Maya's POV
I didn't sleep that night.
How could I? Every time I closed my eyes, I saw two versions of Damien Cross—the one trying to save my father, and the one who might have killed him.
By morning, I'd made a decision: trust no one. Not even the man who made my heart race.
Especially not him.
I met Reyna at her apartment at dawn. She'd already cleared her dining table, and I spread out copies of my father's files across it.
Six folders. Six suspects. Six reasons my father was dead.
Okay. Reyna handed me coffee. Let's break this down. Who's most likely to have killed him?
I opened the first folder. Victoria Chen. Chief Medical Officer. Brilliant doctor who advanced my mother's medical patents further than anyone.
Motive?
Dad discovered she was planning to steal Mom's patents and sell them to GeneMed Corporation for two hundred million dollars. He confronted her a week before he died.
That's a strong motive. Reyna made notes. What's she like?
I thought about Victoria's cold intelligence, her passion for medical research. Driven. Ruthless when it comes to her work. But she genuinely believes she's saving lives. She might kill to protect her career, but would she kill for money?
People kill for less.
I moved to the next folder. Marcus Webb. CFO. Charming, manipulative, excellent at making money appear and disappear.
Let me guess—he was stealing.
Millions. Maybe more. Dad started auditing him three weeks before he died. Marcus knew he was getting close to proof.
Reyna whistled. That's a death sentence in corporate world. What's your read on him?
Dangerous. He's the type who'd smile while stabbing you in the back. And he's been... friendly. Too friendly. Like he's trying to charm me into trusting him.
Or into bed, Reyna muttered. Be careful with that one.
The next folder made my skin crawl. Sophia Laurent. Dad's executive assistant for three years. She was the last person to see him alive.
And?
And she barely exists. Dad's notes say her background is completely fabricated. No records before three years ago. It's like she appeared out of nowhere with a perfect resume and fake identity.
That's terrifying.
It gets worse. I pulled out another file. She's actually Sophia Volkov. Natasha's younger sister. They hid their relationship from everyone, including Dad.
Reyna sat back. Why would Richard hire both sisters without knowing they were related?
That's what I can't figure out. Either they fooled him completely, or
Or he knew and was using one to spy on the other.
I moved to the next folder. James Park. Head of Operations. Rose from factory floor to executive suite over twenty years. Dad's most loyal employee.
What's his motive?
Ethics. He was organizing workers to unionize, which would cost the company billions. Dad threatened to fire him and blacklist him from the industry. They had a massive fight about overseas labor practices two weeks before the accident.
Could loyalty turn to murder?
If pushed far enough? Maybe. I thought about James's warm smile, his genuine care for workers. But he's the only one who seems to actually have a conscience.
Conscience doesn't mean innocent.
Folder number five. Natasha Volkov. Chief Strategy Officer. Corporate ice queen. Former merger-and-acquisitions specialist.
Family secrets?
A factory fire twenty years ago. Her family's company cut corners, killed workers. She buried the evidence to protect her family name. Dad found out two months before he died and was going to expose her.
So she had everything to lose.
And she's the one pushing hardest for the company sale. She'd make a fortune if it goes through.
I stared at the last folder. The one I'd been avoiding.
Damien Cross, Reyna said quietly. Head of Security. The one you're falling for.
I'm not
Maya. I've known you since college. I can see it in your eyes every time you say his name.
I opened his folder with shaking hands. He was supposed to be in the car with Dad. Always was. But he got called away on a fake emergency the day Dad died.
Convenient.
Too convenient. Either someone set him up to survive, or he orchestrated the whole thing. I showed her the security footage—both versions. Someone's trying to make me think he's guilty. Question is: are they lying or telling the truth?
Reyna studied both videos. This is sophisticated. Whoever edited this knows what they're doing.
All of them are sophisticated. All of them are smart enough to kill and cover it up. I slumped back. They all have motive. They all had opportunity. And I'm supposed to get close to all of them.
That's what scares you?
That's what terrifies me. Because I stopped.
Because you're already emotionally compromised with at least one of them, Reyna finished.
Before I could respond, someone knocked on the door.
We both froze.
You expecting someone? I whispered.
No.
Another knock. Harder.
Reyna grabbed a kitchen knife. I pulled out my phone, ready to call 911.
Maya. Damien's voice through the door. I know you're in there. Open up.
My heart did something complicated.
How did he know I was here? I hissed at Reyna.
