Prologue
Branches clawed at her gown, tearing the silk, mud smearing across once-pure white. Ciara Cross stumbled through the forest, her hand pressed against her swollen belly. Each breath burned, but she couldn't stop. She had to survive—for her child.
For weeks she had been locked away, hidden from the world by her husband, Victor, and her cousin, Clara. Tonight, she had escaped.
Behind her, his voice echoed, sharp and cold.
"Calm down. That bitch couldn't have gone far."
Ciara froze, pressing herself into the shadows as Victor and Clara's footsteps passed. Her heart pounded, but she forced herself to remain still.
When silence returned, she pushed forward, and at last—the trees broke. A road stretched before her. Headlights cut through the dark. A car was coming.
Tears filled her eyes as she raised her trembling hand. Finally… home. Finally, back to my family—
But before she could step into the light, a hand clamped over her mouth. A sharp sting pierced her neck. The world spun.
---
When she awoke, she was back in the same locked room, her dress soaked in blood. Her child… gone.
The door creaked open. Victor entered, his face carved with false regret.
"I'm sorry, Ciara. It had to come to this."
Clara followed, her laughter cruel.
"Oh, cousin, look at you. The great Ciara Cross, reduced to this. Did you really think Victor loved you? He only loved me."
She pulled Victor down, kissing him in front of her. Ciara's chest twisted with agony and rage.
"You gave him your trust. Made him your next of kin. Now the Cross empire is ours. Everything your father stole from mine will return where it belongs."
"Don't be sad, you won't be lonely, because your parents will keep you company in your grave"
"Don't worry, cousin. The world will think two lowlifes killed you. Your empire dies with you."
Ciara clawed forward, grabbing Clara's leg, dragging her down in one last desperate fight. But Victor shoved her away. Her skull cracked against the floor.
A single tear slid from her eye as darkness closed in.
If heaven gives me another chance… I won't be blind again.
-----
The car rolled down the forest road, headlights slicing through the dark. Ethan Cole sat stiffly in the passenger seat, his hands clenched.
"Jason," he muttered, "tell me again. What's the job?"
Jason smirked, keeping his eyes on the road. "We move some goods. That's all you need to know. We drop it, we get paid. Think about Lily—your sister needs that surgery."
Ethan ground his teeth. The thought of his little sister, frail in her hospital bed, silenced his protests. He glanced out the window. For a split second, he thought he saw something—a flash of white fabric, a hand raised in desperation—but it vanished into the trees before he could speak.
At last they reached the abandoned warehouse. A tall man stood waiting.
The warehouse was colder than he expected. Concrete walls. Empty space. Shadows.
Ethan Cole shifted uneasily as Victor's sharp gaze swept over him and Jason. The man stood beside a long, heavy-looking bag on the floor. Thick. Bulky.
"Put it in the trunk," Victor ordered.
Ethan hesitated, frowning. "What is it?"
Victor's smile was thin, chilling. "Not your concern. You want to be paid, don't you?"
Jason stepped forward without question, forcing a grin. "Come on, Ethan. Help me out."
Together, they heaved the bag into the trunk. It was heavier than anything Ethan had carried in years. His muscles strained, his skin prickling with unease.
"Where are we taking it?" Jason asked, wiping sweat from his brow. "Across town? Out of state?"
Victor's lips twitched. "No. Just a short drive. To the old garage down the block. Park there and wait. Someone will come for you."
Jason blinked. "That's it? That close?"
"Yes." Victor's tone was final. His gaze lingered on them, cold and watchful. Beside him, Clara's figure shifted in the shadows, silent but smiling.
Jason shrugged, dragging Ethan toward the car. "Easy money, man. Stop overthinking."
But Ethan's gut churned. His instincts screamed. Still, he climbed in. Lily's face—his little sister in her hospital bed—rose in his mind, and he forced himself to drive.
---
The garage reeked of rust and gasoline. They parked as told, silence pressing in on them. Minutes passed. No one came.
Jason drummed his fingers against the wheel. "Weird. Think they're making us wait on purpose?"
Ethan couldn't shake it. The unease gnawed at him until finally, he pulled the trunk open.
His heart stopped.
Inside the bag wasn't goods. It was a woman. Pale skin. A gown drenched in crimson. Her hands still curled around her swollen belly as if she had died protecting her child.
"That, That's a dead... dead body," Ethan stammered.
"She's… she's pregnant," Ethan whispered, his voice breaking. His stomach twisted.
Jason swore and slammed the trunk shut. "Dammit, Ethan! We weren't supposed to see that. Close it, forget it—we just wait, we get paid."
But Ethan's chest heaved. His vision spun. They had carried a dead woman. A pregnant woman.
Then his nostrils flared. His throat burned. "Jason… do you smell that?"
Gasoline.
Before they could move, flames erupted, racing along the floor.
"Shit!" Jason shouted, yanking at the door. Ethan stumbled out, coughing, but the fire leapt too fast, swallowing the garage in seconds.
The car exploded behind them. Heat and force ripped through the air, hurling them back into the inferno.
---
And so it ended. Ciara, betrayed and discarded. Ethan and Jason, framed and burned.
When the police searched the wreckage, the evidence would be damning. Cameras would show Ethan and Jason lifting the bag, driving the car, parking at the garage. They would forever be branded as the kidnappers and killers of Ciara Cross.
But heaven was not done with them yet.