It's Payback Time, Mr. CEO

The door groaned as I entered, my footsteps echoing in the quiet apartment. I found Daniel pacing back and forth, his usual composure replaced with restless energy. His tie hung loosely around his neck, and his suit—normally impeccable—looked wrinkled and disordered, a rare sight for someone who prided himself on perfection. "Tracie," he said urgently as his eyes locked onto me, his voice tight with frustration. "It’s over. The Whitaker Corporation just pulled out of the deal." I paused in the doorway, slowly slipping off my heels and placing my purse on the table with deliberate care. "What? Why would they do that?" "I don’t know!" Daniel exclaimed, running a hand through his hair in sheer disbelief. "It was supposed to be finalized. I trusted them, Tracie." I moved closer, instinctively placing a hand on his arm in an attempt to calm him. "It might not be as bad as it sounds," I said, trying to offer comfort. "You’ve always managed to get through these things before. You’ll find a way." His eyes darkened, and his voice dropped. "No, I won’t," he muttered bitterly, a vulnerability I rarely saw creeping into his tone. "It’s all gone." "All gone?" I repeated, confusion lining my words. "The money," he said quietly, his gaze sinking to the floor. "I gambled away the funds from the insurance company. I thought I could double it, but..." His voice trailed off, and he collapsed onto the couch, his hands covering his face in defeat. "I was counting on Whitaker to pull us out, but now they’re gone. It’s over. My father is going to kill me if he finds out. He won’t trust me again." I blinked, holding back a sharp laugh. Of course, he had no idea. How could he? Because I was the one who had made sure Whitaker pulled out. I was the one who had been manipulating the situation for years, but now? This was the endgame. My revenge. For all the times he had deceived me, pretending I was everything to him when I was really just another pawn in his game. "Daniel," I said, keeping my voice level, "maybe it’s not as bad as you think." "It’s worse than you can imagine," he muttered, barely audible. Before I could respond, the door to the apartment swung open, and Eduard, Daniel’s secretary, burst in without knocking. His face was ashen with panic. "Mr. Eddy, there’s a mob outside the office," Eduard said, his voice trembling. "They’re demanding their payouts." Daniel’s eyes widened with shock. "What?" "They know we can’t pay them," Eduard continued, shooting a nervous glance at me before turning his attention back to Daniel. "The word’s out. Complaints are being filed. Lawsuits are coming." Daniel’s expression morphed instantly from disbelief to rage. "Dismiss them," he snapped. "Find a flaw in their contracts. Anything that can stop them from taking more than they’re owed." Eduard hesitated, clearly reluctant. "But, sir—" "I said, do it!" Daniel shouted, his fist crashing down onto the table, making the room vibrate. Ed quickly nodded and hurried out, leaving the two of us in a tense silence. The air seemed to thicken as Daniel continued to pace furiously. His muttering filled the room, his thoughts clearly racing. "This can’t be it... There has to be a way out..." Suddenly, his movements slowed, and he froze, his eyes snapping wide open. His face twisted into a smile as if he had just come up with a brilliant plan. "Oh, right," he murmured, as though an idea had just struck him. "The wedding..." He stopped abruptly, his gaze flickering nervously to me. I stood motionless, watching him closely. But instead of continuing, Daniel turned away, pulling out his phone and dialing without saying another word. As he paced away from me, his voice began to rise, speaking rapidly in Italian. I knew exactly what he was saying. "Move the wedding up," he barked into the phone. "This week. I need her money now. The company is crashing, and I can’t afford to wait any longer. She has to invest. Don’t worry about the details—just make it happen." I stood frozen in place, the words slicing through me like a chill wind. Every syllable felt like a betrayal. When he ended the call, Daniel slid his phone back into his pocket and turned toward me, his face carefully composed. "Sorry, sweetheart," he said with an almost casual air. "That was just a business partner. He doesn’t speak English, so I had to handle it in Italian." "Of course," I replied, my voice flat, betraying none of the turmoil I felt inside. Daniel didn’t seem to notice the detachment in my tone. He crossed the room to me, his hands finding their way to my shoulders in what he probably thought was a comforting gesture. "Look," he began, his voice lowering, "I know things are crazy right now. And I’m going to be swamped with work for the next few months. I don’t want you stuck here alone while I’m dealing with all this." I raised an eyebrow, trying to mask my suspicion. "What are you getting at?" He hesitated, as though weighing his words. "I think you should go to Costa Rica. Just for a little while. Take a break. Rest. You deserve it." "Costa Rica?" I repeated, the surprise evident in my voice. "Yeah," he said, his tone lightening with excitement. "I’ll take care of everything—flight, hotel, the works. You’ll love it. Once things settle down, I’ll bring you back. I promise." I stared at him, speechless for a long moment, completely stunned by the audacity of his suggestion. Finally, I broke the silence. "Why?" I asked, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "So you can plan your wedding in peace?"

