The illustrious Mr. Andres White suddenly receives some shocking news: he got hitched a year ago—without even knowing it! He fires off a divorce petition and drags his completely unfamiliar "wife" straight to the courthouse to get the marriage dissolved. But on the very day of their divorce, two bolts of lightning strike. First strike: their marriage certificate goes up in smoke! Second strike: the entire divorce registration system crashes! Unable to divorce, they're forced to cohabit. Then one day, Andres uncovers a secret... well, actually, multiple secrets. The Shadow Healer he's been desperately searching for? His own wife! The hacker ZERO he wanted to hire at a sky-high price? His own wife! The top-tier diviner in the mystical arts community? His own wife! The legendary combat master? His own wife! The medical prodigy who has repeatedly brought honor to the nation? Still his own wife! Andres posts online. "My wife has too many hidden identities for me to keep count! How do I deal with this situation?"

Chapter 1Maeve Vance lay on an exam table crowded with monitors and tubing, the cold bite of metal against her back. Somewhere near her head, a man and a woman were talking—close enough that their voices slid right into her ear.The man chuckled. "The Morales family's ‘oldest daughter' really drew the short straw. Comes in from the sticks looking for her ‘real family,' and her dear old dad's already lining her up to have a kidney taken out. Shame. Pretty face, too.""Lower your voice," the woman warned. "She doesn't even know they're taking a kidney.""So what?" he scoffed. "We gave her enough anesthetic to keep her out until the whole thing's done. The match results come back yet?""They did," she said. "Close enough for transplant. Mr. Morales is getting worse—we can't stall. Surgery's set for seven tonight."The man lifted Maeve's T-shirt, his fingertips drifting over the curve of her waist like he had all the time in the world."Putting a scalpel to skin this smooth… almost feels criminal."When he started to lean in for more, Maeve's eyes snapped open.The air changed—sharp, lethal.The woman went white. "She's awake! Quick, start an IV push!"The man snatched up the syringe and lunged forward.Maeve's hand flashed.A slap cracked through the room. The syringe flew, clattering across the floor."You think you get to touch me," Maeve said, voice like ice, "with hands that filthy?"He didn't even have time to breathe before she was off the table. She stepped in hard, lifted a long leg, and drove her heel straight into his chest.He went airborne like a rag doll and hit the wall with a wet sound, blood bursting from his mouth.The woman bolted for the door.She hadn't even wrapped her fingers around the handle when her whole body seized—numbness blooming instantly from the back of her neck. Something thin and vicious had pricked her skin.She turned, eyes wide.Maeve stood there lazily twirling a sleek, unusual pen between her fingers.The needle had come from inside it."Y—"That was all she managed before her knees buckled and she dropped, unconscious, to the floor.The man trembled where he lay, panic shining in his eyes. "D-don't come closer. We were paid. We were just doing what we were told."Maeve smiled without warmth. "Cutting people open and stealing organs without consent? Doctor, your career's over."She didn't wait for him to beg.She picked up the anesthetic meant for her and returned it to sender—straight into his arm.When both of them were out cold, Maeve brushed at her shirt as if dust had dared to land there.A white lab coat hung on a rack nearby. She slipped it on with unhurried precision, looped a mask over her face, and eased the door open.Then she walked out like she belonged.No one stopped her.No one even looked twice.Those two idiots thought they'd slipped something into her system when they drew blood for a DNA test.They didn't know she'd been ready for them.A few days earlier, a man had shown up on her doorstep claiming to be her father—saying she was the Morales family's long-lost child.His name was Luka Morales, a well-known name in Aethelburg's restaurant scene. Publicly, he played the role perfectly: the remorseful father, heartbroken to learn his daughter had struggled in a rural nowhere with his ex-wife. He wanted to make up for lost time, he said. He wanted to "do right by her."There was just one condition.Maeve needed to come to a private hospital for a paternity test.Maeve didn't crave a stranger's love. But she was curious. Men didn't suddenly grow consciences like that unless there was something rotting underneath.So she went along with it.Let them think they were running the show.And of course—it hadn't been simple.Luka hadn't come looking for a daughter.He'd come looking for a kidney.A spare part to keep alive the precious son he'd had with his new wife—the heir the Morales family had pinned all their hopes on.Fine.Maeve lived by a simple rule: "I don't start trouble. But if you come for me, I finish it."If the Morales