A soft buzzing sound gently pulled me from a deep sleep.

I couldn't recall when sleep had overtaken me; the last thing I remembered from my dreams was resting in Sameer's arms, his soothing voice narrating tales of stars as if they were lullabies.

Glancing at my new phone, I noticed a missed call from Maria, and the clock read nearly 10 p.m.

With an empty stomach growling its dissatisfaction, I decided to wake up and return her call.

"Kay, if you're awake, would you mind joining us for dinner? There's someone I'd like you to meet," Maria's voice, hushed and intimate, came through the phone.

After ending the call, I prepared for an evening that promised new connections and revelations.

When I opened my door, I was greeted by two butlers already waiting to escort me to the dining hall. I followed their lead and soon arrived at a grand place on the ground floor where they graciously opened a set of doors, revealing the most epic dining hall I had ever seen. It struck me that this must be the fourth dining space I had encountered within the house so far. The opulence of the dining hall was nothing short of remarkable.

Before me lay a magnificent oval-shaped dining table, easily accommodating around 20 people for a lavish feast. However, at that moment, I noticed only three individuals seated at the far end of the table, engaged in lively conversation and sharing hearty laughter.

The crystal chandelier overhead twinkled in harmony with their banter, while a wooden fireplace behind them crackled softly, casting a warm and inviting ambiance.

Seated at the table were Maria and Royce, and another man who occupied a wheelchair. Despite his age, he appeared to be in his early 80s.

Before any formal introductions could take place, I recognized the man in the wheelchair as none other than Ralf Volkner, Rhys's grandfather. He sat there with a beaming smile, engaged in lively conversation with Maria. Royce, with a silent smile of his own, attentively listened to their exchange.

As I approached the trio, I noticed that Ralf's plates were now empty. When his eyes, clouded with age yet sparkling with warmth, fell upon me, his smile stretched even wider.

"Is this going to be my new favorite granddaughter?" His jovial laughter followed, and a rush of warmth coursed through my entire being, filling a void that had persisted for the past two decades. It was a realization that hit me deeply.

Little Kaya burst into tears; I echoed her emotions.

The intense wave of emotion unleashed by Ralf's warmth and kindness was almost overwhelming. I had missed my own grandparents deeply, and their memories rushed back, reminding me of the pain of their powerlessness in the face of my abusive father. Tears streamed down my cheeks uncontrollably. My tears caught Maria's attention, and she swiftly rose from her chair to embrace me tightly. Due to our height difference, she had to bend down a bit to rest my head on her shoulder.

"Hey... Kay! Why are you crying?" she comforted me, patting my back gently. I was too choked up to respond, and my body convulsed with each sob. Ralf and Royce were visibly affected by my distress.

"Did I say something wrong?" Ralf asked, his tone weary. Maria released me from her embrace and turned to face him.

"I-I just remembered how much I miss my own grandparents," I managed to choke out. My words weighed heavily on the atmosphere, leaving Royce and Ralf with pensive expressions.

"Aww, baby, come here. Hug your grandpa. Come," Ralf beckoned, extending his arms toward me. Maria gently pushed me toward him, and I walked over, kneeling down to embrace him.

"Ah... sweet child. I like her already. How did Rhys manage to get her?" Ralf rambled on as he patted my head. His scent, a blend of citrus and juniper berries, was comforting. However, the mention of Rhys's name sent a chilling wave of anger through my body.

"He killed six men for her," Maria stated casually, as if taking lives were a routine occurrence in their world. I glanced at the expressions on both Royce's and Ralf's faces and saw a mixture of horror and disbelief.

A series of footsteps, reminiscent of a stalking feline, echoed behind me. I didn't need to turn around to know who it was.

"Ask me why," Rhys responded, his deep voice resonating through the hall. Ralf's face contorted with anger, though he continued to hold my hand gently. Royce sighed in frustration as if he were exasperated with his son.

"Our family... has never spilled innocent blood, and you've gone on a killing spree!" Ralf hissed at his grandson in his elderly tone.

The fire in the fireplace cast an amber shadow on Rhys's striking face, making him look like a demon cloaked in black from the underworld. He smiled, revealing all his teeth.