"What did you say?" Daniel furrowed his brows, his expression filled with confusion. "Tracie, what are you talking about? There’s no other bride. It’s always been you. I’m just... I’m busy right now. Things are complicated. I can’t think about a wedding until all this is settled." I stood still, my face a mask of calm that barely concealed the storm brewing inside me. "Stop," I said firmly, shaking my head. "Enough with the lies, Daniel. I know everything. You really thought I wouldn’t figure it out? You thought I wouldn’t understand Italian?" The volume of my voice was high as I spoke. "You actually thought you could talk about marrying Ginger Massey to save your company, right in front of me?" His expression faltered. "Tracie, I—" "No," I cut him off, fury bubbling up. "I remember all of it. You and your friends, laughing at me. Thinking I wouldn’t catch on. Well, I did, Daniel. Every last word." He froze, trying to find the right words, his mouth opening and closing in silence. "Tracie, please... I’m sorry. I never meant for it to go down like this. But I didn’t have a choice." "No choice?" I repeated, disbelieving. "Explain that to me." Daniel ran a hand through his disheveled hair, a look of guilt washing over him. "I have to marry Ginger," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper, almost pleading. "It’s for the family. If I don’t, the company will fail. Can’t you see what that means? Eddy Insurance is the biggest healthcare provider in America. If I can’t fix this... if I can’t save it... everything will crumble. The business, my father’s legacy... everything." I crossed my arms, forcing myself to stay composed. "So, that’s it? You marry her, and I just sit on the sidelines, waiting?" "It’s not like that," he said quickly, his voice filled with desperation. "It’s not serious. It’s just an arrangement. Tracie, I still love you. You don’t understand the pressure I’m under." I took a slow breath, trying to push my emotions down. "What if I could help you?" Daniel blinked, shocked by my words, before—disgustingly—he laughed. "Help me?" he scoffed. "Tracie, this isn’t some little problem. Do you have any idea what this really means? This is beyond anything you can fix. You don’t have the resources. You don’t have anything." His words felt like a slap in the face, but I refused to let him see my hurt. I shrugged, forcing a cold, indifferent smile. "Fine, Daniel. Do what you have to do." Without another word, I turned and walked away, leaving him standing there, lost in his own mess. The bar was dimly lit, the low murmur of conversations blending with the clink of glasses. I sank into a corner booth, nursing my drink, trying to numb the ache in my chest. How had I let it get to this point? How had I given so much to someone so blind, so self-centered? I swirled the ice in my glass, the soft clinking filling the silence. The betrayal. The lies. The years I had wasted with him... Then, my phone buzzed. Expecting nothing more than a message or spam, I checked it—and my grip on the glass tightened. A wedding invitation. From Ginger Massey. My stomach churned as I opened it. The elegant script mocked me as I read. The wedding would be grand, lavish—everything her family could provide. And she had sent this to me directly. We all went to the same high school years ago. Ginger always had her sights on Daniel, but back then, he had chosen me. She’d hated that, lost to someone like me—someone they thought was nobody. But they didn’t know the truth of who I was. Now, she was shoving her victory in my face. She had finally claimed him, and she wanted me to see it. Anger surged through me, a fire that burned hot and wild. If they thought they could get away with this, I’d make sure their wedding was destroyed. I arrived at the wedding fashionably late, making sure to grab everyone’s attention the moment I walked in. "Is that a wedding dress?" someone whispered. "It can’t be," another voice murmured. "Wait... look at her neck! Is that... the Cartier necklace?" "The limited-edition one? There were only three made!" "The last time anyone saw it, the Lady of the Whitaker Clan was wearing it. Who is she?" "Sorry I’m late," I said, smoothly making my way to the front where Ginger and Daniel stood. I tilted my head slightly, meeting Ginger’s glare with a small, knowing smile. "Wouldn’t miss your big day for anything. Wishing you both the best." Ginger’s nostrils flared, her forced smile faltering. "You’re wearing white," she said sharply. "Only the bride wears white. Surely you know that?" I glanced down at my gown, feigning surprise. "Oh, did I? But white is such a lovely color, don’t you think?" "Lovely or not," she snapped, raising her voice so everyone could hear, "you’re out of place. Where did you even get that gown? That necklace?" She added, louder still, her words aimed to wound, "Let me guess—did you take out a loan for this stunt? Or is it a fake?" A few chuckles rang out from the crowd, her jab