he said.I scoffed. “Yeah, that’s kind of what people do when they’re curious.”His jaw ticked, but he didn’t rise to the bait. “Sarah’s stories—about my past—they aren’t meant for entertainment.”I frowned. Nor is mine, but yet here we are” I said statistically. “I wasn’t looking for entertainment. I just wanted to know more about the
Chapter 46. Brooding MenaceI sighed, finally glancing up at him. He was standing a few feet away, arms crossed, watching me with that unreadable expression.“You weren’t in your room,” he continued. “Care to explain why?”I raised a brow. “Didn’t realize I needed permission to step outside.”He tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing. “You do when people are trying to kill you.”I rolled my eyes. “Relax, I didn’t leave the estate. I just wanted to see the garden. Where I met Sarah. She's nicer and sweeter than you, I don't really understand why she's here with someone like you.”Dylan didn't respond and turned to face Sarah who was leaning on the table with her hands, a smile on her lips and eyes darting for Dylan to me."You let her call you 'Sarah?' I thought Liam and I were the only ones who could call you that?" Dylan asked his voice cold and flat but had a hit of childishness in it.”Sarah chuckled, unfazed by Dylan’s cold tone. “She’s got a sharp tongue. Reminds me of someone
Chapter 45. Little one. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, warming the room despite the cool air that lingered. I blinked against the brightness, momentarily disoriented. The bed was ridiculously comfortable—too comfortable. It had been a long time since I’d slept without interruption.Stretching, I glanced at the clock on the nightstand. Late morning. I groaned, pushing myself up. I never slept in this late. The exhaustion from yesterday’s attack must have caught up with me.I ran a hand through my hair and stood, pacing toward the window. My gaze flicked to the landscape beyond the estate, where I caught sight of the garden I had noticed last night. It was tucked behind the main building, an expanse of green enclosed by high stone walls, with neatly arranged plants and a few benches scattered throughout. The place looked untouched, like something out of a different world compared to the fortress-like atmosphere of the estate.I wanted to see it.After freshening up and sli
Chapter 44. Lock up.I cleaned up quickly, wiping away the remnants of the fight before stepping back into the main room.Dylan was standing near the glass wall, his back to me, staring out at the night. He looked deep in thought, his posture tense despite the calm setting.“Feel better?” he asked without turning around.I hesitated. “A little.”He nodded once, then finally turned to face me.“We need to talk.”I swallowed hard. “About what?”His gaze darkened. “About why they were after you.”I scoffed, “What makes you so sure they weren't after you?" I asked, raising my head up and crossing my arms. Nodding his head, he opened his mouth to speak, "Sure, I do have a lot of enemies," Dylan admitted, his voice calm but firm. "But they knew you’d be here. They were waiting for you.”A chill ran down my spine, but I refused to let it show. “That doesn’t mean anything. Maybe they saw an opportunity and took it. And isn't this your woods?” I said, using both my hands to make a circle in t
Chapter 43. Unexpected outcome.My breath hitched.“Me?” I repeated, barely above a whisper. “Why?”Dylan didn’t slow down. If anything, his grip on my hand tightened, pulling me further into the thick shadows of the trees. His gaze flickered past me, scanning the darkness, his jaw locked tight.“I don’t know yet,” he admitted. “But they knew you’d be here.”A chill ran down my spine.“They?” I pressed. “Who the hell is ‘they’?”Dylan exhaled sharply, his pace quickening. “Not here,” he muttered. “We need to—”A twig snapped.I froze.Dylan did too, his body tensing, muscles coiled like a predator ready to strike. The sound had come from behind us, too close, too deliberate.We weren’t alone.Slowly, I reached for my knife, my fingers curling around the hilt. Dylan’s eyes met mine for a brief second—just enough time for me to see it.The shift.The cold, calculated edge slipping into place.He turned, stepping slightly in front of me, shielding me, his entire body wound tight like a l
Chapter 42. Danger. I pulled the nozzle from the tank, letting the final drops of gas drip before securing the cap. The attendant’s words lingered in my mind, uncomfortably accurate. But I wasn’t about to spill my story to a stranger in the middle of nowhere.“Maybe I am,” I said, offering him a tight smile. “Maybe I just like long drives.”He chuckled, not pressing further. “Well, good luck, kid. Hope you find what you’re looking for.”I gave him a nod before climbing back into the car. As I pulled onto the road, his words echoed in my head.Hope you find what you’re looking for.If only I knew what that was.The next stop on my search was the place Dylan’s clan had been last time—where Mimi and I had visited before. It was the only lead I had, the only real connection to his past that I could follow.But when I got there, my stomach dropped.The place was abandoned.Not just empty, but long abandoned. The buildings, once full of life and activity, were now overtaken by nature. Weed
Chapter 41. Little OneThree months. Ninety-two days. Over two thousand hours. That’s how long it had been since Dylan left. Since he walked out of my life without so much as a backward glance, leaving me with more questions than answers.And now, I was losing my mind.The mornings were the worst. I’d wake up expecting to hear his low voice rumbling through the apartment, teasing me with that infuriating smirk of his. But the silence that greeted me was deafening. I hated how my first thought every day was of him—wondering where he was, if he was alive, if he even remembered I existed.I sat on the couch, staring blankly at the TV that played some forgettable movie. My legs were curled beneath me, my fingers gripping a mug of coffee that had long gone cold.“Idiot,” I muttered to myself, taking a sip anyway.Dylan’s face filled my mind again, unbidden. His caramel skin catching the faintest hint of light, the sharp line of his jaw, the intensity in his eyes that made you feel like you