"What made you think I would let a scratch be put on her body?" he hissed back at Ralf, his tone dripping with menace. Maria, standing at a distance, almost rolled her eyes at him.

"Whom did you kill?" Ralf hissed again, his patience wearing thin.

"She got kidnapped, twice. I killed anyone who tried to hurt her, I will kill anyone who thinks of hurting her." Rhys replied casually, reaching for a wine cart. He poured a glass of whiskey and added a large crystal ice cube before taking a sip.

"So, you have no idea whom you killed? To whom do these men belong?" Ralf asked sternly.

Rhys appeared momentarily confused, leaning on a table in the distance with brass flower vases. He shook his head and shot his grandfather a slightly goofy but proud smile.

Ralf pressed a button on his wheelchair, propelling himself toward Rhys. I quickly stood up, unsure of what might happen next.

"Good boy," Ralf complimented Rhys. Rhys, finishing his whiskey with the proudest smile I had ever seen on his face, hugged his grandfather. Royce and Maria exchanged eye rolls and sighed in unison as if sharing a silent "Oh, God!"

Ralf and Rhys glanced at them with villainous grins, looking like 2 Villains celebrating a successful mission.

"...Next time, torture them first. Then kill them... slowly," Ralf suggested with a wicked grin.

"I will... thanks for the advice, Pop!" Rhys replied cheekily.

Ralf turned his attention to me and, from a distance, offered some words of wisdom, "You are too soft, too kind. Keep your softness and kindness confined to yourself."

Visually and emotionally perplexed by the strange conversation I had just witnessed, I watched as Ralf made his way to leave the dining area, and the butlers opened the doors for his departure.

"And always remember... torture first, then kill - slowly. Kaya, I am talking to you..." he kept yelling at me as he left the room.

I turned to Maria, who was silently smiling from ear to ear.

"Let's eat, Maria. What did you cook?" Royce declared as he took his seat at the table. Maria followed her husband.

"I am taking Kay out for dinner outside," Rhys announced, protesting to his father. I gave Rhys a smug look, fully embracing my newfound defiance, and then I sat beside Maria.

"Oh, I made tagliatelle with meatballs! All beef for Kay. Also, I made your favorite, Gnudi with burnt butter sauce. Nina made some blueberry Crostata!" Maria explained.

"I love blueberries!" I enthusiastically exclaimed.

"Oh, really?" Maria looked at her son, who was clearly upset by his disobedience.

"Guess you're not going outside now, Sameer," Maria remarked, resting her chin on her palms.

Rhys shot me an angry look, while I poured some red tomato sauce onto Royce's plate gleefuly.

----------------------------------------------------

I was consumed by a Harry Potter movie marathon post-dinner, an unexpected screech startled me. Frantically searching for the source of the noise, I quickly realized it came from a bird perched on the wrought iron railing of the balcony. I cautiously stepped out to identify the bird.

To my astonishment, it was Minerva, our sweet owl! She hooted at me from a distance.

How did I know it was Minerva? Well, she had her usual tag on her hind limb, and she carried something in her beak. I reached out and gently took the thin piece of paper from her beak.

"Why did you block me from your phone? Come down, I am waiting for you in the garden."

Oh God! Oh, dear Lord!

Below, in the lush garden, stood Rhys Volkner. His face radiated under the soft garden lights, a playful glint in his eyes even from a distance. Arms on his waist, he held a red rose in his mouth, attempting to be a Romeo to my Juliet.

What did he think this would achieve? Melt the ice or heal the wounds he caused?

Casually tearing the paper into shreds, I extended my arm to Minerva, who hopped onto it like my tame owl. Then, I showed him my middle finger until he removed the flower.

I let him be there dumbfounded, and I returned to my room with Minerva.

----------------------------------------------------

I had no idea how long I had slept when, once again, a call startled me awake.

Maria's voice flowed from the other end of my phone, and I noticed it was already 10 am. I had spent the entire night playing with Minerva while watching Harry Potter movies. The white owl reminded me of Floof, but Minerva's name was surprisingly similar to Professor McGonagall.

