Chapter One: An Invitation She Never Asked For
POV: Mia
Mia was halfway through her second glass of champagne when she realized the invitation in her hand wasn't a mistake.
The card was thick, creamy, embossed in gold so subtle it caught the light only when tilted. Her name— _Mia Chen_ —was engraved with quiet confidence, the kind that didn't need to announce itself. The address listed a private marina off Sentosa Island.
The event: _An Evening Aboard the Aurelius._
She had Googled the yacht already. Anyone would have.
It was owned by the Liévan Group—an old-money luxury conglomerate whose name floated through business headlines like a whisper of power. Hotels in Monaco. Vineyards in Bordeaux. Shipping lines that had survived wars and scandals with unnerving elegance.
And somehow, impossibly, she was invited.
Mia smoothed her navy silk dress as the yacht loomed before her, a sleek white beast glowing against the Singapore skyline. The marina buzzed with low laughter and clinking glasses, women in couture gowns and men in tailored suits stepping aboard as if they belonged there—as if this world had always been theirs.
She felt the familiar tightening in her chest.
You don't belong, a quiet voice whispered.
She ignored it and handed her invitation to the attendant.
"Welcome aboard, Ms. Chen."
No hesitation. No confusion.
That unsettled her more than rejection would have.
The deck smelled faintly of salt and citrus. Soft lights traced the yacht's curves, reflecting off polished wood and crystal railings. A string quartet played somewhere above, the music floating through the warm night air like silk.
Mia moved carefully, aware of every step, every glance.
Conversations hummed around her—investment strategies, upcoming galas, a private island recently acquired in the Maldives. She caught fragments, enough to understand that wealth here wasn't loud. It was assumed.
She reached for a flute of champagne from a passing tray, steadying herself.
You can do this , she told herself. You've navigated new worlds before.
Just not ones like this.
"First time?"
The voice was male. Smooth. Amused.
Mia turned.
He was leaning casually against the railing, dark suit perfectly fitted, the city lights catching the sharp angles of his face. His expression held a knowing half-smile, the kind men wore when they were used to being watched.
Unfortunately, he was right. She was watching him.
"Is it that obvious?" she asked.
"Only to someone who notices these things." His gaze flicked briefly to her untouched champagne, then back to her eyes. "You're holding the glass like it might disappear."
Mia laughed despite herself. "Maybe it will. I hear objects behave differently in unfamiliar territory."
He chuckled. "Adrian."
"Mia."
"Just Mia?" His brow lifted slightly.
She met his gaze evenly. "Just Mia."
Something unreadable crossed his expression. Interest, perhaps. Or caution.
"Well, Just Mia," he said, "welcome to the circus."
She glanced around. "This is a circus?"
"A beautifully choreographed one. Everyone here has a role. Some just don't know it yet."
The words lingered, heavier than casual conversation. Mia studied him more closely now—the confidence in his posture, the ease with which he occupied space. He belonged here in a way she never would.
"So," she said lightly, "what's your role?"
His smile sharpened. "That depends who's asking."
Before she could respond, a well-dressed woman approached them, her pearls understated, her eyes sharp.
"Adrian," she said warmly, though her gaze flicked to Mia with curiosity.
"They're looking for you upstairs."
His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
"I'll be there shortly."
The woman nodded and walked away, already scanning the crowd.
Mia raised an eyebrow. "Important?"
"Family," he replied, the word clipped. "Always urgent. Rarely pleasant."
She understood that more than she expected.
"Well," she said, lifting her glass, "good luck with that."
He hesitated, then leaned closer, lowering his voice. "Be careful tonight, Mia."
Her pulse quickened. "Of what?"
"Of assuming this invitation was harmless."
Before she could ask what he meant, he was gone, swallowed by the staircase and the world he clearly knew how to navigate.
An hour later, Mia stood alone on the upper deck, the city stretching endlessly beyond the yacht. She needed air. Space. Something solid beneath her feet that didn't cost more than her apartment.
Her phone vibrated.
An email.
Subject: Regarding Your Inheritance.
Her breath caught.
She opened it.
Ms. Chen,
As discussed, your presence tonight confirms the validity of the claim. The Liévan family will be formally notified at midnight.
We recommend discretion.
Mia's fingers went numb.
Inheritance? Claim? Liévan family?
Her gaze lifted slowly—just as Adrian emerged onto the deck, his expression unreadable, his phone still in his hand.
Their eyes met.
Something shifted.
He looked at her like a man who had just realized a stranger was about to change everything.
And Mia knew, with sudden, terrifying clarity, that this night was only the beginning.