Gerald's POV
Vanessa's blood is still warm on my hands.
I'm kneeling in the alley, pressing my jacket against the gunshot wound in her chest, screaming for someone to call 911. Rosa is crying beside me, her hands shaking so badly she can't dial her phone.
"Stay with me, Vanessa," I beg. "Just stay with me."
Her eyes flutter. Blood bubbles at her lips when she tries to speak. "Julie... knew... about the money..."
"What money? Vanessa, what money?"
"Your father... Rosa's father... they..." She coughs, more blood. "The merger... it's all... fake..."
"Don't talk," I tell her desperately. "Save your strength. Help is coming."
But her hand grabs mine with surprising force. "Run," she whispers. "Both of you... run... they'll kill you... just like Julie..."
Her hand goes limp.
"No!" I shake her. "Vanessa! VANESSA!"
Rosa sobs beside me. "Is she—?"
I check for a pulse. Nothing.
She's dead.
Sirens wail in the distance, getting closer. People are gathering at the alley entrance, phones out, filming. This is going to be all over the news in minutes.
I look up at the building where the shot came from. Fifth floor. Window open. But the shooter is long gone.
They killed Vanessa right in front of us. A warning. A message.
Sign the contract or you're next.
"We need to leave," I say, standing up. My legs feel shaky.
"We can't leave!" Rosa stares at me like I'm crazy. "Someone just died! We're witnesses!"
"Exactly. We're witnesses. Which makes us targets." I grab her arm. "Rosa, whoever killed Vanessa knows we're here. They're probably still watching. We need to get somewhere safe before—"
A black SUV screeches to a stop at the alley entrance. Four men in suits jump out.
My security team. Thank God.
"Mr. Whitmore!" Marcus, my head of security, runs over. He sees Vanessa's body and his face goes pale. "What happened?"
"Someone shot her. Sniper from that building." I point. "We need to leave. Now."
Marcus doesn't argue. He's ex-military and he knows danger when he sees it. "Get in the car. Both of you."
"But the police—" Rosa starts.
"Will question you later," Marcus interrupts. "Right now, you're exposed and whoever did this might take another shot. Move!"
Rosa and I run for the SUV. Marcus and his team surround us like a human shield. We pile inside and the car tears away from the alley just as police cars arrive.
I look back and see officers running toward Vanessa's body. A crowd forming. Cameras flashing.
This is a nightmare.
Rosa is shaking beside me, hugging herself. "She said my father and your father. She said the merger is fake. What does that mean?"
"I don't know." But my mind is racing.
My father died five years ago. Heart attack. Or at least that's what they told me. I took over Whitmore Luxury when I was twenty-seven, unprepared and overwhelmed. The company was struggling. I've spent five years trying to save it.
The merger with Rivera Fashion was supposed to be my salvation. Victor Rivera approached me six months ago with the proposal. I was desperate enough to agree.
But what if it's all a trap? What if my father's death wasn't natural either?
"Where are we going?" Rosa asks Marcus.
"Safe house. Until we figure out what's happening, you both need to stay off the grid."
My phone rings. Victor Rivera.
I stare at it, my hand trembling. Vanessa's words echo in my head: Your father... Rosa's father...
"Answer it," Rosa says. "If you don't, he'll know something's wrong."
She's right. I answer. "Victor."
"Gerald." His voice is calm. Too calm. "I just saw the news. A shooting near the restaurant where you were meeting Rosa? Are you both all right?"
How does he know we were there? The shooting happened ten minutes ago.
"We're fine," I lie. "Wrong place, wrong time. We left before the police arrived."
Silence. Then: "I see. Well, I'm glad you're safe. Did you and Rosa sign the contract?"
The contract. He's asking about the damn contract when someone just died.
"Not yet. We were interrupted by the, you know, murder." I can't keep the edge out of my voice.
"How unfortunate." Victor's tone doesn't change. "Well, let's reschedule. Tomorrow perhaps? We need to keep moving forward with the wedding plans."