family wanted to carve her up, she'd make sure they received a gift in return—one they'd never forget.At the same time, on the top floor of the Grand Horizon Hotel, a contract signing was underway.The White family—old money with a century of history—held a position in Aethelburg that other elites didn't even pretend to challenge.The head of the White family, Andres White, wasn't old, but he'd already become a legend. In public, people simply called him Mr. Andres.The one lucky enough to sign with the Whites tonight was Anya Morales—a rich-girl prodigy and the newest darling of the hacker world. Her cybersecurity system had won an award not long ago, and in Aethelburg her name had been everywhere.Andres liked talent. He'd reserved her before she'd even finished school.At the signing, Andres had only his closest security and an assistant present. Anya's parents, of course, were there too—beaming like they'd just been crowned."My Anya will be in your care from here on out, Mr. Andres," Luka Morales said, practically glowing.Finally—an in with the White family. He was so thrilled he'd temporarily forgotten the son waiting in a hospital bed for a transplant.Mrs. Morales—Isla—had once been a top-tier celebrity, the kind of woman who'd owned red carpets. She smiled sweetly and praised her daughter. "With Anya's system running the Grand Horizon, you'll be able to sleep easy, Mr. Andres."Andres gave them the polite minimum. "You're too kind."Anya stole glances at him over the table.He was devastatingly handsome, but it wasn't just that. There was a controlled, untouchable air about him—nothing like the spoiled trust-fund boys she'd grown up around.Becoming Mrs. White had been her ultimate dream for as long as she could remember.The room was warm with laughter when the lights began to flicker.Isla frowned. "What's going on?"A dozen bodyguards moved at once—silent, coordinated, appearing from different positions like they'd been hiding in the walls. In seconds, Andres was surrounded by a human shield.The Morales family barely had time to blink.Then—bang.A crystal chandelier worth more than most houses exploded overhead.The blast triggered the fire suppression system. The ceiling sprinklers kicked on, dumping water in hard, cold sheets.One guard snapped open a black umbrella over Andres with lightning speed, keeping even a drop from touching him.Andres sat back in his chair like a king on a throne, calm and unreadable, not a flicker of surprise crossing his face.Isla shrieked, voice climbing an octave. "Is there a fire?!"Anya forced a steady tone. "Mom. Calm down. Don't forget whose building this is."The Grand Horizon belonged to the Whites. And just hours ago, it had officially gone live with Anya's award-winning security system.So much for perfect timing.A guard shut off the alarm. The sprinklers slowed, then stopped, water dripping from the ceiling in reluctant taps. The umbrella disappeared as neatly as it had appeared.Then the door opened.Maeve walked in without asking.She wore a black baseball cap pulled low, but she was tall, lean, and striking—pretty in a way that didn't need permission. Even with half her face hidden, she had the kind of beauty that made people look twice and resent themselves for it.When Andres got a clear look at her, something sharp moved in his eyes.Her?His security shifted, ready to intercept.Andres lifted a hand—silent command. Watch. Wait.He wanted to see what game she thought she was playing.Maeve flicked a glance at him, then dismissed him entirely, as if he were furniture.Luka was the first to find his voice. "Maeve, what are you doing here?"At this hour, she should've been at the private hospital getting checked for compatibility.Maeve tossed a test report onto the table."You said if I proved we're father and daughter, you'd give me half the Morales fortune." Her voice was light, almost pleasant. "The DNA results are right there. So—are you paying up, or do I need to ask again?"Isla snatched the report and tore it clean in half. "You think you can walk in here with a fake piece of paper and steal my family's money? Dream on."Maeve smiled. "I made copies."Luka's jaw tightened. "What do you want?"His face stayed controlled, but fear leaked through his eyes in thin, ugly cracks. Had something gone wrong at the hospital?Maeve saw the panic—and deliberately didn't mention the operating room."The Morales empire in the food world," she said, "was built on recipes my mother left behind before the divorce.""She didn't fight you because the betrayal broke her. But I'm not letting her swallow that humiliation and call it dinner.""The conservative estimate puts the Morales family at four billion." She shrugged. "I'm not greedy. You've got three days. Transfer two billion to my account."Anya's composure snapped. "Maeve, don't push your luck. My dad only helped you because you were pathetic out there in the middle of nowhere. Without that charity, you wouldn't even be qualified to step into the Morales house."Maeve looked her