Hours turned into days. Days turned into weeks.
It had been a full week since the incident. Star still hadn't woken up. And Lucian? He had no idea where Frieda had gone. He'd tracked her to every hole she could have sunk into—but nothing. He was almost disappointed in himself. The mafia boss of Crestfall, and he couldn't find one woman with a vendetta and a daughter-shaped shadow.
He sat at his desk, working on his laptop. The screen showed a simulation of a machine gun he was designing. Maybe you didn't know—Lucian was a structural engineer by profession. He used his skills to create and design lethal weapons for his clients. Illegal, yes. But he was the mafia boss. Legal wasn't in the job description.
His phone rang.
He frowned at the caller ID. Unexpected.
"Good morning, Mr. Thorne. This is Catherine from Summit Heights," the nurse said.
Lucian's frown deepened. "Why are you calling, Catherine?"
"You haven't collected your mother's belongings."
Lucian sighed. For a brief, foolish moment, he'd thought maybe the hospital was calling because they'd spotted Star. But no. Just items. Just reminders of a woman who'd raised him and then left him alone in this mess of a world.
He'd posted Star's picture all over the city—missing. The police were looking for Frieda Grimm as a wanted person in connection with the murder of Loise Set. But still. Nothing.
He palmed his face. He'd totally forgotten to collect his mother's things.
"Okay. I'll be there." He hung up like he was the one who'd made the call.
"Boss." Lyrl entered with a list. "These are the weapons our current client is requesting."
"Great." Lucian didn't look up. "I'll be done with them in two weeks."
He continued working on his laptop. The machine gun simulation rotated slowly on the screen. Death, designed with precision.
At Crestfall University, the campus was drowning in regret.
The management had finally discovered the truth: the nude pictures were deepfakes. They'd recovered the originals—videos of Star strapped to a metal bed in fear, hooligans hovering over her, preparing to rape her. The truth had come out, but it had come too late.
Crestfall University was a college of the elite and the rich. Any poor child who attended was on scholarship. Star had been exactly that. And now, the university's reputation was tainted. They'd expelled a student who couldn't defend herself—without any prior investigation.
Today, they'd called a shareholder meeting.
"The kid is nowhere to be found." The university chancellor, Mr. Dalton, adjusted his glasses. "There hasn't been any arrest yet. But somehow, we're to be blamed?"
The meeting was about to start. Some very important people hadn't arrived yet. Or maybe they wouldn't come at all.
"I don't think that's why we're here, Mr. Dalton," Mrs. Welma said. She wasn't a shareholder, but the meeting had invited her. She'd been Star's trusted person. The manager of the institution's residential department.
"Mr. Hayes?" The chancellor looked up. "We were expecting Mr. Stark."
Lazarus entered the board room. His expression was not friendly.
"Yes. And I wanted a three-month leave." Lazarus's voice was flat. "But we can't always get what we want, can we?"
Frowns rippled across the room. Lazarus didn't care. Adrian had been giving him tough jobs for a week now—ever since Star refused to wake up. Lazarus had to take over Adrian's tasks at the office while Adrian worked from home because he doesn't trust anyone. More tasks. Overtime. Little to no time for himself.
He really didn't care how he talked to these entitled elites. Without sitting, Lazarus put his briefcase on the desk, opening it.
"Mr. Stark wants to revoke his shareholdership from the institution. " Lazarus smiled—creepy, thin, and satisfied.
Mr. Dalton flinched.
"What do you mean, revoking?" The chancellor's voice rose. "Is this about that girl?"
Stark Architects was the majority shareholder in the institution. They'd designed most of the Science and Technology buildings. Having Adrian himself as a student increased the company's stock to eighty-seven percent. But if Adrian withdrew his shareholdership, withdrew as a student, extracted his name from the institution? That would be a major blow. The university might as well close down.
All for one student.
Star was smart. Intelligent. She'd put the university on the map with an electronics project she'd done. But her loss was an ant landing on Earth. Adrian's loss was a missile of the highest nuclear grade. The impact was just... different.
The chancellor couldn't understand why this ant was causing such a massive ripple.
"I'm just his PA." Lazarus clenched his fists. "Which he really seems to forget these days." He exhaled. Then he dropped documents on the table.
"He'll pay for all legal fees. His lawyer will be in contact."
Lazarus turned and left.
The boardroom sat in stunned silence.
***
While working from home, Adrian shot a glance at Star's room through the glass window. She was still. Fragile. The machines beeped in slow, steady rhythms—the only proof that she was still fighting.
He'd urged the doctors to connect vitamin IVs to Star so she wouldn't wake up hungry and thin. If she woke up.
"You really care about this girl, huh?"
St. Stark's voice rippled through his thoughts. Adrian turned. The old man stood in his temporary office doorway, leaning on his lion-headed cane.
