In the heart of Westmere, inside Obsidian, the city’s most exclusive nightclub, my sister was shoved onto the center stage. Below, a pack of men jeered, each one brandishing a blood-stained hotel sheet as they argued. "It was me! I was the one in her room last night!" "Bullshit! I was definitely the first one in there!" "Get lost, it was me!" My sister's face was ashen, her eyes wide with disbelief as she stared at the man sitting on a throne-like chair in the center of it all—her fiancé. "Marcus," she pleaded, her voice trembling. "I'm your fiancée. How could you do this to me?" Marcus Thorne leaned down and pressed a kiss to the lips of the delicate woman curled in his lap before casting a cold glance at my sister. "A slut who doesn't even know who she spent the night with has the nerve to question me?" The woman in his arms giggled, her eyes dripping with contempt as she looked at my sister. I sat in a shadowed booth across the room, the fury in my eyes as sharp as a blade. I’d only been out of the country for three years, and someone already had the audacity to lay a hand on a Blackwood? 1 My assistant, standing beside me, wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. His voice was laced with reverent fear. "Ms. Blackwood, I'll summon the owner of this club at once. He will answer to you for this." A cold sneer touched my lips. "No need. Just have our people surround this place. Not even a fly gets out." He bowed. "As you wish." Touch my sister? I'll make sure you don't live to see the sunrise. Tears streamed down my sister Uta’s pale face. "Marcus, it was just you and me last night! How could there have been other men in the room?" The woman, Isla Vance, snuggled deeper into Marcus’s arms, covering her mouth in a mock giggle. "Oh, darling, you’re hilarious. Marcus was with me all night. How could he possibly have been with you? It seems to me you wanted a more... exciting first time. One man just wasn't enough for you, was it?" Uta froze, muttering in a daze. "That's impossible. Marcus gave me the room key himself. We had a candlelit dinner last night..." Her words trailed off. She looked up, her gaze locking onto Marcus, her entire body trembling with rage. "It was you. You drugged my drink, and then you called them..." Marcus simply arched an eyebrow, unconcerned. A moment later, a short video clip flashed onto the massive screen behind the stage. It was my sister, Uta, sprawled on a bed, barely clothed. With a smirk, Marcus pulled a USB drive from his pocket and tossed it onto the table. "Alright, gentlemen! The winner of tonight's little wager—whoever can prove they were the one to take Uta Blackwood's virginity—gets a little bonus prize: the full, unedited video from last night!" Every man in the club stared at the screen like a wolf sighting its prey, their eyes burning with lust. "Even that short clip was incredible. I can't imagine how wild the full version is!" "Girls from high society are just different. Even their screams sound better!" I watched the screen, my body shaking with a fury so cold it burned. When Marcus and my sister were first engaged, his family was nothing, not even a footnote compared to the Blackwood empire. If Uta hadn't been so in love with him, my parents would have never approved the match. Where did this insect get the gall to treat my sister this way? My face a mask of stone, I sent a text to my assistant, ordering him to investigate everything. Meanwhile, the men in the club were throwing stacks of cash onto the tables, barking out their bets like rabid dogs. My sister was curled into a ball in the corner of the stage, her eyes glazed over, numb to the horror unfolding around her. "All bets in?" Marcus asked, leaning back into the sofa with a lazy yawn. The club manager, after counting the money on the table, looked up in confusion. "The bets are in, Mr. Thorne, but... how do we determine who actually took Miss Blackwood's virginity last night?" Marcus grinned. "It was only last night. The evidence should still be there. A simple examination will tell us everything, won't it?" He clapped his hands. "Bring them in!" Several men in white lab coats walked onto the stage. They moved to grab Uta, their intention clear: they were going to strip her right there. The men in the crowd craned their necks, their faces alight with sick anticipation. Terrified, Uta snatched a pair of tweezers from one of the men's hands and pointed it at them, her voice a shrill scream. "Stay back! Do you have any idea who I am? If you touch me, I'll make sure every single one of you is dead by morning!" She was dead serious, but to everyone else, it was just the desperate struggle of a cornered animal. Isla Vance was the first to laugh. "Oh, honey. Do you really still think you're the untouchable princess of the Blackwood family?" She stepped forward and pinched Uta's cheek, her long nails digging into my sister’s delicate skin, drawing blood. "The Blackwoods are