up and down. "And you are…?"Anya lifted her chin. "The legitimate Morales heiress."Maeve's expression brightened in exaggerated realization. "Oh. You're the clown who won an award with a security system and started calling herself a genius."Anya's eyes went red. "Who are you calling a clown?"Maeve tipped her chin toward the chaos overhead. "A real genius doesn't become a public joke in her own showcase."Anya's temper flared. She swung a hand to slap Maeve.Maeve turned her head, letting the strike cut through empty air—then brought her own hand back across Anya's face.The sound was sharp enough to silence the room.Anya clutched her cheek, stunned. "You hit me?!"Maeve flexed her fingers as if she'd stung her own palm. "You don't get to start it and then cry when I finish it."Isla erupted. "You illegitimate little bitch—how dare you lay hands on my daughter!"That word hit Maeve like a match to gasoline.She grabbed a glass of red wine off the table and threw it straight into Isla's face."If my mother hadn't stepped aside for you," Maeve said, voice low and vicious, "the kids you had by seducing a married man would be the ones with the ‘illegitimate bitch' label."Wine streamed down Isla's carefully maintained makeup, staining her like a bruise.Maeve had never been the kind of woman people could knead into shape.If the Morales family wanted to scheme against her, they could choke on the consequences.Luka surged to his feet, furious. "Maeve! What the hell are you doing, putting your hands on people in public? Do you have any respect for the law?"Maeve's smile turned razor-thin. "The law? Explain it to me."Isla wiped at her face, shaking with rage. "Making trouble on Mr. Andres's turf? You'll leave here in a body bag."Maeve turned to Andres. "Is that true?"Andres didn't move. "Try it and see."Maeve spotted a decorative baseball bat propped in a corner—some ridiculous luxury-sports décor. She weighed it in her hand, testing the balance.Then, under a roomful of disbelieving stares, she went to work.She smashed every piece of décor she could reach—glass, sculpture, framed art—reducing the elegant private dining room into a wrecked set. Her movements were fast, fluid, almost beautiful in their violence.When she finished, she tossed the bat aside and said calmly, "I tried."Andres stared.So did every guard and assistant around him.Chapter 2Maeve Vance lay on an exam table crowded with monitors and tubing, the cold bite of metal against her back. Somewhere near her head, a man and a woman were talking—close enough that their voices slid right into her ear.The man chuckled. "The Morales family's ‘oldest daughter' really drew the short straw. Comes in from the sticks looking for her ‘real family,' and her dear old dad's already lining her up to have a kidney taken out. Shame. Pretty face, too.""Lower your voice," the woman warned. "She doesn't even know they're taking a kidney.""So what?" he scoffed. "We gave her enough anesthetic to keep her out until the whole thing's done. The match results come back yet?""They did," she said. "Close enough for transplant. Mr. Morales is getting worse—we can't stall. Surgery's set for seven tonight."The man lifted Maeve's T-shirt, his fingertips drifting over the curve of her waist like he had all the time in the world."Putting a scalpel to skin this smooth… almost feels criminal."When he started to lean in for more, Maeve's eyes snapped open.The air changed—sharp, lethal.The woman went white. "She's awake! Quick, start an IV push!"The man snatched up the syringe and lunged forward.Maeve's hand flashed.A slap cracked through the room. The syringe flew, clattering across the floor."You think you get to touch me," Maeve said, voice like ice, "with hands that filthy?"He didn't even have time to breathe before she was off the table. She stepped in hard, lifted a long leg, and drove her heel straight into his chest.He went airborne like a rag doll and hit the wall with a wet sound, blood bursting from his mouth.The woman bolted for the door.She hadn't even wrapped her fingers around the handle when her whole body seized—numbness blooming instantly from the back of her neck. Something thin and vicious had pricked her skin.She turned, eyes wide.Maeve stood there lazily twirling a sleek, unusual pen between her fingers.The needle had come from inside it."Y—"That was all she managed before her knees buckled and she dropped, unconscious, to the floor.The man trembled where he lay, panic shining in his eyes. "D-don't come closer. We were paid. We were just doing what we were told."Maeve smiled without warmth. "Cutting people open and stealing organs without consent? Doctor, your career's over."She didn't wait for him to beg.She picked up the anesthetic meant for her and returned it to sender—straight into his arm.When both of them were out cold, Maeve brushed at her shirt as if dust had dared to land there.A white lab coat hung on a rack nearby. She slipped it on with unhurried precision, looped a mask over her face, and eased