The phone in my hand vibrated so violently it felt like a ticking time bomb, the word ENCRYPTED flashing in a sickening, neon green light against the dark screen. Every single cell in my body screamed at me to run, but my feet were glued to the concrete. A cold sweat broke out across my forehead as the imposing figure by the matte-black SUV kept his eyes locked on me, the device pressed to his ear perfectly syncing with the rhythmic, terrifying buzzing in my palm.
“Don’t you dare answer that, Alexis!” my father hissed, his fingernails digging painfully into my wrist. His voice was nothing more than a ragged, terrified whisper, but his eyes were wide with a frantic, animalistic horror. “If you speak to them, they track your location. They map your biometric data. They will know you have the envelope!”
My heart was racing so hard I could hear the thumping in my ears, drowning out the distant sounds of the city. I looked down at the crumpled, blood-stained manila envelope clutched in my left hand, then back at the stranger in the dark coat. The psychological pressure was suffocating. I wanted to drop everything and sprint away, but the sheer gravity of what my father had just said—that this paper held the truth about my mother’s mysterious “accident” ten years ago—kept me paralyzed.
Suddenly, the stranger by the SUV took a slow, deliberate step forward into the dim glow of the campus streetlight. He didn’t look like a typical thug or an assassin. He wore an expensive, flawless gray overcoat, and his expression was completely detached, almost professional. He slowly lowered his phone.
At that exact microsecond, the buzzing in my hand stopped. The silence that followed was deafening.
“Alexis Vance,” a smooth, digitally altered voice suddenly boomed, not from my phone, but from the speaker system of the idling SUV. The sound echoed off the stone walls of the university courtyard, making my stomach drop into a bottomless pit of absolute dread. “Your father is a desperate man spinning a web of desperate lies. Look at him. Look at the coward who left you with nothing.”
I looked down at my father. He was shivering violently, his jaw slack, staring at the vehicle as if he were looking directly at the grim reaper. “No, no, no… they weren’t supposed to find us this fast,” he muttered, completely losing his mind. “They hacked the mainframe. They know everything.”
“Throw the envelope into the street, Alexis, and walk away,” the voice from the SUV commanded, the tone dripping with an eerie, calm authority. “Do it, and your student debts disappear. Your career is guaranteed. You will inherit the empire your father stole from you. But keep it… and you inherit his grave.”
A suffocating panic surged through my chest. A literal devil’s bargain was being laid out before me on the night of my graduation. I could hand over the bloody papers, save my own skin, and finally get the wealth and recognition I had been denied my entire life. Or I could trust the father who had abandoned me, protect a family that treated me like garbage, and risk being hunted down.
“Don’t do it, Alexis…” my father begged, his voice cracking as he looked up at me with tears in his eyes. “The envelope… it’s not just about the money. It’s the only thing keeping you alive. If they get it, they don’t need a replacement heir anymore. Julian didn’t just betray us… Julian is working for them!”
Before the shock of his words could even register, the rear passenger window of the matte-black SUV slowly, silently rolled down.
The interior light clicked on, illuminating the person sitting in the back seat. My breath caught in my throat, and a violent chill ran down my spine, freezing the blood in my veins. Sitting in the plush leather seat, casually sipping a glass of champagne with a twisted, mocking smirk on his face, was Julian. But he wasn’t alone. Tied up, gagged, and bruised in the seat next to him was the one person in this world I loved more than anyone—my grandmother.
Julian leaned slightly toward the open window, his eyes gleaming with a malicious, triumphant satisfaction. He raised a finger to his lips, making a slow, mocking “shh” motion, before pointing a small, silver remote control directly at my father’s bleeding car.
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