landing as intended. I smiled back, calm and unbothered. "You don’t know, do you?" I began, my voice cutting through the murmur of the room. "I am the daughter of the Whit—" Before I could finish, a loud gunshot rang out. The room went still. Laughter stopped. Silence consumed the space. Then, chaos. Screams erupted as people scrambled toward the exits, high heels clattering against marble floors. Daniel grabbed Ginger’s arm, dragging her away toward the hallway. He left. That was it. He just left. What a coward. With no other choice, I followed the frenzied crowd. The hallway was a disaster. Bodyguards lay sprawled across the floor, blood pooling beneath them. More screams echoed as more guests rushed to escape the madness. I hurried, my steps quickening as I tried to make sense of the chaos. Another explosion shook the building, the deafening blast sending debris flying. I stumbled, coughing through the dust, but managed to steady myself. The hallway ahead was blocked by rubble, forcing me to turn back. Then came another round of gunfire, closer this time. I crept forward, drawn by equal parts fear and curiosity. A door was slightly ajar, and I peered inside. A man in a hoodie stood in the center of the room, a gun in his hand. The scent of gunpowder still lingered. And there, on the floor, lay Penny Eddy—the CEO of Alliance Insurance and Daniel’s father. Blood pooled around him, staining the plush carpet. My heart skipped a beat, and as I turned to leave, footsteps sounded behind me. I slowly turned, and the sight that met my eyes made my heart freeze in my chest.

I saw him first—a man whose eyes were sharp and dangerous, his gaze locking onto mine. Before I could react, his hand shot out and gripped my arm, pulling me back. “Not so fast, young lady,” he said with a smirk, amusement in his voice. I screamed, panic rising in my chest. “Help! Somebody, help!” His laugh was cold and detached. “Scream all you want. No one's coming. After that explosion, everyone’s too busy running for their lives. You’re stuck with me now.” “What do you want from me?” I demanded, my voice trembling. “Are you going to kill me?” He raised an eyebrow. “Kill you? No. I need an alibi.” I felt my stomach twist in horror. “No. I won’t be a part of whatever this is!” “You think you have a choice?” He tightened his grip. “You saw too much. You're not leaving until I’m done with you.” Fury replaced my fear as I met his gaze. “Do you even know who I am? If you did, you’d think twice before using me.” His smirk deepened. “Miss Tracie Whitaker, Europe’s wealthiest heiress.” A cold shiver ran down my spine. How did he know? “I’ve had my eye on you for a while,” he said. “And now you’re mine.” Before I could reply, the door burst open, and a new figure entered—a lean man with a grim expression. “Boss, the elevator’s working. We need to move. The helicopter’s out, and the police are swarming.” Bobbie, so that was his name, nodded. “We’ll blend with the crowd. Stick to the plan.” He dragged me into the elevator, his men flanking us. As the doors shut, he leaned in close, his voice a quiet whisper. “Perfect crime. No one will ever tie me to this.” “You have a witness,” I spat. “Me.” His smirk didn’t falter. “Oh, but you wouldn’t risk your family’s reputation, would you, Miss Whitaker?” I stiffened, glaring at him. “Why did you kill Penny? What’s your real goal here?” He answered simply, “Justice. Do you know how many families he ruined with his scams? He got what he deserved.” “And that justifies murder?” I snapped. “There’s no justice in this world,” he said coldly. “Not for the poor, anyway.” The elevator doors opened to chaos. The lobby was a scene of frantic police officers, terrified guests running in every direction, and bloodied security guards sprawled across the floor. Bobbie tightened his grip on my arm as we navigated the madness. My mind raced, searching for a way out. Then I saw him—Daniel. He stood protectively by Ginger, his arm around her. Her face was pale, but when her eyes found me, her expression twisted into one of fury. “That’s her!” Ginger screamed, pointing at me. “She did this! She’s the one who killed Penny!” My mouth dropped open in shock. “What?” I gasped. “This is because Daniel left you, isn’t it?” Ginger sneered. “You couldn’t handle the rejection, so you killed his father!” I turned desperately to Daniel, my voice pleading. “You know me. I wouldn’t—” “I don’t know you,” Daniel said, his voice as cold as ice. “Not anymore.” I slapped him across the face, the sound echoing through the chaos. “You think I’m capable of murder?” I hissed. “Miss Tracie?” A police officer stepped forward. “We need you to come with us for questioning.” I froze. “I didn’t do this! It was him!” I pointed at Bobbie, who stood calmly beside me, his expression amused as he watched the scene unfold. The officer raised an eyebrow. “Him? That’s impossible. He’s Bobbie Howard.” “So what?” I shot back. “He’s a wealthy businessman, an Ivy League