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Sara snapped awake, gasping for air. Her hand flew to her chest, clawing at her shirt as she struggled to force oxygen into her burning lungs. Cold sweat slicked her temples. The nightmare from fourteen years ago was back, unraveling her completely.
She doubled over, a hacking cough wracking her frame. It was the permanent toll of the smoke she had inhaled to save a boy from the inferno all those years ago.
In the dim room, her trembling hand fumbled across the nightstand, snatching her inhaler. She took a deep, shaky breath. Once her heart rate steadied, she looked around the cramped, stale room.
This tenement was the silent witness to her family's ruin. Her bravery a decade ago had cost them everything.
Her father’s business had gone under, bled dry by his desperate, years-long search for Maya, the younger sister who had vanished the same night. Now, the man who had once been a titan lay frail on the bed across the room. Broken by an old gunshot wound and the weight of his own guilt.
“Sara...?” His raspy voice cut through the silence.
Sara wiped the sweat from her brow, forcing a mask of calm as she moved to his side. “I’m here, Dad. Time for your medicine.”
She helped him sit, holding out a glass of water and a few pills. But just as the glass neared his lips, a deafening crash shook the room.
BANG!
The front door splintered inward, collapsing into a heap of wreckage.
She flinched. The glass slipped from her fingers, shattering on the floor. Before she could process the chaos, heavy footsteps thundered inside.
A man stepped through the dust. He was imposing, wrapped in a sharp, expensive black suit. His face was striking, a defined jaw, a bone-chilling-expression, and his dark eyes locked onto hers with the raw intensity of a predator cornering its prey.
Sara had never seen him before, but he radiated danger. Behind him, several men in matching suits filled the doorway, cutting off any hope of escape.
“Who are you?” She stepped in front of her father, arms spread wide, trying to be a shield.
The stranger didn't speak. His movements were calm and measured as he reached inside his suit jacket.
In a heartbeat, a semi-automatic pistol was in his grip. Without a second's hesitation, he trained the weapon at her father, who had gone pale with terror.
Sara stopped breathing. The echo of gunfire from the past roared in her head. She remembered that night—how her father had taken a bullet for a boy she had tried to save, and the sister who had disappeared without a trace.
Click.
The sound of the safety being disengaged froze her blood.
“I'm not a patient man.” His voice was low, slow, and dripping with malice. He tossed a thick folder onto the mattress at Sara’s feet.
Sara glanced down. Her heart hammered against her ribs. “What is that?”
He looked at her then. His gaze burned with raw, unexplained hatred.
“A marriage contract.” His lips curled into a cold smirk. “You have two choices. Sign the paper and come with me, or…”
He closed the distance in two long strides. He pressed the cold muzzle of the gun under her chin, forcing her head up and meet his eyes.
“...or I’ll blow that useless old man’s brains out right in front of you.”
At that very moment the Moretti cargo ship exploded.Sara stood on the lifeboat, hugging her shivering frame. In the distance, the blaze from the explosion clawed at the night sky, casting dancing orange shadows across the dark water.The sight mirrored the nightmare of her past.That night, years ago, when her family first arrived in San Marito, Albert had intended to pay a courtesy call to the Lockwood family—Damon’s parents. Instead, they had walked straight into hell. Fire devoured the Lockwood mansion, swallowing the structure in thick, suffocating black smoke.From the car window, Sara had seen a sight that made her heart stop. Trapped behind a cracking window on the upper floor was a teenage boy—Damon.“Stay in the car, Sara! Maya!” her father had shouted before rushing out to call for help.The air grew lethal. Ignoring the danger and her father’s command, Sara unbuckled her belt and bolted.“Sara, don’t!” Maya screamed, but Sara was already gone.