finished! Besides, this club belongs to my dear 'brother,' Donovan Croft. In here, you're nothing." Donovan Croft? He was one of my father's most trusted men. If this was his club, how could he possibly allow my sister to be humiliated like this? And since when was the Blackwood family "finished"? Marcus wrapped an arm around Isla's waist, cooing softly. "Don't waste your time arguing with her, darling. The priority is to find out who was lucky enough to be her first." He shot a sharp look at the men in lab coats. "What are you waiting for? Get on with it." They descended on Uta again, pinning her down. They tore at her trousers, and just as they were about to rip away her last layer of clothing, the manager's voice cut through the noise, filled with panic. "Wait!" 2 Everyone froze. The men in white coats paused, their hands hovering over my sister. The manager scrambled onto the stage, his hands trembling as he picked up a black card that had fallen from Uta's pocket. Sweat instantly beaded on his forehead. "This is... a Centurion Card?!" The name rippled through the crowd, followed by a wave of shocked murmurs. "What? A Centurion Black Card?" "There's only one person in the entire country who has that card. They say she's a legend, a ghost, someone who could destroy a family with the snap of her fingers. How did Uta Blackwood get it?!" Marcus stared at the card, his pupils constricting as his face darkened. The manager, drenched in a cold sweat, quickly dialed a number on the club's private line. "Mr. Croft, I have a guest here who is in possession of a Centurion Card. I believe you'll want to come down personally." A few moments later, the private elevator from the penthouse opened, but it wasn't Donovan who stepped out. It was a woman I recognized—his executive assistant, Jenna. "Mr. Croft was delayed with some business," Jenna announced with a practiced, professional smile. "He sent me down to receive our honored guest." She was about to take the card from the manager when Isla interrupted with a dismissive scoff. "If I'd known a little card would cause such a fuss, I would have pulled mine out sooner." Isla reached into her purse and produced a black card of her own, holding it delicately between two fingers and waving it in front of Jenna. The crowd gasped. The card in Isla’s hand was also a Centurion. "I am the holder of the Centurion Card," Isla declared, sneering at my sister. "What right does she have to possess one? It's obviously a fake." Jenna took Isla's card, examining it for a moment before her expression shifted into one of fawning subservience. "Miss Vance's card is authentic!" she proclaimed. Then, she turned to my sister, her eyes filled with disgust. "Miss Blackwood, not just anyone can have a card like this. There's no need to resort to cheap forgeries to feed your vanity." Uta shook her head, her words tumbling out in a rush. "Impossible! My sister gave me this card. It can't be fake! My sister is Aurora Blackwood!" Isla let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "Aurora Blackwood? Darling, I know every major player in this city. I've never heard that name in my life." Jenna crossed her arms, watching the scene with smug amusement. "Since Miss Vance is our most distinguished guest, this little matter concerning Miss Blackwood has nothing to do with Mr. Croft. Please, continue." The quiet crowd erupted once more. "Hurry up with the test! I've got a million riding on this!" "I'm adding another half a million! It was me!" The men in white coats closed in again, their hands reaching for the last piece of fabric protecting my sister's dignity. My assistant hadn't returned yet, but I couldn't wait another second. "Get your hands off her!" I rose from my booth, my voice cracking like a whip. I strode to the stage, and while the men were still stunned by my sudden appearance, I pulled Uta down, wrapping my own coat around her and helping her dress. Isla stared at me, her face contorted with rage. "Who the hell are you? Do you have any idea what the consequences are for causing trouble on Mr. Croft's territory?" I shielded my sister behind me, my voice as cold as ice. "Aurora Blackwood. Eldest daughter of the Blackwood family." 3 The moment the words left my mouth, the club erupted in laughter, as if I had told the most ridiculous joke in the world. "Aurora Blackwood? You've got to be kidding me. The Aurora Blackwood is a legend in this city, a ghost who can move heaven and earth. But she hasn't been seen in years. The rumor is she died overseas. You're not going to tell us that's you, are you?" "But wait, her last name is Blackwood. Could she really be from that family?" "No way. The Blackwoods only have one daughter!" Isla giggled, covering her mouth. "Uta, where did you hire this imposter? The acting is terrible. How dare she pretend to be Aurora Blackwood." I looked at her as if she were already dead. It was true that, to the outside world, Uta was the only Blackwood daughter. As