the door open.Then she walked out like she belonged.No one stopped her.No one even looked twice.Those two idiots thought they'd slipped something into her system when they drew blood for a DNA test.They didn't know she'd been ready for them.A few days earlier, a man had shown up on her doorstep claiming to be her father—saying she was the Morales family's long-lost child.His name was Luka Morales, a well-known name in Aethelburg's restaurant scene. Publicly, he played the role perfectly: the remorseful father, heartbroken to learn his daughter had struggled in a rural nowhere with his ex-wife. He wanted to make up for lost time, he said. He wanted to "do right by her."There was just one condition.Maeve needed to come to a private hospital for a paternity test.Maeve didn't crave a stranger's love. But she was curious. Men didn't suddenly grow consciences like that unless there was something rotting underneath.So she went along with it.Let them think they were running the show.And of course—it hadn't been simple.Luka hadn't come looking for a daughter.He'd come looking for a kidney.A spare part to keep alive the precious son he'd had with his new wife—the heir the Morales family had pinned all their hopes on.Fine.Maeve lived by a simple rule: "I don't start trouble. But if you come for me, I finish it."If the Morales family wanted to carve her up, she'd make sure they received a gift in return—one they'd never forget.At the same time, on the top floor of the Grand Horizon Hotel, a contract signing was underway.The White family—old money with a century of history—held a position in Aethelburg that other elites didn't even pretend to challenge.The head of the White family, Andres White, wasn't old, but he'd already become a legend. In public, people simply called him Mr. Andres.The one lucky enough to sign with the Whites tonight was Anya Morales—a rich-girl prodigy and the newest darling of the hacker world. Her cybersecurity system had won an award not long ago, and in Aethelburg her name had been everywhere.Andres liked talent. He'd reserved her before she'd even finished school.At the signing, Andres had only his closest security and an assistant present. Anya's parents, of course, were there too—beaming like they'd just been crowned."My Anya will be in your care from here on out, Mr. Andres," Luka Morales said, practically glowing.Finally—an in with the White family. He was so thrilled he'd temporarily forgotten the son waiting in a hospital bed for a transplant.Mrs. Morales—Isla—had once been a top-tier celebrity, the kind of woman who'd owned red carpets. She smiled sweetly and praised her daughter. "With Anya's system running the Grand Horizon, you'll be able to sleep easy, Mr. Andres."Andres gave them the polite minimum. "You're too kind."Anya stole glances at him over the table.He was devastatingly handsome, but it wasn't just that. There was a controlled, untouchable air about him—nothing like the spoiled trust-fund boys she'd grown up around.Becoming Mrs. White had been her ultimate dream for as long as she could remember.The room was warm with laughter when the lights began to flicker.Isla frowned. "What's going on?"A dozen bodyguards moved at once—silent, coordinated, appearing from different positions like they'd been hiding in the walls. In seconds, Andres was surrounded by a human shield.The Morales family barely had time to blink.Then—bang.A crystal chandelier worth more than most houses exploded overhead.The blast triggered the fire suppression system. The ceiling sprinklers kicked on, dumping water in hard, cold sheets.One guard snapped open a black umbrella over Andres with lightning speed, keeping even a drop from touching him.Andres sat back in his chair like a king on a throne, calm and unreadable, not a flicker of surprise crossing his face.Isla shrieked, voice climbing an octave. "Is there a fire?!"Anya forced a steady tone. "Mom. Calm down. Don't forget whose building this is."The Grand Horizon belonged to the Whites. And just hours ago, it had officially gone live with Anya's award-winning security system.So much for perfect timing.A guard shut off the alarm. The sprinklers slowed, then stopped, water dripping from the ceiling in reluctant taps. The umbrella disappeared as neatly as it had appeared.Then the door opened.Maeve walked in without asking.She wore a black baseball cap pulled low, but she was tall, lean, and striking—pretty in a way that didn't need permission. Even with half her face hidden, she had the kind of beauty that made people look twice and resent themselves for it.When Andres got a clear look at her, something sharp moved in his eyes.Her?His security shifted, ready to intercept.Andres lifted a hand—silent command. Watch. Wait.He wanted to see what game she thought she was playing.Maeve flicked a glance at him, then dismissed him entirely, as if he were furniture.Luka was the first to find his voice. "Maeve, what are you doing here?"At this hour, she should've been at the private hospital getting