"The injuries were critical Mr. Alsrio," the doctor said, with that fake calm doctors wear like a mask. "She needs absolute rest. We're doing what we can."
I didn't say a word. I didn't nod. I just stood there, staring straight through him.
Beside me, my sister folded into herself—silently breaking. She clutched her mouth like she was trying to hold in a scream that had been caged since the call came in. I pulled her into me without a word. She didn't push me away.
"She's strong," I said. "She'll make it."
But deep down, I knew something was off. Way off.
That wasn't just a crash. No way in hell.
The brakes failed—but she drove that car last week and it was flawless. The location—too specific. A blind corner with no nearby traffic cams. The timing? Clean. Clean enough to be calculated and still it happened.
I got back into the car. The engine purred like it knew I was restless, like it was feeding off my rage.
But instead of my mother, instead of revenge, instead of names and numbers—My mind went to her.
Arora.
Why the hell was she in my head?
I didn't ask for this.
I didn't want this. But her face slipped through the cracks like smoke—uninvited, unrelenting. That stare—empty but deep, like she was constantly swimming in a memory too heavy for her bones-
I pushed my thoughts aside, my family is bleeding and whoever did this have no idea what hell looks like. Suspicion can go to our rivals yet if i start to count the whole day will pass. There always has been intense rivalry between Alsrio family and Remore family but i doubt their gut. If they want to do anything bad, they will do it on business side cause demolishing of Alsrio group is their main kill and they won't go personally-unless they want to lessen expire date of themselves. The call came when I least expected—but nothing really surprises me anymore.
My PA's voice was tight. Shaken. "One of our real estate branches in Madrid... it's been hit. Exploded. They're saying it was deliberate."
I didn't flinch. "Lock the area down. No media. If anyone leaks—bury them quietly." One hour later, I stepped into the smoke. Flashing lights. Sirens wailing like scared children. People running around with clipboards and panic in their eyes. I walked past them all. That building was mine. It wasn't just glass and concrete—it was territory. A piece of me stamped into the earth.
And someone had the audacity to scorch it.
I moved through the ruins like I belonged there—because I did. Fire, ash, and war are old friends of mine.
Right in the center of the rubble, lying on cracked marble like a damn crown—a cigarette. Fresh. Unlit. Just waiting. I crouched and picked it up.
Still warm.
This wasn't an accident.This was a message. And whoever lit the match of fire they wanted me to know they exist.
Ranyald Alsrio doesn't take warnings.