"Yes, she... um..." Adrian ran a hand through his hair. "I have feelings for her. It'll be all worse for me if she turns out to be my sister."
Ever since the debates about the mantle choosing Star instead of Bonita, St. Stark had decided to do a DNA test on Star. The results were due today. Same as Bonita's.
"I'm sorry this is happening to you, my child." St. Stark placed a hand on Adrian's shoulder.
Adrian's eyes glistened. He sniffed and wiped the tears with the back of his hand. Still in sweatpants and a hoodie. He looked good—he always looked good—but he also looked like he hadn't slept in a week.
"How well do you know her?" St. Stark asked.
"She never revealed anything about her family." Adrian exhaled. "But I went to her home once. It's in the suburbs. I couldn't tell why, but it was... weird. There was a woman locked inside. From the way she spoke, it was her mother."
"The one in the news?" St. Stark asked.
"I guess so." Adrian nodded.
Meanwhile, Maria sat in her office.
She looked at the package that had just been delivered. Inside as she opened it; medical syringes filled with green liquid. She smirked.
She picked up her phone and made a call.
"I got it," she said.
Somewhere dark. Somewhere secret. Only the blue light of a computer screen reflected off a pair of glasses perched loosely on someone's nose.
He answered.
"Good," he said. A pause. "Anything else?"
"I have a pest I want to get rid of." Maria's eyes narrowed into slits. "But I'm giving it a try myself first. To see what it's got."
Her voice was so cold the air in her office seemed to drop several degrees.
She ended the call.
Lazarus had just returned from the institution and was settling back into his office to tackle his enormous tasks—tasks Adrian had dumped on him like a man unloading bricks—when a knock came at his door.
He held his face with his palm. He could feel a headache coming on. He sighed.
"Aren't you going to let me in?" Maria asked through the door.
Lazarus plastered on a pretentious smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Oh, forgive me, Mrs. Stark. Come in."
Maria sat down. "How did it go?" She smiled hopefully. "I want to see Adrian's demands."
"Demands?" Lazarus frowned.
"Yes. Adrian's a majority shareholder. I want to see what he asked for as compensation." Maria's smile widened. "You threatened them, right?"
Lazarus picked up a file from one of the stacks Adrian had asked him to work on. "Mrs. Stark, I think you and Adrian have different perspectives."
"What are you talking about?" Maria's confusion deepened.
"Boss revoked his shareholdership." Lazarus didn't even make eye contact. Just dropped the bomb like it was nothing.
Maria's mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. "That's... but..."
"He'll pay the fine himself." Lazarus finished for her.
It was afternoon. Adrian drove his Mercedes and parked at the mall.
He bought some fast food. Casual clothes—black pants, a white short-sleeved T-shirt that hugged his body and almost showed his abs. He was rarely at the mall, but he was a popular billionaire admired by everyone.
Some girls asked to take pictures with him. He obliged. Moved his lips to show his teeth in pretense of a smile and the girls were happy.
"You're really used to doing this?"
Adrian didn't look behind him. He kept walking toward his car. "You need to make your speech quick." He knew who it was. It was the reason he was at the mall in the first place. "What do you want?"
"How's Star?"
Lucian's voice was flat. But he saw Adrian's steps halt for a second.
"I have no idea." Adrian's face was expressionless.
Lucian spotted a bench by the parking lot gate. "You're going to sit on that bench and answer my questions truthfully." His voice was cold.
Adrian was amused now. "If I don't?"
A gun cocked. Adrian's smile disappeared.
"What makes you think I know where Star is?" Adrian sat on the bench, his plastic bag of food beside him. Lucian sat next to him.
"You just did." Lucian's heart steadied. "Star has feelings for you. But she's my best friend. I'm sure she asks about me—"
"She's in a coma."
Lucian's jaw tightened. "What?"
"A week ago, I caught her when she fell off a cliff. She had a deep wound through her chest." Adrian's voice was hollow. "My doctors saved her. She was supposed to wake up four days ago. Three, even. But she didn't."
Lucian processed as he breathed. "Can I see her?"
"No."
Adrian stood up and picked up his plastic. Lucian caught his wrist. Adrian looked down at where Lucian had grabbed him. Lucian let go.
"Star is strong." Lucian's voice was steady. "I'm sure she'll pull through this." A pause. "But don't say I didn't ask. I'll see her anyway."
Adrian's face went almost tomato red. God, how he hated this guy. How had Star even ended up with a friend like him?
"You can't." Adrian's voice was flat. His security sytem is so tight Lucian could be in jail before even trying to break in if that is what he's thinking of doing, "Friday is Bonita's birthday. If she hasn't woken up by then..." He paused. "The same way you contacted me to meet you here, I'll tell you to come."
He left before Lucian could answer.
Lucian smirked as he walked back to his car. Feelings. That's all he'd had to say, and Adrian's composure had already come loose.