checked for compatibility.Maeve tossed a test report onto the table."You said if I proved we're father and daughter, you'd give me half the Morales fortune." Her voice was light, almost pleasant. "The DNA results are right there. So—are you paying up, or do I need to ask again?"Isla snatched the report and tore it clean in half. "You think you can walk in here with a fake piece of paper and steal my family's money? Dream on."Maeve smiled. "I made copies."Luka's jaw tightened. "What do you want?"His face stayed controlled, but fear leaked through his eyes in thin, ugly cracks. Had something gone wrong at the hospital?Maeve saw the panic—and deliberately didn't mention the operating room."The Morales empire in the food world," she said, "was built on recipes my mother left behind before the divorce.""She didn't fight you because the betrayal broke her. But I'm not letting her swallow that humiliation and call it dinner.""The conservative estimate puts the Morales family at four billion." She shrugged. "I'm not greedy. You've got three days. Transfer two billion to my account."Anya's composure snapped. "Maeve, don't push your luck. My dad only helped you because you were pathetic out there in the middle of nowhere. Without that charity, you wouldn't even be qualified to step into the Morales house."Maeve looked her up and down. "And you are…?"Anya lifted her chin. "The legitimate Morales heiress."Maeve's expression brightened in exaggerated realization. "Oh. You're the clown who won an award with a security system and started calling herself a genius."Anya's eyes went red. "Who are you calling a clown?"Maeve tipped her chin toward the chaos overhead. "A real genius doesn't become a public joke in her own showcase."Anya's temper flared. She swung a hand to slap Maeve.Maeve turned her head, letting the strike cut through empty air—then brought her own hand back across Anya's face.The sound was sharp enough to silence the room.Anya clutched her cheek, stunned. "You hit me?!"Maeve flexed her fingers as if she'd stung her own palm. "You don't get to start it and then cry when I finish it."Isla erupted. "You illegitimate little bitch—how dare you lay hands on my daughter!"That word hit Maeve like a match to gasoline.She grabbed a glass of red wine off the table and threw it straight into Isla's face."If my mother hadn't stepped aside for you," Maeve said, voice low and vicious, "the kids you had by seducing a married man would be the ones with the ‘illegitimate bitch' label."Wine streamed down Isla's carefully maintained makeup, staining her like a bruise.Maeve had never been the kind of woman people could knead into shape.If the Morales family wanted to scheme against her, they could choke on the consequences.Luka surged to his feet, furious. "Maeve! What the hell are you doing, putting your hands on people in public? Do you have any respect for the law?"Maeve's smile turned razor-thin. "The law? Explain it to me."Isla wiped at her face, shaking with rage. "Making trouble on Mr. Andres's turf? You'll leave here in a body bag."Maeve turned to Andres. "Is that true?"Andres didn't move. "Try it and see."Maeve spotted a decorative baseball bat propped in a corner—some ridiculous luxury-sports décor. She weighed it in her hand, testing the balance.Then, under a roomful of disbelieving stares, she went to work.She smashed every piece of décor she could reach—glass, sculpture, framed art—reducing the elegant private dining room into a wrecked set. Her movements were fast, fluid, almost beautiful in their violence.When she finished, she tossed the bat aside and said calmly, "I tried."Andres stared.So did every guard and assistant around him.Chapter 3Maeve Vance lay on an exam table crowded with monitors and tubing, the cold bite of metal against her back. Somewhere near her head, a man and a woman were talking—close enough that their voices slid right into her ear.The man chuckled. "The Morales family's ‘oldest daughter' really drew the short straw. Comes in from the sticks looking for her ‘real family,' and her dear old dad's already lining her up to have a kidney taken out. Shame. Pretty face, too.""Lower your voice," the woman warned. "She doesn't even know they're taking a kidney.""So what?" he scoffed. "We gave her enough anesthetic to keep her out until the whole thing's done. The match results come back yet?""They did," she said. "Close enough for transplant. Mr. Morales is getting worse—we can't stall. Surgery's set for seven tonight."The man lifted Maeve's T-shirt, his fingertips drifting over the curve of her waist like he had all the time in the world."Putting a scalpel to skin this smooth… almost feels criminal."When he started to lean in for more, Maeve's eyes snapped open.The air changed—sharp, lethal.The woman went white. "She's awake! Quick, start an IV push!"The man snatched up the syringe and lunged forward.Maeve's hand flashed.A slap cracked through the room. The syringe flew, clattering across the floor."You think you get to touch