Then it struck me that the idea of having owls as pets might have come from Rhys watching Harry Potter. Unwillingly, this realization brought a smile to my face.

Watching Minerva flap her wings on a nearby reading table made me chuckle.

"Hello... are you listening?" Maria asked.

I managed to regain my composure.

"Yes, sorry, I just woke up," I admitted, followed by a big yawn.

"Come to my office exactly at 11; we will have lunch together," Maria commanded without any explanation before abruptly ending the call.

I was left feeling bewildered, wondering why Maria Volkner wanted me to meet her in her office.

Frantically waking myself up, I got dressed and rushed down to the breakfast hall. There, I saw Nina feeding Leo as a mother would feed her son.

"Good morning, Princess. Woke up early from your beauty sleep!" Nina playfully teased me.

I laughed in response, nearly choking on my croissant at her compliment.

"Why are you in such a hurry?" Nina asked, her tone filled with concern.

"Maria summoned me to her office at 11 a.m. Aren't they on a break?" I inquired.

"Yeah, we're on a break from work for the next six days. But Aunt Maria needs to catch up on some homework," Marco replied from behind and took a seat beside me.

"Why did Maria call you?" Nina seemed puzzled. Leo was making a fuss like a child, clamoring for something sweet. Nina was feeding him eggs. Marco reached out to Leo and said to Nina, "Give it to me, I'll feed him. You eat your food."

Nina conceded, looking like a tired mother, and started to eat her own muesli bowl. Marco began feeding Leo as if the child were his own.

This heartwarming scene filled me with happiness, especially seeing the genuine love between Marco and Leo, which bewildered Little Kaya.

Nina noticed my gaze and smiled before saying, "Leo loves Marco more than he loves me."

I returned her smile in reply.

"Everyone loves me, Nina," Marco cheekily replied.

He was absolutely right. I couldn't imagine anyone on earth disliking Marco. At that moment, I wholeheartedly wished that Marco would have been my real-life older brother, perhaps protecting me from childhood hurts.

I lost track of time observing them from my seat at the breakfast table. Marco had become a father figure to Leo, feeding him eggs and caring for him as if he were a 2-year-old child. Even Leo seemed to forget he was 20 years old. Two butlers approached, informing me that the car was waiting for me outside, as it was almost 10:45 a.m.

I noticed Nina giving me the same look she had on the day we first met at her shop, the day I mentioned that nobody had ever given me a gift.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

That night, I completely underestimated the sheer grandeur of Volkner HQ in Paris. Today, I stood like a mere speck before the colossal obsidian behemoth, different from any official premises I'd ever visited.

As I climbed the steps, John, accompanied by a couple of unknown faces, approached me. Despite the unfamiliar company, it was John who guided me to the elevator, his face wearing a guilty expression. As the elevator doors closed and we began our ascent, John looked at me and spilled the beans.

"I've been dying to tell you, Kaya."

I looked at him, sensing his deep remorse.

"I'm so sorry for all this mess; I apologize for Rhys's behavior. In my 15 years of knowing Rhys so well, I've never seen him act so violently. It's my fault; I should have taught him how to manage his anger," John added.

Excuse me, what?

"I'm sorry, what? How long?" I asked as the elevator reached the 20th floor.

"I've trained Rhys, taught him Krav Maga and Brazilian Jujitsu. I should have taught him how to control his emotions," he admitted with sorrow.

I gasped at this revelation. So, Ju, our Guiseppe, was the one who trained him to be such a skilled shooter. That's why Rhys made his two trusted mentors my bodyguards.

The lift opened, and we stepped into a grand corridor.

"Ju taught him how to shoot? That's why Ju, that day at the carnival, was instructing me on how to tense my muscles before I positioned myself to shoot a rifle?" I asked with astonishment. John admitted guiltily.

He escorted me in front of a big door with a simple brass nameplate beside it, which read-

Lt Commander (Retd) Maria Alvares Volkner,

Chief Executive Officer

Volkner Corporation. 

Ah, I see, so it's Volkner Corporation, not Enterprise or Group. Hmm...

