From Bride to Scorpion's Heir

My wedding day was perfect.

The Arizona sun, desert blooms, the man of my dreams at the altar.

Ethan.

My father, Senator Daniel Reynolds, a pillar of the community, walked me down the aisle, his pride evident.

It was all a beautiful lie.

Just as I reached Ethan, he pulled out a DEA badge.

"Senator Daniel Reynolds, you're under arrest."

Chaos erupted, a shot rang out, and my father fell, dead.

Ethan's cold eyes delivered the final blow: "It was an operation, Ava. Nothing more."

My world shattered.

I was discarded, questioned, abandoned.

The man I loved blocked me, his job done.

But the depths of my betrayal didn't stop there.

I soon unearthed my mother's secret.

Her "hiking accident" was no accident; she was a DEA agent, investigating my father, and killed by his cartel.

My life, a cruel charade.

How could everything I believed be a lie?

My loving father a drug lord?

My gentle mother a secret agent?

My fiancé, a calculating spy?

The injustice burned, fueling a fire hotter than any pain.

Now, Ava Reynolds is dead.

Ava is no more-only Alma remains.

I will turn my pain, my rage, into a weapon.

I will infiltrate the heart of the cartel that stole my mother.

I will make them pay.

Even if it means using the very man who broke me.

Chapter 1

The music swelled, a sweet melody I'd chosen months ago.

This was it. My wedding day.

Ethan waited at the altar, his smile the one I'd fallen in love with.

My father, Senator Daniel Reynolds, held my arm, his grip firm, proud.

He was a good man, my father. Everyone in Arizona knew it.

The scent of desert blooms, our theme, filled the Scottsdale resort air.

I focused on Ethan, my future, my everything.

My father placed my hand in Ethan's.

Ethan's fingers were cold.

His smile vanished.

He didn't look at me. He looked at my father.

He reached into his jacket.

Not for a ring.

For a badge.

A DEA badge.

"Senator Daniel Reynolds," Ethan's voice was a stranger's, hard and flat.

"You're under arrest."

My breath caught. This was a joke. A terrible, sick joke.

"We know about 'Operation Desert Bloom'," Ethan continued, his eyes like ice.

"And your call sign, 'Scorpion'."

My father's face went white.

"Ethan, what is this?" I whispered, tugging his arm.

He ignored me.

Chaos.

Shouts.

A glint of metal from the crowd.

A loud crack.

Instinct.

I threw myself in front of Ethan.

A searing pain in my shoulder.

I stumbled.

My father lunged, not at Ethan, but maybe for a weapon, or to run.

Another crack.

Louder. Closer.

Ethan's gun was out. Smoking.

My father fell.

His eyes, wide with shock, found mine for a second.

Then nothing.

"No!" I screamed, trying to reach him.

Ethan grabbed my good arm.

"He's gone, Ava." Cold. Professional.

"Take her for questioning," he ordered someone behind me.

Hands pulled me away.

"Our love?" I choked out, staring at the man I was supposed to marry.

"Was any of it real?"

He finally looked at me, his face a mask.

"It was an operation, Ava. Nothing more."

The white ceiling of the hospital room swam into focus.

My shoulder throbbed.

Not as much as my heart.

Red and blue lights flashed outside the window, painting the sterile walls.

The joyful music of my wedding was replaced by the harsh static of police radios.

I remembered Ethan's face, cold, distant.

My father's crumpled body.

A sob escaped me.

Where was Ethan? He should be here.

Even if he arrested my father, he wouldn't just leave me.

A sharp-faced woman in a suit entered. Agent Ramirez, her badge read.

"Ava Reynolds?"

I nodded, my throat tight.

"We need to ask you some questions about your father's activities."

Her voice was flat, devoid of sympathy.

"Specifically, about his dealings around the anniversary of your mother's death."

My mother.

Her hiking accident in the Sonoran Desert. Years ago.

Why bring her up now?

"Was Ethan... was he hurt?" I asked, a desperate, foolish hope.

Ramirez looked at me, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes.

"Agent Brooks is fine. He's dedicated to his work."

The words were a slap. Agent Brooks. Not Ethan.

"He has a real life, Ms. Reynolds. Commitments within the DEA."

Real life.

So I was the fake one.

"Does he... does he have someone else?" The question was a whisper, shameful.

I needed to know how complete the lie was.

Ramirez's expression didn't change.

"Agent Brooks is a professional. His personal life is his own."

But her eyes said more. They said, yes, of course he does, you fool.

"Can I see him?" I asked Agent Ramirez the next morning. My voice was hoarse.

She didn't even look up from her papers.

"Agent Brooks is busy with the investigation. He has no time for civilian contact not pertinent to the case."

Civilian contact. That's what I was now.

I hid my face in the cheap hospital pillow.

The tears came then, hot and silent.

He never loved me.

It was all a performance.

My phone, miraculously returned to me, lay on the bedside table.

I remembered sending him a text just last night, before the wedding.

"Can't wait to be Mrs. Brooks. Love you more than words can say."

He hadn't replied.

I'd thought he was busy with last-minute wedding things.

My thumb hovered over his contact.

Maybe if I called. Maybe he'd explain.

It rang. Once. Twice.

"Brooks." His voice, clipped, impatient.

"Ethan, it's Ava."

Silence.

Then, "This number is for official DEA business only. Do not call it again."

The line went dead.

I tried again.

A recorded message: "The number you have dialed has blocked incoming calls from your number."

Blocked.

He'd blocked me.

The pain in my shoulder was a dull ache compared to this.

Days blurred.

More questions. More sterile rooms.

The nurses were kind but distant.

I was the daughter of a drug lord. A pariah.

But I didn't believe it. My father? Scorpion?

It wasn't possible. He was a philanthropist. A senator.

He loved me.