me," Maeve said, voice like ice, "with hands that filthy?"He didn't even have time to breathe before she was off the table. She stepped in hard, lifted a long leg, and drove her heel straight into his chest.He went airborne like a rag doll and hit the wall with a wet sound, blood bursting from his mouth.The woman bolted for the door.She hadn't even wrapped her fingers around the handle when her whole body seized—numbness blooming instantly from the back of her neck. Something thin and vicious had pricked her skin.She turned, eyes wide.Maeve stood there lazily twirling a sleek, unusual pen between her fingers.The needle had come from inside it."Y—"That was all she managed before her knees buckled and she dropped, unconscious, to the floor.The man trembled where he lay, panic shining in his eyes. "D-don't come closer. We were paid. We were just doing what we were told."Maeve smiled without warmth. "Cutting people open and stealing organs without consent? Doctor, your career's over."She didn't wait for him to beg.She picked up the anesthetic meant for her and returned it to sender—straight into his arm.When both of them were out cold, Maeve brushed at her shirt as if dust had dared to land there.A white lab coat hung on a rack nearby. She slipped it on with unhurried precision, looped a mask over her face, and eased the door open.Then she walked out like she belonged.No one stopped her.No one even looked twice.Those two idiots thought they'd slipped something into her system when they drew blood for a DNA test.They didn't know she'd been ready for them.A few days earlier, a man had shown up on her doorstep claiming to be her father—saying she was the Morales family's long-lost child.His name was Luka Morales, a well-known name in Aethelburg's restaurant scene. Publicly, he played the role perfectly: the remorseful father, heartbroken to learn his daughter had struggled in a rural nowhere with his ex-wife. He wanted to make up for lost time, he said. He wanted to "do right by her."There was just one condition.Maeve needed to come to a private hospital for a paternity test.Maeve didn't crave a stranger's love. But she was curious. Men didn't suddenly grow consciences like that unless there was something rotting underneath.So she went along with it.Let them think they were running the show.And of course—it hadn't been simple.Luka hadn't come looking for a daughter.He'd come looking for a kidney.A spare part to keep alive the precious son he'd had with his new wife—the heir the Morales family had pinned all their hopes on.Fine.Maeve lived by a simple rule: "I don't start trouble. But if you come for me, I finish it."If the Morales family wanted to carve her up, she'd make sure they received a gift in return—one they'd never forget.At the same time, on the top floor of the Grand Horizon Hotel, a contract signing was underway.The White family—old money with a century of history—held a position in Aethelburg that other elites didn't even pretend to challenge.The head of the White family, Andres White, wasn't old, but he'd already become a legend. In public, people simply called him Mr. Andres.The one lucky enough to sign with the Whites tonight was Anya Morales—a rich-girl prodigy and the newest darling of the hacker world. Her cybersecurity system had won an award not long ago, and in Aethelburg her name had been everywhere.Andres liked talent. He'd reserved her before she'd even finished school.At the signing, Andres had only his closest security and an assistant present. Anya's parents, of course, were there too—beaming like they'd just been crowned."My Anya will be in your care from here on out, Mr. Andres," Luka Morales said, practically glowing.Finally—an in with the White family. He was so thrilled he'd temporarily forgotten the son waiting in a hospital bed for a transplant.Mrs. Morales—Isla—had once been a top-tier celebrity, the kind of woman who'd owned red carpets. She smiled sweetly and praised her daughter. "With Anya's system running the Grand Horizon, you'll be able to sleep easy, Mr. Andres."Andres gave them the polite minimum. "You're too kind."Anya stole glances at him over the table.He was devastatingly handsome, but it wasn't just that. There was a controlled, untouchable air about him—nothing like the spoiled trust-fund boys she'd grown up around.Becoming Mrs. White had been her ultimate dream for as long as she could remember.The room was warm with laughter when the lights began to flicker.Isla frowned. "What's going on?"A dozen bodyguards moved at once—silent, coordinated, appearing from different positions like they'd been hiding in the walls. In seconds, Andres was surrounded by a human shield.The Morales family barely had time to blink.Then—bang.A crystal chandelier worth more than most houses exploded overhead.The blast triggered the fire suppression system. The ceiling sprinklers kicked on, dumping water in hard, cold sheets.One guard snapped open a black umbrella over Andres with lightning speed, keeping even a drop