graduate, and an exceptional athlete,” the officer explained. “Why would someone like him have any reason to kill Penny Eddy?” “And I do?” I demanded, my voice rising with frustration. The officer didn’t flinch. “Yes, people like you always cause trouble. Now, come with us.” Ginger smirked, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “See? Look at her. She’s wearing stolen jewelry. There’s no way she could afford that.” “I’m not a thief!” I screamed, my voice shaking with fury. “I’m Tracie Whitaker, the daughter of Europe’s wealthiest family!” The room went silent for a moment before a ripple of laughter spread through the crowd. Bobbie leaned in close, his voice a mocking whisper. “See how quickly they judge? Do you understand what I mean now about justice?” I glared at him, anger and helplessness roiling inside me. “You did this,” I said, grinding my teeth. “No, babe,” he replied softly, his tone laced with mockery. “They did this to you because they think you’re poor.” His words sank in like a heavy weight, crushing any hope I had left. I was trapped, and no one would believe me.

The interrogation room felt like a prison—cold, stifling, and oppressive. I sat motionless in the metal chair, my wrists resting on the table as I refused to acknowledge the officers looming over me. "Miss Tracie," one officer said, his voice calm but firm. "Cooperate, and this will go much quicker. Tell us why you were near Penny Eddy's room." I kept my gaze fixed on the table, unwilling to give him an answer. "Miss Tracie," another officer urged, his tone growing impatient, "if you want this to end, you need to be honest with us." Finally, I lifted my eyes to meet his. "I want a lawyer," I said, my voice unwavering. One of the officers sighed, clearly frustrated. "We’ll get to that, but for now, you need to answer our questions." I leaned back in the chair, crossing my arms. "If you let me make a call—to my mother—you’ll get the answers you’re looking for. But you won’t, will you?" The officers exchanged a brief glance but remained silent. "I demand to call her," I insisted, my voice rising slightly. "If you do, you'll understand exactly who I am and the truth about everything." "Enough," one of the officers snapped, slamming his hand on the table. "You’re not calling anyone until we’re finished here." The door swung open, and Ginger entered with Daniel trailing behind her. Ginger’s eyes immediately landed on the jewelry I was wearing. "Take it off," she ordered, her voice as cold as ice. I raised an eyebrow. "What?" "The necklace," Ginger repeated, her finger pointing at it. "And the rest of the jewelry. You’re a thief, Tracie. You don’t deserve to wear them." I clenched my jaw in defiance. "These are mine." Ginger let out a laugh, as if the idea were absurd. "Yours? Don’t make me laugh. I’ll hold onto them until the real Lady Whitaker shows up. Let’s see how long you can keep pretending." "Ginger," Daniel said hesitantly, but she shot him a glare, silencing him instantly. She turned back to me with a sharp look. "Just because your last name is Whitaker doesn’t mean you’re part of the family. I’ve known you since college, Tracie. The Whitaker family doesn’t even have a daughter. Stop pretending." I bit my tongue, resisting the urge to argue. Of course, they didn’t know the truth about my family—my parents had never spoken of me publicly. It was a choice I made to protect myself, but now, seeing everything unfold, it felt like the time to reveal who I truly was. Ginger glanced at Daniel. "We should take the jewelry and return it to Lady Whitaker. Maybe she’ll reconsider the partnership." "That sounds like a good plan," Daniel agreed, his voice distant. I scoffed. "Your father’s dead, and all you care about is money?" I shook my head in disgust. "It almost makes me think you wanted him gone." "Shut up, Tracie," Ginger snapped, and for the first time, I could see the true malice in her eyes. The more I saw her, the more I loathed her—and Daniel too. He should’ve been the one who died. Ginger stepped closer to me, her eyes narrowing as she glared at the necklace around my neck. "Take it off," she demanded, pointing at the chain. "You don’t have the right to wear that." I raised an eyebrow and met her glare with one of my own. "I’m not giving you anything. It’s mine." "Yours?" Ginger let out a sarcastic laugh. "Stop lying. You stole it. Hand it over, or I’ll take it from you myself." She reached for the necklace, her fingers brushing the gold chain, but I quickly stepped back, swatting her hand away. "Don’t touch me," I snapped, my temper flaring. "You don’t deserve it!" Ginger hissed, her anger erupting as she lunged at me again. We struggled, her nails scraping against my neck as I pushed her hands away. The noise drew the attention of both the police officers and Daniel. "Enough!" A commanding voice rang out, silencing the chaos in an instant. Everyone turned toward the door, where a tall, poised woman stood—my mother.

