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He was ordered to destroy her. Vespera Laurent has spent twenty five years believing her mother is dead and her father simply disappeared. Then a mysterious photograph arrives, exposing a connection between her family and the most powerful dynasty in the country a connection someone has killed to keep buried. Caspian Valerion is the heir to that dynasty, and his father gives him one simple command: get close to Vespera, discover what she knows, and make sure she never uncovers the truth. But Vespera is nothing like the helpless woman he expected. She is intelligent. Defiant. Impossible to control. And the closer Caspian gets to destroying her, the harder it becomes to deny the woman he is falling for. When Vespera discovers that the man she trusted entered her life under a deadly order, everything between them shatters. But betrayal is only the beginning. Because her mother's disappearance was a lie. Her father's disappearance was a lie. And the Valerion dynasty was built on a secret powerful enough to destroy them all. Now Vespera must uncover the truth before the family that buried it silences her forever and Caspian must choose between the empire he was born to inherit and the woman he was commanded to destroy.
Contents
THE WOMAN HE WAS ORDERED TO DESTROY Chapter 1 THE WOMAN IN THE PHOTOGRAPH
The photograph showed up on a Tuesday night, slipped quietly beneath Vespera Laurent's apartment door. No footfalls, no knock, no clue who left it. By the time she saw it, her heels were off, her bag tossed onto the console, halfway across the living room-her mind still stuck on the work waiting for her on her laptop. At first, she nearly didn't bother picking it up, figuring it was another ad or stray mail that ended up at the wrong address. But the envelope-it was thick, cream-colored, almost impossible to miss against the dark floor-stopped her in her tracks.
No name. No address. No return mark.
Just her own name, written in elegant black ink.
Vespera Laurent.
She stood there, unmoving, staring at it.
Hardly anyone still addressed her that way. Even fewer knew where she lived. She'd never courted attention, and she wasn't the type to spark odd gestures or cryptic mail. Her life was built on routine-a handful of friends she could actually trust, her work, and all the questions around her family that she'd taught herself not to ask anymore.
Her mother vanished when Vespera was six.
Her father followed, a few years later.
Depending on who told it, the story kept shifting, but the ending was always the same: there's nothing left to find.
Vespera had learned to live with that.
She bent down, picked up the envelope.
Heavy for its size, oddly enough.
That strange weight settled somewhere below her ribs. She carried it to the dining table, opened it carefully. Out slid a photograph-face up, glossy against the wood.
For a few seconds, the world stopped. She forgot how to breathe.
She recognized the woman instantly.
The photograph was old-edges soft and worn from time-but the face staring back at her was unmistakeable. Dark hair, refined features, that calm, steady look Vespera remembered, even after all these years.
Her mother.
Isolde Laurent.
Vespera's fingers trembled as she traced the outline, brushing over the woman she'd spent nineteen years trying not to miss too much.
Then she saw the woman standing beside her.
Her hand went still.
That face-she knew it, too. Everyone did.
Leontine Valerion.
Matriarch of the Valerion dynasty.
The Valerion name meant old money, private banks, luxury real estate, political power, businesses big enough to bend entire industries. Leontine rarely turned up in public these days, but whenever she did, the press acted like actual royalty had shown up.
Vespera looked from her mother to Leontine, back again.
No mistake.
They stood together. Not a random, crowded snapshot-they were side by side, close. Isolde looked right into the camera. Leontine had her hand resting lightly on her arm, like they belonged together.
Vespera's heart sped up.
Her mother had never spoken of the Valerions.
Not once.
She'd combed through all the pieces Isolde left behind-old belongings, letters, forgotten photos, searching for anything to explain where or why she'd gone. Nothing ever linked her to the most powerful family in the country.
She turned the photograph over.
On the back, a message:
Your mother lied about why she disappeared.
The words blurred as she stared at them.
Her first reaction-dismiss it, call it a cruel prank. Grief draws out opportunists. She'd met plenty who found twisted delight in others' wounds. But this was different. Too precise, too personal; whoever sent this knew exactly which part of her past still stung the most.
She flipped the photo over. Looked harder.
Something felt off.
The photo was on old paper, but that background bothered her. Behind her mother and Leontine stood a glass structure, a narrow stone staircase, massive doors. Vespera knew that building-just couldn't place it yet.
She zoomed in with her phone, scanning details.
And then-caught in the distance-a car.
A model that didn't even exist until years after her mother's official disappearance.
Her gut twisted.
Impossible.
Every record she'd ever seen swore Isolde vanished twenty-five years ago.
But that car wasn't twenty-five years old.
Someone lied about the date.
Or someone lied about when her mother really disappeared.
A cold chill worked through her.
She grabbed her phone, opened the folder she never wanted to see-all those digital files she'd collected on Isolde. Birth records, old reports, photographs, clippings, legal bits-every scrap she'd managed to keep.
Found the disappearance report.
There it was: twenty-five years ago.
She looked down at the photo again.
"No," she whispered.
Enlarged the image once more, scoured it for a mistake.
There was none.
The car was newer than the disappearance date.
The building looked renovated-work done after her mother was supposed to be gone.
This picture was taken much later.
Vespera stood up, pushed away from the table.
Suddenly, the apartment felt different.
Too quiet.
She glanced at the windows, the hallway towards her bedroom-nothing moved.
Still, that feeling-the icy prickling at the back of her neck-settled in. Like she was being watched, even though she was alone.
She checked the locks.
Front door? Secured.
Balcony? Locked.
Windows? Shut.
Everything looked exactly the same.
But not quite.
On her way back to the living room, something caught her eye.
The drawer beneath the television console was a little open.
She stopped.
She always closed that drawer. Always.
Vespera walked over, pulled it fully open.
Nothing was missing. Passport? Still there. Emergency cash? Untouched. The jewelry she barely wore hadn't been moved.
Whoever broke in wasn't after money.
They'd been looking for something else.
Her eyes scanned the room.
Then she remembered her mother's box-the old wooden one.
She'd tucked it in the bottom cabinet of the writing desk, buried beneath musty files. Isolde left it behind when she disappeared. Vespera could never get it open, but she kept it-one of the last things connecting her to her mother.
She hurried to the desk.
The cabinet was open.
Her heart raced.
The box wasn't under the files anymore.
It sat on the top of the desk, placed there deliberately.
She stared.
Dark, worn with age. Faint scratches. An old brass lock. When she was a teenager, she tried to open it over and over but never found the key. Eventually, she gave up.
Now she knew.
Someone came for this.
And wanted her to find out.
Vespera reached for it, paused.
Actual fear settled in, heavier than curiosity.
She looked at the door.
Looked back at the box.
Somehow, whatever was inside mattered enough for someone to break into her apartment.
Slowly, she lifted the lid.
The lock clicked open.
She stopped breathing.
No jewelry. No money. No family heirloom.
Inside was just a single black card pressed into the faded velvet lining.
She picked it up.
A silver emblem shone on the surface.
A crowned V, circled by delicate patterns.
Vespera knew that symbol.
The Valerion family crest.
She stared at the card. Why would her mother's things be hidden with the emblem of a family she was supposed to have never known?
She flipped the card.
No writing on the back.
Only one thing made sense.
Someone didn't just want Vespera to uncover her mother's secrets.
They wanted her to know: the Valerions were expecting her.
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