Adrian's POV
The blast is still ringing in my ears when I move.
I don't think. I just grab the person closest to me in the darkness and pull them down, covering their body with mine as another shot fires overhead. Glass bursts somewhere to my left. Women scream. Men shout. Complete chaos.
"Stay down," I tell the person beneath me. Small. Trembling. Definitely a woman.
"Let me go!" she gasps, fighting. "My sister—Vivian—I need to—"
Mira Chen. Of course. The world has a sick sense of humor.
Ten seconds ago, I was watching her fight to make a choice between me and my useless brother. Now I'm lying on top of her on a marble floor while someone tries to kill everyone in this room.
"Your sister is fine," I tell her, keeping my voice calm even though my heart is racing. "The shots are coming from the east door. She's on the west side."
"How do you know?" Mira asks.
"Because I pay attention." I shift slightly, making sure I'm hiding her from the shooter's angle. My protection team should be here any second. Where the hell are they?
Another shot. This one hits the wall behind us, and I feel Mira flinch beneath me.
"Someone's trying to kill us," she whispers.
"Yes. Very observant." I scan the darkness, looking for movement. Emergency lights should have kicked in by now. Someone blocked them on purpose.
This isn't a random act. This is planned.
"Adrian!" My father's voice booms from somewhere in the chaos. "Ethan! Where are you?"
"Here," I call back. "Stay down!"
Footsteps pound toward us—multiple people moving fast. My security team finally. Flashlight beams cut through the darkness, and I hear my head of security, Marcus, yelling orders.
"Shooter fled through the east exit! Johnson, Rodriguez, chase! Everyone else, secure the room!"
The emergency lights blink on, bathing everything in dim red. I look down at Mira beneath me. Her eyes are wide, scared, but she's not crying. She's not crazy. She's just... calculating.
Like she's trying to figure something out.
"Are you hurt?" I ask.
She shakes her head. "No. Are you?"
"No." I stand up and offer her my hand. She takes it, her fingers ice-cold.
Around us, people are getting up, checking themselves for injuries, crying. Vivian Chen is across the room, clinging to Ethan, who's patting her shoulder uncomfortably. My father stands near the middle, looking furious.
"Everyone stay calm!" my father says. "Security is handling the situation. No one leaves until the police come."
Mira's hand is still in mine. I understand I haven't let go, and neither has she.
"Thank you," she says quietly. "For covering me."
"Don't thank me. I did it on gut." I drop her hand and step back, putting professional space between us. "Anyone would have done the same."
"No," she says, her eyes locked on mine. "They wouldn't."
Something about the way she says it makes my chest tighten. Like she knows something I don't.
Before I can ask what she means, Marcus approaches. "Mr. Blackwell. We need to talk. Now."
I nod and start to turn away, but Mira grabs my arm.
"Wait," she says quickly. "The shooter wasn't trying to hit everyone."
Marcus and I both stare at her.
"What do you mean?" Marcus asks.
"The shots." Mira's voice shakes but stays calm. "Three shots, right? The first one went toward the middle of the room where Vivian and I were standing. The second went high—like they missed. The third hit the wall behind us. " She looks at me. "Behind where Adrian pulled me down."
"So?" Marcus looks confused.
But I'm not confused. I'm starting to understand.
"So the shooter was tracking movement," I say slowly. "They changed their aim after I moved Mira. Which means—"
"Which means they weren't trying to kill everyone," Mira finishes. "They were trying to kill one specific person."
"You?" Marcus asks her.
Mira's face goes pale. "I don't know. Maybe. Or maybe..." She looks across the room at Vivian, who's still wrapped around Ethan like a plant. "Maybe they were aiming for my sister."
Marcus pulls out his radio. "I need to run this up the chain. Don't move." He walks away, speaking quickly into his device.
I study Mira Chen more carefully now. Twenty-five years old. Daughter of a failing home. Supposedly here to meet the Blackwell brothers and secure a rich marriage like dozens of other ambitious women.
But nothing about her is adding up.
She analyzed the gunshots like a trained expert. She didn't worry. And now she's standing here, pale but calm, like she's seen worse things than an attempted murder.
"Who are you really?" I ask quietly.
She blinks. "What?"
"You're not who you claim to be. I've met a thousand women like your sister—beautiful, driven, calculating. But you?" I step closer, dropping my voice so only she can hear. "You're something else entirely."
For just a second, something flashes in her eyes. Fear? Guilt? Secrets?