John swung the door open, revealing an opulent waiting room. Plush, cushiony sofas graced the space, bathed in the soft glow of ambient lighting. The interior design was a masterful blend of modern minimalism, accented tastefully with Parisian artwork that adorned the walls. John ushered me to one of the sofas and departed briefly.

After a mere five minutes, he reappeared, his voice tinged with evident worry.

"Maria is calling. Let's go," he demanded. I followed him.

As I set foot inside, I was awestruck by the panoramic view that greeted me. The Eiffel Tower, from this height and distance, appeared as nothing more than a diminutive, one-foot-tall ornament. Maria's desk spanned at least two meters in width, strewn with an assortment of papers, two sleek laptops, and enigmatic gadgets whose purpose eluded my understanding. In one corner, a grand arrangement of pristine white sofas beckoned, while an imposing six-seater conference table, adorned with a generously sized television screen, stood proudly opposite Maria's desk. Her desk was strategically positioned before a colossal glass window that showcased the sprawling vista of Paris.

"You're late, Kaya," Maria declared with unwavering authority. Glancing at my wristwatch, I noted that it was 11:10 a.m.

"My apologies," I murmured.

"Consider this your final opportunity for such tardiness," Maria icily retorted from her seat, her maternal warmth replaced by her lethal demeanor.

As I stood before her, it dawned upon me that I was facing Maria Volkner herself—the indomitable Volkner Hawk—the very woman I had observed my very last day in Italy, standing regally on the balcony of Hotel Caelus overlooking Lake Como.

I gulped anxiously, my throat tight with apprehension.

"You may leave, John," she commanded once more. John offered a slight bow and whispered to me, "Good luck."

Why was he wishing me good luck?

What the fuck? 

As John exited the office, I noticed a gradual transformation in Maria's demeanor. Her lethal aura seemed to give way to a sense of concern.

"Come, have a seat. Did you eat anything?" she inquired, her sudden change of tone taking me aback. She pressed an intercom button, summoning an attendant.

"Send two mango juices here, and some Croque Madames, I'm hungry. Use turkey ham on the sandwiches, do not include pork," Maria ordered the attendant in a matter-of-fact manner.

Once the lady hurried off to fulfill the order, Maria rose from her plush, revolving chair and approached me. I hesitated, perching uneasily in one of the guest chairs as she settled into another beside me. The tension in the room was palpable.

"Tell me, Kay, what do you really want to do for me?" she inquired, leaving me bewildered.

Then it clicked. She was referring to what I had told her yesterday.

"Oh... Anything," I replied, my voice trembling.

"Anything?" she reiterated.

I gulped, unsure of what she had in mind.

"Anything... that I can do, within my capacity," I admitted, beads of sweat forming on my brow.

"Alright," she said, averting her gaze momentarily. Then she stood up, fussing with her laptop and shuffling some papers before selecting one. Placing the laptop and the paper in front of me, she continued, "I'll take a 20-minute break. Do you see these folders?" She pointed to her laptop, which displayed folders on a dark background, looking unlike any laptop I was accustomed to.

"Yes, I see the folders," I replied. She handed me a sheet of paper with ten lines of gibberish words and numbers scrawled across it.

"These are ten serial numbers. Search for these numbers within these folders and write down any information you find about them," she instructed.

Bruv, what?? 

I was completely baffled by the situation.

"Do it for me," she insisted, handing me the paper. I took it, diving into various folders on the unfamiliar device.

"Meanwhile, I'll fix myself some dry martini. Want one?" she asked, but I declined, feeling the weight of anxiety. Maria strolled away, towards a nearby mini-fridge and a wine cart. She grabbed a glass from the fridge and started mixing her Martini.

I clicked on the first folder, finding a search bar at the top. I entered the first serial number, and two intriguing pieces of information popped up -

Contract- US Army

Year- 2002

Type- Penetrator

Category- ICBM

Operational status- Used

I typed the second number-

Invalid Number

I typed the third one,

Contract- Israel Government

Year- 2005

Type- Submunition

Category- MRBM

Operational status- Used 

Suddenly, it hit me like a freight train. All these numbers were related to Volkner warheads that had been used in an attack on the Egyptian borders.

