Chapter 5 Four

I went back home

I knew something was wrong before I even stepped out of the car. The gate had taken too long to open-thirty seconds, maybe more, stalling like the system was unsure whether to let me in. It never did that. Not once in all the years I'd returned home had the gates hesitated. And the moment I drove up the long curve of the driveway, it became clear that something wasn't right.

Unfamiliar vehicles lined the estate-sleek black sedans and SUVs with no family crest, no diplomatic plates, no insignia. Rental tags, anonymous models. The kind used by people who didn't want to be seen, or worse, didn't think they had to answer to anyone.

I parked near the steps and stepped out into the cold morning air. The lights inside the manor were dimmed far too low, casting the windows in a soft orange haze that gave the estate a sickly, distorted look. The front doors were slightly ajar. No one waited for me at the entrance. No staff, no security, no familiar nods or greetings. The silence wasn't peaceful.

Inside, I found strangers. Men in dark, fitted suits moved through the halls with casual confidence, lifting antique boxes, sealed scrolls, even personal effects from behind glass panels. Family heirlooms. My family's legacy, reduced to inventory. I spoke-demanded answers, names, anything-but not one of them acknowledged me. A glance here, a smirk there, but not a single response. I was invisible in my own home. No, not invisible. Dismissed.

The weight in my chest grew heavier with each step. I moved quickly through the gallery, past the split staircase, and into the west corridor. The air was colder here. The halls narrower. The house had always been old, but now it felt like something dead. I reached the main room, the center of the estate, and stepped inside.

Uncle Darius sat in my father's chair.

He was perfectly composed-legs crossed, a crystal glass in one hand, the firelight catching the silver at his temples. He looked at me the way a landlord looks at a tenant who's overstayed their lease. No surprise. No guilt. Just quiet ownership.

"I was wondering when you'd get here," he said without looking up.

"Where's my father?" I asked, my voice already too tight.

Darius didn't hesitate. "Dead. Heart failure, one night ago. Quick. Peaceful, I'm told."

My breath caught in my throat. I didn't respond. Couldn't. He swirled the liquid in his glass, waiting for me to react. When I didn't, he continued.

"And Anna?" I asked, forcing my voice out, though it felt like gravel.

"She left. Packed her things and vanished shortly after the funeral arrangements were finalized. No forwarding address."

I stepped forward, anger rising now, confusion burning beneath it. "You're sitting in his chair. Giving answers like you own the place. What the hell is this?"

Darius finally looked at me fully. "This is a transition. Your father, for all his... ambitions, understood that legacy must be kept in capable hands. Everything has been transferred. The estate, the holdings, the family seat. All of it. To me."

My jaw clenched. "That's not possible. I've seen the papers. The wills. The succession rights-"

"All amended. Quietly. Months ago," he interrupted. "While you were out wining and dining foreign investors and grinning for the cameras, your father was consolidating. Preparing. He knew where the line of strength was drawn, Neven-and it wasn't under your feet."

Darius had always been the family's knife in the dark. The one who made the unpleasant decisions. I just never imagined he'd make one *for* me.

He raised his hand slightly, and two men stepped forward from the shadows-tall, broad-shouldered, wearing earpieces and blank expressions. Not guards. Enforcers.

"You're done here," Darius said, his voice calm, almost bored. "I could have had you removed quietly while you were still at the gala. Be grateful I let you walk in first."

I stood there, fury shaking just beneath the surface. I could already feel the sharp end of exile pressing against my skin.

"I'll make you regret this," I said, my voice low, steady. "You'll rue this day, Darius."

He smiled thinly and took another sip from his glass. "That's the spirit."

They dragged me to the steps, but I walked the rest myself.

My car waited where I left it, untouched. Good. At least the house still remembered whose name had once meant something here.

I opened the door, slid into the driver's seat, and sat for a moment with my hands on the wheel. The leather was still warm from the sun.

In the rearview mirror, the manor loomed. Cold. Silent. Already erasing me.

I started the engine.

The growl echoed through the trees, and for a brief second, I saw lights flicker in one of the upper rooms. Watching.

I didn't wait.

I left the way I came-head high, coat clean, power idling under my hands.

Whatever Darius thought he stole...