Then it's gone, and she laughs—a shaky, nervous sound. "I'm just a scared girl who almost got shot. That's all."
"Liar."
The word hangs between us like a dare. Mira's jaw tightens.
"Excuse me?"
"You're lying." I lean closer. "I don't know what about. But you're hiding something big. And I'm very good at finding secret things."
"Adrian!" My father's voice stops us. He strides over, his face like thunder. "We need to talk. All of us. Now." He looks at Mira. "That includes you, Miss Chen."
We follow him to his study—me, Mira, Ethan, Vivian, and Marcus. The room feels too small with all of us inside.
"Close the door," my father tells Marcus, who obeys.
Then my father turns to face us, and I've never seen him look so serious.
"That wasn't a random shooting," he says flatly. "Marcus just confirmed it. The shooter left something behind." He puts a folded piece of paper on his desk. "A note."
"What does it say?" Ethan asks nervously.
My father spreads the paper and reads aloud: "One of the Chen sisters is lying about who she really is. One of them is dangerous. And one of the Blackwell boys is going to die because of her. This is your only warning."
Silence.
Vivian makes a small, choked sound. Ethan goes pale. Mira stands perfectly still, like a rock.
And I understand something terrifying.
Mira doesn't look shocked.
She looks like she expected this.
"Miss Chen," my father says to Mira, his voice cold. "Is there something you'd like to tell us? Because if you and your sister are engaged in some scheme that puts my sons in danger—"
"We're not," Mira interrupts. Her voice is steady. Strong. "I swear to you, we're not part of whatever this is."
"Then explain," my father demands, "why the note specifically names the Chen sisters. Why someone is threatening my family because of you."
Mira opens her mouth. Closes it. Opens it again.
And that's when Vivian starts laughing.
Not nervous laughs. Not scared laughs. Cold, sour laughter that makes everyone turn to stare at her.
"Oh, this is rich," Vivian says, wiping her eyes. "This is absolutely perfect."
"Vivian," Mira says quietly. "Don't—"
"Why not?" Vivian's eyes glitter with something dangerous. "They want to know which Chen sister is lying? I'll tell them." She looks straight at me. "My sister has eight million dollars stored in a secret bank account. Money our whole family doesn't know about. Money she's been hiding for two years while our parents drown in debt."
Mira's face drains of color.
"And that's not all," Vivian continues fiercely. "Want to know what else is interesting? The officer who called me earlier? She said our grandmother didn't die normally. She was killed." Vivian's smile is evil. "And guess who gets everything when Grandma dies? Guess who gets eight million dollars?"
The consequences hang in the air like poison.
"You think I killed her?" Mira's voice is barely a whisper. "You think I murdered our grandmother for money?"
"I don't know what to think anymore," Vivian snaps. "But you've been lying about everything. So yeah, maybe you did."
"That's insane—"
"Is it?" Vivian turns to my father. "She's been acting weird all day. Asking strange things. And now someone shoots at us and leaves a note saying one of us is dangerous?" She laughs again. "I know it's not me. Which means—"
"It's not her either."
Everyone turns to look at me. I don't know why I'm supporting Mira Chen. I don't know her. I don't trust her.
But I know what a killer looks like. And whatever Mira is hiding, it's not murder.
"How do you know?" my father asks.
"Because," I say slowly, "if Mira wanted to be dangerous, she wouldn't be standing here letting her sister accuse her. She'd be running. Or fighting back. Or—"
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out and freeze.
A text from an unknown number: "Check Mira Chen's jacket pocket. Right now. If you want to save your brother's life."
I look up at Mira. Her eyes are wide, confused.
"What?" she asks. "What's wrong?"
I walk toward her slowly. "Do you have anything in your pockets?"
"No. I don't think—" She stops, fear crossing her face. "Wait. My jacket. The one I wore here. Where is it?"
Marcus points to the coat rack by the door where several jackets hang.
I find hers—simple, dark—and reach into the right pocket.
My fingers close around something cold and metal.
I pull it out and stare at what's in my hand.
A small bottle of clear liquid. And a needle.
"What is that?" Ethan asks.
But I know what it is. I recognize it from the study I've done, the endless medical trials, the desperate attempts to save my mother.
"It's poison," I say quietly. "The same poison that's been slowly killing my mother for the past three years."
I look at Mira Chen, and everything clicks into horrible place.
"Someone," I say slowly, "has been trying to kill my mother. And they just tried to frame you for it."