"Someone was killed, Victor. Don't you think we should—"
"Tragedies happen in this city every day, Gerald. We can't let random violence derail our business arrangements." His voice hardens. "I'll expect you and Rosa at my office tomorrow at ten. Bring the contract. Signed."
He hangs up.
I stare at my phone, my blood running cold.
Random violence. That's what he called it. Like Vanessa's murder was just bad luck.
But Vanessa said my name. Julie's name. She was trying to warn us.
And Victor wants us in his office tomorrow. Where he can control the situation. Where we're on his territory.
"What did he say?" Rosa asks quietly.
"He wants us at his office tomorrow to sign the contract." I look at her. "He didn't seem surprised about the shooting. Or concerned. He just wants us to keep moving forward."
Rosa's face goes pale. "You think he... you think my father ordered that?"
"I don't know what I think anymore." I run my hands through my hair, feeling Vanessa's dried blood crack on my palms. "But we need answers. Fast."
Marcus leans back from the front seat. "I've got my team reviewing security footage from the building where the shot came from. We'll find the shooter."
"They're professionals," I say grimly. "They won't leave evidence."
"Then what do we do?" Rosa's voice shakes. "We can't just hide forever. And if we don't show up tomorrow, my father will know we're suspicious."
She's right. We're trapped. Show up and walk into potential danger. Don't show up and confirm we know too much.
My phone buzzes. Unknown number. Another text.
My hands shake as I open it.
"Vanessa died because she tried to save you. Don't let her death be for nothing. Your fathers made a deal twenty years ago. Julie found proof. That's why they killed her. The proof is hidden in Julie's things. Find it before they find you. And Gerald—check your father's death certificate. The heart attack was staged. They've been killing anyone who gets close to the truth."
I can't breathe.
My father was murdered too.
"What is it?" Rosa leans over to look at my phone.
I show her the message. Her face goes white.
"Twenty years ago," she whispers. "I wasn't even born yet. What kind of deal could they have made?"
Before I can answer, another text comes through. This time it's a photo.
It's old. Faded. Taken at some kind of party or celebration.
Four people standing together, smiling. All young, maybe in their twenties.
I recognize three of them immediately: My father. Victor Rivera. And a young, beautiful woman who must be Rosa's mother Margaret.
But the fourth person makes my blood turn to ice.
It's Vanessa Cole. Much younger but definitely her.
"Vanessa knew our parents," Rosa breathes. "She was friends with them twenty years ago."
Another text: "Vanessa wasn't just Julie's friend. She was your mother's best friend, Gerald. Your real mother. The one who died giving birth to you. Or so your father told you. Ask yourself—why would she use her maiden name? Why would she pretend not to know your family? What was she hiding all these years?"
The phone slips from my numb fingers.
Vanessa Cole.
Vanessa Whitmore.
My mother.
The woman I just watched die in my arms was my own mother, and I never knew.
"Gerald?" Rosa's voice sounds far away. "Gerald, what's wrong?"
I can't speak. Can't think. Can't breathe.
Everything I thought I knew is a lie.
My father lied about how my mother died. Vanessa faked her death and hid her identity for twenty-eight years. She befriended Julie, tried to warn us, and now she's actually dead.
And somewhere out there, the people who killed my mother—killed her twice—are coming for us next.
My phone rings again. Unknown number.
I answer without thinking.
"Hello, Gerald." The voice is disguised, mechanical. "Now you know the truth. Your mother tried to stop what's coming. Julie tried to stop it. Both of them died. You have seventy-two hours to sign that marriage contract and play along, or Rosa dies too. And this time, we'll make sure you watch."
The line goes dead.
Rosa stares at me with terrified eyes. "What did they say?"
I look at her—this girl I barely know, who I agreed to marry for money, who's now trapped in a nightmare because of my family's sins.
And I realize with horrible clarity that Rosa's not just a substitute bride.
She's bait.
And I just led her straight into the trap.