the designated heir, my identity had been a closely guarded secret. I was raised in seclusion, trained to take over, my existence known to only a handful of people. "Uta, haven't you embarrassed yourself enough tonight? Get this fake out of here!" Marcus scowled at us, his expression one of utter disgust. My sister clutched my sleeve, her eyes filled with worry. I patted her hand reassuringly, my gaze shifting to Marcus, now filled with a lethal sharpness. "You are not worthy of speaking to me," I said, my voice dangerously low. "Where is Donovan Croft? Tell him to get his ass down here!" Isla looked me up and down with a sneer. "You actually have the attitude down, I'll give you that. But it's a shame. If the real Aurora Blackwood had returned, the entire city's elite would be in an uproar. How could there be not so much as a whisper?" The fury inside me burned hotter. "I said, you are not qualified to speak to me. Get Donovan Croft down here. Now." Isla rolled her eyes dismissively. "You think you can summon Mr. Croft on a whim? Since you've got such a big mouth, don't blame me for teaching an imposter like you a lesson!" She turned to the leering men in the club. "Grab her! Teach her a lesson for me. If I'm satisfied with your work, there will be a generous reward!" "Don't worry, Miss Vance, we'll make sure she learns the power of a real man!" "She said she's Uta's sister. Let's give her a taste of what her sister went through last night!" The men surged forward, their faces twisted with greed. "Who gave you the nerve to touch me?" My voice was glacial. As the first man reached for me, a slender knife appeared in my hand, and I slashed it across his face. "Aaargh!" he screamed, clutching his bleeding cheek. "Get her! Kill that bitch!" A dozen of them swarmed me at once. One of them saw an opening and grabbed me by the throat, his face a mask of rage. "You slut! You dare to cut me? I'll show you the price for laying a hand on me!" The others closed in, some even pulling out their phones to record. Uta tried to throw herself over me, to protect me, but Isla grabbed her by the hair. "Still playing the loving sisters act with this fake? After I'm done with her, you're next!" Tears streamed down Uta's face. She grabbed at Isla's dress, her voice a desperate, broken plea. "Don't touch my sister. Let her go. I'll let you do the test!" Isla kicked her to the ground with a look of disgust. "Oh, we're going to test you, alright. And we're going to deal with this imposter. Unless..." A cruel smile twisted Isla's lips. "Unless you get on your knees and bow to me. Keep going until I'm satisfied, and maybe, just maybe, I'll consider letting your fake sister go." Uta turned to Marcus, who was watching the scene with cold indifference. She gritted her teeth. "My sister is the powerful figure you're all talking about. If you hurt her..." Marcus just laughed. "Enough of this crap! Start bowing! If you don't, I'll have them do your sister right here, right now!" Isla looked down at Uta like she was an ant. A bitter, broken laugh escaped Uta's lips. "Fine. I'll do it." She knelt. And she began to bow, slamming her forehead against the hard floor again and again. "Please," she sobbed, "let my sister go..." Her forehead was bruised, swollen, and bleeding, but Isla didn't tell her to stop. My heart ached with a pain so sharp I could barely breathe. I tried to stand, to stop this, but I was pinned down, helpless. Every thud of my sister's head against the floor was like a needle plunging into my heart. My Uta, who I had sheltered and adored her entire life, had never suffered a moment of humiliation like this. My assistant should have been back by now. What was taking so long? Isla yawned, bored. "Alright, alright. Stop." A flicker of hope lit up Uta's pale face. "Does that mean you'll let my sister go?" Isla laughed at her naivety. "I said I'd consider it. And I have. My decision is... no." "You—!" Uta launched herself at Isla like a feral animal, but Marcus kicked her away before she could even get close. "You touch my sister again," I roared, a sharp pain lancing through my chest, "and I swear I will kill you." Isla strode over to me. A flash of jealousy crossed her face as she looked at me, and then she clamped her hand around my throat. "Fine. Then I'll start with you." "No!" Uta screamed in panic. "If you hurt my sister, when Donovan gets here, he won't let you off!" Isla laughed coldly. "You really think the Blackwoods are what they used to be? You have no power to threaten me!" She picked up the knife I had dropped and pressed the cold steel against my neck. Just as she was about to press down, the doors to the private penthouse elevator slid open. Donovan Croft stepped out, flanked by an army of guards in black suits. When he saw Isla holding a knife to my throat, a trickle of blood already seeping from the cut, his face instantly turned black as night.
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