I glanced over at Maria, who was casually sipping her Martini, her eyes fixed on me with a smug grin. I quickly averted my gaze and refocused on the task at hand.

I proceeded to type in the fourth serial number.

"Contract - yet to be confirmed." 

Year- 2021

Type- SSD8

Category- ICBM

Operational status- yet to be shipped from Kazakhstan Warehouse 

The words on the screen sent a shiver down my spine.

I typed in all the numbers, retrieved their information, and diligently wrote down the details along with the respective serial numbers. However, I soon realized that some of the numbers led to invalid or incomplete information. After 16 minutes of intense work, I completed my task. Throughout this time, Maria stood there silently, observing and judging my every move. A lady brought in a tray of sandwiches and juices the moment I finished my work.

"I'm done," I declared, my voice trembling, my hands still shaking from the realization that I had just searched for information on ballistic warheads in Volkner's highly classified database.

Maria approached me gracefully, moving like a cat stalking its prey.

"So, what's your verdict?" she asked, her voice laced with amusement.

"I...I'm sorry?" I stammered.

Maria smirked. "You know very well what those numbers are linked to."

I could feel beads of sweat forming on my forehead, anxiety coursing through my veins like an electric current.

"These are... the missiles on the Egyptian borders, that Militias of Anubia launched," I finally managed to say, my voice wavering.

The crooked smile on Maria's face grew wider, her eyes never leaving mine.

"What's your verdict?" she asked again, her tone suggesting that she was seeking a specific answer, one that I struggled to articulate. I glanced at the paper in my hand, at the numbers written in ink, and at the additional information I had recorded in pencil.

Then, it dawned on me what she was really after.

Maria wanted to test my intellect.

"These are...fake. The numbers are fake," I mumbled, my voice barely audible. Maria took a step closer, her baby blue suit impeccably tailored, her hands casually tucked into her pockets.

"Why are these numbers fake?" she asked once more, as if she already knew the answer.

I began to search for a logical explanation within my mind, the cogs of my brain turning as I analyzed the situation.

"Either someone gave you fake numbers, or..." I trailed off, hesitant to voice my suspicions.

"Or?" Maria locked her gaze onto mine, her eyes unwavering.

"Or... someone marked the numbers on the warhead to tarnish Volkner's name," I mumbled.

Maria's grin expanded into the most prideful, satisfied expression I had ever seen. Her eyes sparkled with joy as she looked at me.

I had never witnessed someone being so proud of me before.

"Why do you think that?" she asked, her gaze piercing as she reached for the juices. Placing one on my table, she sipped from the other through its straw.

"Look at the locations, some were sold to the USA, some to Israel, some to Germany and Sweden... two numbers, they don't even exist," I hastily pointed out, offering my wildest guesses.

"You know, Kay," she said as she took the paper from me, "Militias can purchase used scraps of warheads from the black market and utilize them after some repair work," she explained.

"Yes, but that still doesn't explain the fact that two numbers are fake," I countered confidently.

Maria smiled kindly at me as she considered my words. "Why do you think the Militias would do that?"

I confessed my ignorance, "I'm sorry, but I have absolutely no clue about Anubia's politics. I have no idea."

Maria's smile persisted as she revealed her insight. "Because it wasn't the work of the Militias. It was the Juntas. They had lied to us on our fucking face."

WHAT THE FUCK! 

I couldn't contain my confusion and frustration. "Why would they do this and tell such a colossal lie to the public?" I nearly shouted at her.

"Because," Maria stated calmly, "they want Rhys to back off."

I struggled to connect the dots. "What does Rhys have to do with any of this?"

"Because," she explained with a hint of frustration, "he is helping his cousin regain his daddy's throne."

OH

MY

GOD.

Maria continued to unravel the intricate web of deception. 

"........And neither the Junta nor the Militia want that to happen. So, they framed your Sameer. Rhys foolishly killed those men who tried to kidnap you. Because if they can harm you to fuck with him, he would back off from helping Naseer. They know it's impossible to harm him directly, so you're his biggest weakness, and they'll do anything to exploit it." 

I felt trapped, tears welling up in my eyes. Maria offered me the juice, her voice filled with sympathy and concern. "Drink it, it will calm you down," she suggested.