“Lady Leanne,” Ginger said, her voice faltering as she stepped back. “You’re here… I didn’t expect you to come in person.” She pointed at me quickly. “This woman stole your jewelry. We're sure of it. You should punish her!” Leanne Whitaker’s eyes swept over the room, her expression unreadable as she looked at the jewelry, then back at Ginger. “Yes, that jewelry is mine,” she said calmly. Ginger smirked, satisfied, and turned to Daniel. “See? I told you. Anyway, Miss Whitaker, we’re here to return it and—” “So,” she said, cutting her off, “you must be the fiancée of that bastard who hurt my daughter.” Ginger’s face dropped. “What?” “You heard me,” Leanne said coolly. “Hurt. My. Daughter.” Ginger blinked rapidly, her mind racing to process the words. “Your… daughter?” she asked, her voice shaky as she slowly turned to me. Leanne gestured toward me with a graceful wave. “Yes. Tracie Whitaker, my daughter. Why else do you think she has my jewelry?" The room erupted in gasps. Ginger and Daniel turned to stare at me, their mouths open in shock. Daniel shook his head, his voice trembling. “How… How is that possible? No, I've known Tracie since high school and she's this poor---” I stood, meeting his disbelieving gaze. “Poor girl? Well, too bad, I wasn't the poor girl you thought. If only you believed me when I said it.” The police officers shifted uncomfortably, their authority shrinking under Leanne’s piercing glare. “We didn’t know, Lady Whitaker,” one officer stammered. “We—” “You’ll regret shaming my daughter like this,” Leanne said coldly. “Your department will hear from my lawyers. Tracie, let’s go.” I followed her out of the room, my mind still spinning. As we stepped outside, I spotted a car waiting by the curb. Leaning against it was Bobbie, a cigarette between his fingers. He looked calm, unbothered, and irritatingly handsome. His dark eyes flicked to mine, and a smirk tugged at his lips. “Mom,” I said, stopping in my tracks, “What is that man doing here? He’s the killer. He’s the one who killed Penny and I was almost framed for it!” Leanne glanced at him before looking back at me. A small, knowing smile curved her lips. “I know, Tracie,” she said softly. “And that man is also your fiancé.” “How is Bobbie my fiancé? He’s a killer. I saw him murder Penny Eddy. How could you allow this?” Leanne didn’t even flinch at my accusation. Before she could respond, Bobbie, leaning casually against the car, flicked his cigarette to the ground and stepped closer. “You saw me kill him?” he asked, his lips curving into an infuriating smirk. “Yes,” I snapped, standing my ground despite the way his presence unsettled me. “Why do you need to ask when you were there! Stop fooling me! I should even tell the police that—” He leaned in, his dark eyes locking onto mine. His voice dropped to a near whisper, teasing and dangerous. “If you don’t stop saying I killed him,” he said, his breath warm against my ear, “I’m going to kiss you.” My breath hitched, and my face burned with anger and embarrassment. “You wouldn’t dare,” I muttered, taking a step back. His smirk deepened, but he didn’t say anything else. I turned sharply to my mother, my frustration spilling over. “I need an explanation about what’s going on. Now.” Leanne, unbothered by the tension, gestured toward the waiting car. “You’ll have all your answers when we get back to the estate.” The ride to the Whitaker estate was silent, but my mind wasn’t. It had been years since I’d set foot on the sprawling property, but the moment we arrived, memories came rushing back. The grand gates opened, revealing manicured gardens and the imposing mansion at the center. The fountain in the courtyard still sparkled under the sun, just as I remembered. As I stepped out of the car, my chest tightened. The scent of blooming flowers brought back flashes of my childhood—running through these very gardens, carefree and innocent. But those memories felt distant now, almost foreign. I walked through the front doors, my heels clicking against the polished marble floors. Everything was as it had been years ago, yet it felt different. The warmth I once associated with this place was replaced by an uneasy chill. My mother’s voice broke through my thoughts. “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?” I turned to her, my jaw clenched. “Stop avoiding the question. Why did you allow Bobbie—a mafia boss and murderer—into this family? And why, of all people, would you arrange for me to marry him?” Leanne’s expression didn’t falter. She walked slowly to the grand sitting room, gesturing for me to follow. I did, the tension between us building with each step. When we reached the room, she turned to me, her face calm but her voice firm. “If Bobbie is a murderer,” she said, her eyes piercing mine, “then are you also calling us murderers?”