Felix—Damon’s right-hand man—had just returned from the investigation. He entered Damon’s study to submit the casualty list from the ship explosion. He took a seat in front of the desk, not daring to interrupt Damon, who was replaying the CCTV footage repeatedly.Damon hit pause on the figure of Sara in the video, being dragged onto the cargo ship by several masked men. His gaze shifted to the report on the desk. He leafed through the pages and photos of victims destroyed by the explosion. Not a single living soul had survived.“The cargo ship was carrying chemical loads from our factory, Sir. It’s nearly impossible for any remains to be recovered. We only found charred metal fragments and fabric.”Damon’s hand stopped at an image of a fabric scrap snagged on the ship’s wreckage. His eyes narrowed, and one brow arched, as if he had spotted something amiss.“Her body was obliterated in the blast, yet her clothes survived on the wreckage?”Damon Moretti never believed in coincidences, n
“The cargo ship exploded in the middle of the ocean, Sir. Our team is currently heading to the location for further investigation.”Damon stood like a statue by the window, staring into the dark sky. His jaw was clenched so tight the muscles in his temples throbbed.He didn't need to roar to broadcast his fury. The pressure in the room alone was enough to suffocate anyone present.The subordinate who reported the news swallowed hard, hesitating to continue. “Sir… the port’s CCTV footage shows Mrs. Sara being dragged into that very ship. It seems—”The door slammed open, cutting him off. Roger strode in uninvited. His face twisted into a sickening smirk as he stopped before Damon’s desk.“I heard your little wife was kidnapped? And just now, our cargo ship, which those intruders hijacked, exploded in the middle of the ocean.” Roger blatantly displayed his joy at his adoptive brother’s defeat. “What a pity… my little brother, who hasn't been married long, is suddenly a widower.”Damon r
Sara no longer cried. Her eyes, once filled with fear, had turned hollow. Revenge was the only fuel left in her soul after her father was ripped away.Roger walked into the room without knocking. He watched Sara packing her meager belongings into a small bag, her hands no longer shaking.“Damon will never admit it,” he said quietly, flicking his lighter. “But you and I know the truth. He orders his servants to dispose of your father whenever he grows bored with his toys. You’re just a toy he’ll discard soon.”Sara froze. Roger’s lies masked the fact that Iris was the true mastermind.“What do you want?”“I have an escape route,” Roger continued. “Tonight, I will fake your death in a dockyard accident. You will have a new identity and vanish forever. In return, I will frame your departure as a kidnapping by an enemy organization. Damon will lose face, and his reputation in my father’s eyes will be ruined.”Sara was now certain of Roger’s intent. He wanted Damon’s destruction, just
There, Iris sat by the large window, staring at the garden with a look of fragility that always deceived those who saw her. But the moment the maid whispered in her ear, that mask of vulnerability shattered.The teacup in Iris’s hand slipped. The expensive porcelain hit the marble floor, shattering into pieces.“Sara is pregnant?” Iris hissed, staring intently at the small object in her maid's hand. Her voice was no longer shaky or raspy. It was cold, sharp, and laced with a predatory threat she had perfectly concealed until now.She gripped the armrests of her wheelchair. If Damon found out Sara was carrying his offspring, Iris’s position as the only woman Damon cherished would be jeopardized. More than that, Damon’s adoptive father would view the baby as a valuable asset. If the child were born, Sara would gain a layer of protection that neither Damon nor Iris could touch.“She cannot bear that child,” she murmured to herself.She didn’t cry. She no longer looked like a tragic vi
Three months of exile in the pavilion had passed.Sara no longer tracked time by the calendar, but by the bruises that slowly faded from her arms. Yet, something felt wrong. Her gaunt frame now felt heavier. The nausea that struck every morning was not merely a side effect of her husband's abuse. It was a clear sign.She had missed her period.“Sara, are you alright?” Her father knocked on the door, his voice laced with anxiety.“I'll be out in a moment, Dad.”She sat on the cold bathroom floor, her knuckles white as she gripped the edge of the sink. She was certain she was pregnant. The seed of the man who came to her room every night—not to offer affection, but to assert his dominance—was taking root.She stood up weakly, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her face was pale, her eyes had lost their spark, and now, a new life was growing within a womb she was supposed to protect.The bedroom door opened. Her frail father reached for her hand gently, but his eyes could not