from touching him.Andres sat back in his chair like a king on a throne, calm and unreadable, not a flicker of surprise crossing his face.Isla shrieked, voice climbing an octave. "Is there a fire?!"Anya forced a steady tone. "Mom. Calm down. Don't forget whose building this is."The Grand Horizon belonged to the Whites. And just hours ago, it had officially gone live with Anya's award-winning security system.So much for perfect timing.A guard shut off the alarm. The sprinklers slowed, then stopped, water dripping from the ceiling in reluctant taps. The umbrella disappeared as neatly as it had appeared.Then the door opened.Maeve walked in without asking.She wore a black baseball cap pulled low, but she was tall, lean, and striking—pretty in a way that didn't need permission. Even with half her face hidden, she had the kind of beauty that made people look twice and resent themselves for it.When Andres got a clear look at her, something sharp moved in his eyes.Her?His security shifted, ready to intercept.Andres lifted a hand—silent command. Watch. Wait.He wanted to see what game she thought she was playing.Maeve flicked a glance at him, then dismissed him entirely, as if he were furniture.Luka was the first to find his voice. "Maeve, what are you doing here?"At this hour, she should've been at the private hospital getting checked for compatibility.Maeve tossed a test report onto the table."You said if I proved we're father and daughter, you'd give me half the Morales fortune." Her voice was light, almost pleasant. "The DNA results are right there. So—are you paying up, or do I need to ask again?"Isla snatched the report and tore it clean in half. "You think you can walk in here with a fake piece of paper and steal my family's money? Dream on."Maeve smiled. "I made copies."Luka's jaw tightened. "What do you want?"His face stayed controlled, but fear leaked through his eyes in thin, ugly cracks. Had something gone wrong at the hospital?Maeve saw the panic—and deliberately didn't mention the operating room."The Morales empire in the food world," she said, "was built on recipes my mother left behind before the divorce.""She didn't fight you because the betrayal broke her. But I'm not letting her swallow that humiliation and call it dinner.""The conservative estimate puts the Morales family at four billion." She shrugged. "I'm not greedy. You've got three days. Transfer two billion to my account."Anya's composure snapped. "Maeve, don't push your luck. My dad only helped you because you were pathetic out there in the middle of nowhere. Without that charity, you wouldn't even be qualified to step into the Morales house."Maeve looked her up and down. "And you are…?"Anya lifted her chin. "The legitimate Morales heiress."Maeve's expression brightened in exaggerated realization. "Oh. You're the clown who won an award with a security system and started calling herself a genius."Anya's eyes went red. "Who are you calling a clown?"Maeve tipped her chin toward the chaos overhead. "A real genius doesn't become a public joke in her own showcase."Anya's temper flared. She swung a hand to slap Maeve.Maeve turned her head, letting the strike cut through empty air—then brought her own hand back across Anya's face.The sound was sharp enough to silence the room.Anya clutched her cheek, stunned. "You hit me?!"Maeve flexed her fingers as if she'd stung her own palm. "You don't get to start it and then cry when I finish it."Isla erupted. "You illegitimate little bitch—how dare you lay hands on my daughter!"That word hit Maeve like a match to gasoline.She grabbed a glass of red wine off the table and threw it straight into Isla's face."If my mother hadn't stepped aside for you," Maeve said, voice low and vicious, "the kids you had by seducing a married man would be the ones with the ‘illegitimate bitch' label."Wine streamed down Isla's carefully maintained makeup, staining her like a bruise.Maeve had never been the kind of woman people could knead into shape.If the Morales family wanted to scheme against her, they could choke on the consequences.Luka surged to his feet, furious. "Maeve! What the hell are you doing, putting your hands on people in public? Do you have any respect for the law?"Maeve's smile turned razor-thin. "The law? Explain it to me."Isla wiped at her face, shaking with rage. "Making trouble on Mr. Andres's turf? You'll leave here in a body bag."Maeve turned to Andres. "Is that true?"Andres didn't move. "Try it and see."Maeve spotted a decorative baseball bat propped in a corner—some ridiculous luxury-sports décor. She weighed it in her hand, testing the balance.Then, under a roomful of disbelieving stares, she went to work.She smashed every piece of décor she could reach—glass, sculpture, framed art—reducing the elegant private dining room into a wrecked set. Her movements were fast, fluid, almost beautiful in their violence.When she finished, she tossed the bat aside and said calmly, "I tried."Andres stared.So did every guard and assistant around him.