"Why don't you just declare that Rhys and I are not together?" I asked, my voice trembling.

Maria sighed. "Remember the way you two danced around in Paris, went to romantic cycling lessons, the way you kissed under the stars on the Ponte de la Concorde?"

OH GOD. OH GOD. 

"Remember how he picked you up and walked you outside the vehicle? Remember how you walked into Volkner HQ to Maria Volkner's office, today? Just an hour ago?" Maria's words painted a vivid picture of my vulnerability.

Every word Maria spoke made me realize the extent of the danger I was in. 

"Every single person from our enemies follows your every move. We literally had to retrieve your old phone that the kidnappers had thrown from the window so that nobody could access your information. We had to lock your bank account a few months ago and merge your transaction history with ours to keep your shopping habits hidden. Rhys has appointed at least 100 people in the last 4 months to keep an eye on you, for your safety."

Tears streamed down my cheeks as I struggled to cope with the overwhelming truth.

"I'm sorry for all this, Kay," Maria admitted with a guilty tone.

I whispered under my breath, "It's okay, it's not your fault."

"Actually, it is," Maria countered. I shook my head, unwilling to place blame on her. But Maria insisted otherwise.

"Rhys had no clue that this would happen," Maria explained. "We always do security checks before involving our business or personal tasks with anyone. He was just inquiring about you, to see whether you were single or not, whether he was your type or not..."

Wait a Minute.

"What?" I was furious, he could have just asked me.

 Maria continued, "He should have talked to you like a normal, rational human being. But his ex was so toxic, so obsessed with his wealth and social status, that Rhys was terrified of falling in love again with the wrong woman. She made all our lives hell and launched a smear campaign after dumping him... Marco still gets angry at the mention of her name."

I couldn't help but express my exasperation. "I am indeed the wrong woman for Rhys. I hate him."

Maria chuckled at my outburst. "You're way smarter than Rhys, no doubt. I wonder what would have happened if he had told you who he was from the beginning."

I turned my head toward her, consumed by a potent mix of frustration and bewilderment. Her radiant smile seemed to light up the room, and her laughter flowed like an enchanting, undiscovered wild water fountain, adding an unexpected touch of magic to the moment.

-------------------------------------------------

The grand clock in the Chateau's lobby chimed 11 p.m., marking the late hour. Determined, I strolled through the lavish stairhall, the echo of my steps mingling with the clock's melody. The main lobby awaited me, where Nina was eager to showcase her royal-worthy dress collection for my upcoming birthday bash.

Ascending the staircase, I spotted Rhys, looking exhausted but undeniably captivating with inked tattoos peeking from his rolled-up sleeves. His shirt, casually unbuttoned, hinted at intricate designs on his chest. Disheveled hair added a raw allure.

In tow, I carried a bold red gown with a flirtatious V-neckline, exposing a teasing hint of my navel. Hesitant at first, Nina convinced me to try it, and its vibrant allure now clung to me like a second skin.

Rhys' eyes lingered on my partially exposed breasts, almost gasping at the view. Never daring to wear something so revealing in his presence before, it was clear he was captivated. With one hand, I modestly covered my cleavage, expressing disdain as I defiantly extended my middle finger while passing him. Descending the stairs, I noticed the dance of desire in Rhys' eyes, tinged with familiar mischief.

Before entering the grand salon with Nina's dress display, I withdrew my hand from my cleavage, ensuring Rhys saw, and proudly presented both middle fingers to him without hesitation.

Genuinely bothered, perplexed by my actions, he couldn't fathom why I treated him this way. While most women would love to be in my position, I treated him like trash, as if his hurtful words were forgotten.

Rhys remained the same arrogant man, never seeking forgiveness. I would've forgiven him had he humbled himself, but his insufferable ego seemed impervious to the damage he caused.

A burning desire to deflate his ego, to crush his pride, consumed me. Gazing at him with those intense blue eyes filled with yearning, a steely determination took hold. I was resolute in my mission to teach him a lesson he'd never forget.

He'd said he wouldn't mind being a villain in my story.

Fine, I'd teach him how to be a damn villain.