He opened the car door and slid inside. Groceries sat in the back. A blanket. A Machangani bag tucked behind the passenger seat. But his eyes landed on the small box in the front—the one he'd picked up from the hospital together with the bag and a blanket.
When he'd gone to collect his mother's belongings, Nurse Catherine had handed him the box. She wanted to give this to you, Catherine had said. But time wasn't on their side.
It was small. The size of a phone.
Lucian picked it up and opened it.
Inside is an old, folded paper. And a ring that looked like an antique—a crest planted on its black eye.
Lucian frowned. This was the first time he'd ever seen it. And he knew—just by looking at it—that it must be worth at least a million dollars.
"We were struggling," he muttered to himself, "and you had this ring the whole time?"
He picked up the paper next. His eyes widened as he read it.
His name is Lucian, and his life is better off without being known where he belongs. —J
"What the fuck?"
He reread the paper. Then again. And again. As if reading more words would somehow change the meaning.
"Mom had this..." He sighed, realization settling into his bones like cold water. "No wonder she wanted me to find my family."
He picked up the ring again, memorizing every detail.
The ring bore the mark of the Vargra.
Its silver band was thick, unyielding, etched with patterns that resembled creeping frost—deliberate, precise, as though time itself had carved them into the metal. It was not made to impress. It was made to endure.
At its center rested a stone of absolute black, polished to a depth that swallowed light whole. No reflection. No softness. Only void.
From that darkness emerged the crest.
The Vargra.
Its form was lupine, but wrong in ways the eye could not fully reconcile. The muzzle was elongated, its fangs too refined, too deliberate—like blades shaped with intent. Its fur was not fur at all, but layered ridges, sharp and ordered, resembling armor forged for war rather than a creature born of flesh.
It did not look alive.
It looked inevitable.
The eye—cut shallow into the surface—held shadow in such a way that it seemed to follow movement, watchful and unblinking. Not a beast of instinct, but of calculation.
Encircling the black stone, a braided ring of silver bound the crest in an unbroken loop. No start. No end.
Lucian, slow and cautious, slid the ring onto his middle finger, right hand.
It fit.
He raised his hand, turning it in the light, admiring the way it settled against his skin. A grin pulled across his face—wide, almost wondering.
Then he drove straight to the Château.
"Evening, Safe," Lucian said as he walked into the kitchen, groceries in hand.
Safe smiled when he saw him. He looked better now—stronger, steadier. But he still couldn't speak. The damage to his throat had been severe, and recovery was slow. But Lucian had enrolled him in speech therapy. It would take time. But it was progress.
"You look... happy?" Safe signed with his fingers.
Lucian still never understood sign language. Never bothered to learn.
"Where's the pad I gave you?" he asked.
Safe pulled out a small notebook and a pen. He scribbled: "You look happy."
"Oh, yeah." Lucian's grin returned. "Turns out, she's at the Stark residence."
Safe smiled—but confusion lingered in his eyes. He wrote again: "Doing what? Are they already married?"
Lucian laughed. A real laugh. The first one in days.
Ever since the accident a week ago, Lucian had tried to hold onto something—someone—that belonged to Star. And Safe was that someone. Star had spent most of her time with Safe. She'd told him things while she cared for him. And just as much as Lucian knew Star, Safe did too.
So Lucian had decided to take care of Safe. Just as Star would have wanted.
He'd even gotten him physical therapy. Turned out, Safe only needed a few more days before he could walk on his own again. And now, speech therapy was in motion.
"No." Lucian's voice softened. "She's... turns out the accident hit her pretty hard. She's in a coma now."
Safe's shoulders sagged. Sadness washed over his face.
"Don't worry." Lucian rolled up his shirtsleeves and started pulling ingredients from the grocery bags. "Star's a fighter. She'll get through it."
Safe scribbled on his pad and tapped Lucian's shoulder.
"Thank you."
For some reason, Lucian's cheeks flushed. He wasn't used to gratitude. Wasn't used to caring—not like this. Not outside of Star.
"It's okay." He turned back to the counter. "Just go sit in the living room. I'll make your dinner."
Safe nodded and shuffled toward the living room. His walk was still shaky, but better. Getting better.
Lucian watched him go.
Who are you? he asked silently. No one answered.
Looking after Safe for the past week had brought them closer. Too close, maybe. Safe reminded Lucian of his mother. The way she'd looked at him. The way she'd cared without expecting anything in return.
They'd been close. Perfect.
His phone rang.
"Boss… we have a problem," Lazarus said over the phone, his voice tight as he stood in the ruins of the warehouse.
The place was gutted—torn open like a carcass. Every crate of finished product was gone. Shelves lay splintered, packaging ripped apart and scattered across the floor.
Whoever hit them hadn't just stolen the goods.
They'd stripped the place clean—left nothing of value behind.