“You’re calling us murderers?” my mother repeated, her voice calm yet laced with an edge that sent chills down my spine. I stared at her, confused and uneasy. “Why would you say that?” I was confused. All of a sudden, I felt like I didn’t know my mother or perhaps my family. Was it because I was away for long? “What does this have to do with Bobbie or anything else?” Leanne’s lips curled into a faint, knowing smile. “It’s time you knew the truth, Tracie. Our wealth didn’t just come from clean business dealings. The Whitaker family doesn’t just sit at the top because we’re rich. We’ve built an empire—above and below ground. What you call illegal, we call it ours, too.” I blinked, her words sinking in like stones dropping into water. “You’re saying… we run something underground? Like… the mafia?” I shook my head. That would be impossible. I waited for my mother to say it was a joke but—Leanne crossed her arms, nodding slightly. “Our wealth is both a shield and a weapon. Everything you’ve known—the grand estates, the name that commands respect—it’s built on more than just what’s visible to the public. That’s the Whitaker legacy, Tracie. It’s been a family secret for generations.” Shock coursed through me. “How could I not know about this?” I demanded. “You’ve kept this from me my entire life!” “We wanted to protect you,” she said simply. “You were our only child, and the world we operate in isn’t forgiving. When you asked to leave and live independently, we allowed it. To keep you safe, we told the world we didn’t have a daughter. It worked. No one came after you.” Her words hit me like a punch. I’d spent years trying to prove myself, to live outside the shadow of my family, only to learn now that my freedom had been nothing more than an illusion. “So why tell me now?” I asked, my voice trembling. “You’re making me regret coming back.” My headache. It felt like I’m going to vomit from too much information. “Because the time has come for you to return,” she said firmly. “You’re a Whitaker. You need to take your place and manage the family. We have allowed you to be independent, fall in love and get broken, but now, you need to do what we say from now on.” I took a step back, shaking my head. “No,” I said, my voice rising. “I can’t be part of this. Whatever you’re doing, it’s illegal. I won’t be dragged into it.” Leanne’s expression didn’t change. “There’s no way out, Tracie. You can’t separate yourself from this family. What will you do if you walk away? Tell the world about our dealings? Expose us?” Her question hung in the air like a heavy weight. Yes, what am I going to do? I can’t just tell the police about it—and it’s not like that. I cursed. I exhaled slowly, my anger deflating into exhaustion. “I won’t do that,” I said quietly. “But… everything feels like a blur right now. I’m overwhelmed. I need time to process all of this.” Leanne’s sharp gaze softened just slightly. “Take the night to rest,” she said. “But remember—this is your reality now.” She left the room, the sound of her heels echoing down the hall. I sat down on the edge of the bed, staring at the ornate decor surrounding me. Everything about this room—the luxurious silk curtains, the grand chandelier, the vintage furniture—felt foreign. Lying back on the bed, I tried to clear my head, but the weight of everything my mother had just told me pressed down on my chest. The family I thought I knew didn’t exist. We’re a mafia group. “Oh, god,” I whispered to myself. “What am I going to do now?” I couldn’t sleep so I grabbed the remote and turned on the television, hoping for a distraction. But the screen lit up with headlines that made my stomach drop. “BREAKING NEWS: Tracie Whitaker Confirmed as the Only Daughter of the Whitaker Family Empire.” “Europe’s Wealthiest Family’s Hidden Heiress Revealed.” “Tracie Whitaker’s Shocking Return Sparks Speculation About the Whitaker Legacy.” Pictures of me flashed on the screen—walking into the police station, standing beside my mother, even old photographs from my childhood. I sat up, my heart pounding. This wasn’t good. Not good at all. They knew who I was now. Everyone knew. And there was no turning back.