Chapter 2

Watching Yvonne walk off, Zayn took a step after her, then stopped himself. No way he was gonna chase her.

Snow whipped around him, piling up like it wanted to bury him right there.

‘Babe, don’t be sad. No matter where I go, you’re the only one I’ll ever love…’

‘Just wait for me, okay? Two years, that’s all. When I come back, let’s start a family.’

Those sweet promises now felt like knives twisting in his chest.

After a long, cold silence, Zayn chucked the bouquet into a nearby trash can.

“So, I was an idiot,” he muttered.

If she’d moved on that quick, there was nothing left to fight for. A girl like that? Not worth it.

***

In the hospital room, Zayn sat beside his grandma, his eyes red as he tried to get her to eat. His voice cracked. "Grandma, I made this cream soup myself. Just one more bite, okay?"

Dr. Stone had warned him her condition was bad—whether she'd make it through the night was uncertain.

“Zayn,” she murmured, staring out at the snowfall. “When’s Yvonne coming to see me? You two… nothing’s wrong, right?”

He'd lied, saying Yvonne was just busy and would be there soon.

“No, no, Grandma, don’t worry. She’ll be here soon,” he said, forcing a smile as he held her frail hand, even though it tore him up inside.

No matter what, he decided he'd go back and beg Yvonne to visit one last time.

Just then, someone appeared at the doorway. For a split second, he thought it was Yvonne—but it was only her mom, Sharon.

The second he saw Sharon, Zayn knew she was there to talk about his shares in BeechCorp. He'd put his home on the line to save the company, earning himself a twenty percent stake. But now that he and Yvonne were done, the Beech family was ready to claw it back.

He stood up fast, stepping between Sharon and his grandma. "Sharon, if you've got something to say, let's talk outside," he said, keeping his voice low—he didn’t want his grandma hearing anything that might upset her. In her mind, Yvonne was already the perfect granddaughter-in-law.

But Sharon brushed him off, settling into a chair by the bed like she owned the place. She crossed her legs, pulling a check and a transfer form from her Prada bag. "Zayn, I'm here for three things:

"One, you and Yvonne are divorcing. You're not good enough for her.

"Two, stop reaching out to her. She's got a new boyfriend, and it's not right for you to get in the way.

"Three, here's your two hundred grand. Just sign the transfer form."

Zayn's fists clenched, but he managed to keep his cool. "Let's talk about this outside."

Sharon didn't even flinch, glancing at his grandma. "Why? Right here's fine. Might as well kill the old lady's dream of Yvonne as her granddaughter-in-law."

His grandma's face went pale, her breathing suddenly shallow. "Sharon... why would you want them to divorce? Please... Zayn loves her. He'd take care of her for life. Don't leave him—once I'm gone, he'll have no one..."

Sharon sneered. "And who are you to decide Yvonne's happiness? Your precious grandson's a nobody compared to Eric. And you honestly expect my Yvonne to stay tied to him forever? You’re crueler than I thought.“

Her words hit his grandma hard; her breath caught, and she suddenly coughed up blood.

“Oh, come on. You’re not seriously trying to fake a dramatic collapse, are you?” Sharon sneered. “Our family’s got top lawyers, so don’t think you can guilt-trip me that easily.” And she just kept going.

"Get out!" Zayn's patience snapped, his voice icy as he pointed to the door, eyes blazing.

It was the first time Sharon had ever seen him so intense. She quickly stuffed the check back into her bag. “What’s with the attitude? Fine, I’m leaving. But you and Yvonne are divorcing, whether you like it or not,” she muttered, hurrying out.

The moment she was gone, Zayn and the doctor rushed his grandma to the ER, but she was already fading, her life barely holding on.

In her last moments, she clutched his hand tight. "Zayn... find a girl who loves you... marry her... give me a great-grandchild... I just wish I could see it..."

She took a weak breath, summoning her final strength. "And... find Bubbles. Take her to your mom's grave... pay your respects..."

With that, she was gone.

The only person who’d ever loved him without question was gone.

That night, Zayn stayed by her side in the hospital morgue as snow piled up outside. By morning, the ground was covered in white, as thick as the pile of cigarette butts scattered beside him.

The next day, he stood in silence as her body was cremated. The woman who’d loved him like no one else was now reduced to a small box of ashes, which he took to her burial site.

The funeral was small—she'd had hardly any relatives, even fewer friends—and within two days, it was over. Yvonne never showed.

***

On the fourth day after the funeral, Zayn was going through his grandma's things when he remembered her mention of an envelope. She'd told him, just before she passed, about a letter left after the fire—one that might hold clues to what happened to his sister, Bubbles. She'd kept it hidden, afraid he'd do something reckless. But now, she wanted him to have it.

Finally, tucked under her mattress, he found an old, yellowed envelope. Inside was a letter and a photograph.

As he read the letter, a chill ran through him.

[Bubbles's disappearance is connected to a dangerous group known as the Holy Sanctuary. To find her, you'll need a map hidden within twelve artifacts, each inscribed with specific runes.]

The Holy Sanctuary?

He picked up the photo from the envelope, his breath catching. The image showed an intricately carved symbol, ancient and eerie, almost like it belonged to some secret order.

But it wasn't the symbol itself that threw him—it was the memory it triggered. He'd seen it before. The night of the fire when Bubbles went missing, he'd found a black cross with that same rune. It was lost during an overseas mission.

Taking a steady breath, Zayn slipped the envelope back into his pocket, a new resolve hardening inside him. He would find Bubbles, no matter what it took.

Just then, his phone buzzed. An unknown number.

"Who is this?" he answered.

A deep, familiar voice replied, "I'm your father, Edward Quandt."

Zayn froze, then let out a bitter laugh. “Oh, so now I have a father? That’s funny—I thought I just dropped out of thin air. Doesn’t saying that word make you feel any shame?”

This was the same so-called father who’d ditched him at four, abandoning Zayn, his mom, and Bubbles to run back to the wealthy Quandt family in Longoria.

It sounded like some twisted soap opera, but it was his life. His mom had died in the same fire that night Bubbles went missing, leaving him alone with just his grandma.

In his world, the word “father” was pretty much a joke—just a bitter, ironic label.

"Zayn," Edward's voice was steady. "It's time for you to come back to the Quandt family in Longoria. I'm sending someone to Cloudport this afternoon to bring you back."

Zayn scoffed. "Are you out of your mind? When did I ever say I wanted anything to do with your family? I'm not like you. I don't just bail on my family when things get tough. I'm not a heartless coward like you."