Probably tracking your phone. You know, like a stalker. Or a bodyguard. Hard to tell the difference.
I opened the door.
Damien stood there looking dangerous and exhausted, like he hadn't slept either. His eyes went immediately to the files spread across Reyna's table.
You're profiling all of us.
Yes.
Including me.
Especially you.
Something flickered in his expression—hurt? Understanding?
He walked in without being invited, went straight to the table, and picked up his own folder.
Don't— I started.
He opened it. Read his father's notes. Saw the evidence, the suspicions, the timeline that made him look guilty.
When he looked up, his eyes were dark. Your father was right to suspect me.
My heart stopped. What?
I was the last line of defense. If someone got past me, if someone managed to kill him, it meant I'd failed. Which makes me either incompetent or complicit. He set down the folder. So yes. Suspect me. Profile me. Investigate me. You should.
That's not— I didn't know what to say.
But while you're investigating, consider this. He moved closer, and my pulse spiked. Six suspects. All with motive. All with opportunity. But only one of them is desperate enough to stay this close to you, knowing you think they're a killer.
Because you're protecting me?
Or because I'm playing the long game. His eyes held mine. You won't know until it's too late. That's what's killing you, isn't it? That you want to trust me, but you can't afford to.
He was right. God, he was right.
Why are you here, Damien?
Because someone just sent flowers to your apartment.
My stomach dropped. What kind of flowers?
White lilies. The same flowers that were on your father's casket. He pulled out his phone, showing me a photo. With a note: 'One down. Six to go. Love, The Heir Who's Waiting.'
The room spun.
One down, Reyna breathed. Your father. Six to go
The six heirs, I finished. Someone's threatening to kill all of them.
Or someone's threatening to kill you after they eliminate the competition. Damien's jaw clenched. Either way, the game just changed.
My phone buzzed.
Unknown number. A photo appeared.
White lilies arranged in the shape of a coffin.
The message underneath made my blood freeze:
They're all guilty of something, Maya. Your father knew that. Now they're all going to die for it—one by one. Unless you figure out which one deserves to live.
Tick tock.
The first one dies in 48 hours.
Another message:
P.S. - Want a hint? The first to die isn't who you'd expect. It's the one you're starting to trust. Sweet dreams.
I looked up at Damien, horror washing over me.
What? he asked, seeing my expression.
The first target. My voice shook. It's you.
His face went carefully blank. How do you know?
Because the message said 'the one you're starting to trust.' Tears burned my eyes. And you're the only one I'm stupid enough to trust.
For a moment, neither of us moved. Then Damien's hand cupped my face.
Then I guess we have 48 hours to figure out which of the other five wants me dead. His thumb brushed my cheekbone. Think you can keep me alive that long?
I don't know. Can you?
His smile was dark. Guess we'll find out together.
My phone buzzed again.
Wrong answer, Maya. The first target isn't Damien.
It's whoever you DON'T suspect.
Which means you just saved the wrong person.
Oops.
I stared at the message, my mind racing.
If Damien wasn't the target, then who
Reyna's phone rang.
She answered, and her face went white. Maya. Turn on the news. Now.
I grabbed the remote, flipped to the news channel.
BREAKING: Sinclair Global Executive Found Dead in Apparent Suicide
The reporter's voice filled the room: Victoria Chen, Chief Medical Officer of Sinclair Global Industries, was found dead in her home this morning. Police are investigating it as a possible suicide, though sources say
The remote slipped from my hands.
Victoria was dead.
The first heir was already gone.
And I'd spent the last hour suspecting the wrong person.
Damien's phone rang. He answered, listened, and his expression went deadly.
It wasn't suicide, he said quietly. Someone staged it. The scene was too perfect. Too clean.
How many are left? I whispered.
Five heirs. Forty-eight hours until the next one. He looked at me, and I saw fear in his eyes for the first time. Maya, whoever's doing this—they're not just killing the heirs. They're testing you. Making you choose who to save and who to suspect.
What if I choose wrong?
Then someone else dies. And their blood is on your hands.
My phone buzzed one final time.
Round One complete. Five more to go.
Choose wisely, Maya.
Because the next person who dies?
It might be the one you're falling in love with.
I looked at Damien, at Reyna, at the files spread across the table.
Victoria was dead.
Five suspects remained.
Forty-eight hours until the next murder.
And I had to figure out who the killer was before they eliminated everyone—including the man I was terrified I was starting to love.
The game had changed.
And I was already losing.