Chapter 1
Seraphina
“I was taught to curtsy with the same hands I later used to slit a man’s throat.”
There’s a trick to smiling at monsters—you have to make them believe they’re the ones with the power.
I moved down the grand staircase like my spine wasn’t steel and my hands weren’t stained, each step measured and elegant.
I’ve worn this mask for five years now—Blackdawn’s polished heir, its perfect illusion.
But cracks started forming two years ago, and I’ve been watching everything since.
Above me, the chandelier caught on the sequins of my gown, white and shimmering like frost. Always white. A symbol. A costume. A lie.
Dominic liked when I wore white. Said it made me look pure.
He never noticed that if you spill blood slowly enough, it doesn’t stain.
Tonight, the estate overflowed with power—politicians, diplomats, CEOs, and the kind of men who made their fortunes not just on oil or tech, but on people.
Men whose offshore accounts were lined with secrets, and whose smiles hid every kind of sin.
Their presence here wasn’t just social—it was a silent nod to the empire Dominic built and the darkness it thrived in .
Blackdawn International.
On paper, it was a global logistics conglomerate—shipping, security, finance, all neatly packaged in polished branding and corporate philanthropy.
But behind the mirrored windows and boardroom doors, Blackdawn was something else entirely.
A global network trading in bodies and silence.
Weapons, information, people—especially people.
And Dominic Vex was its architect.
He’d built Blackdawn from the bones of fallen regimes and fractured governments, his hands always clean while others did the dirty work. He didn’t need to get blood under his nails—he had men for that. Systems. Contracts. A machine designed to make monsters look like businessmen.
And I was the crown jewel in his curated illusion.
They called me “the princess of Blackdawn.” Not to my face, of course—not often—but the name whispered when they thought I wasn’t listening, when they drank too much and their masks slipped.
The title wasn’t about royalty. It was about possession.
A thing born into legacy, raised to keep secrets, shaped to survive.
They looked at me and saw leverage. Bait. A future alliance if married off correctly.
But I wasn’t their pawn. Not anymore.
The ballroom stretched out before me, marble floors glistening beneath imported crystal chandeliers.
Servers in pressed black moved through the crowd, offering champagne to men who treated girls like property and contracts like cages.
I floated through them like a ghost in silk, a smile pinned to my lips .
One complimented my dress, another my eyes. A third placed his hand a fraction too low on my waist and held it there a beat too long. I laughed. Polite. Detached. Cold.
"Miss Vex," a voice oozed beside me, drawing out the syllables like syrup. "Stunning, as always."
Luther Cade.
Mid-forties. Greasy wealth. His family ran part of Blackdawn's Mediterranean routes, specializing in high-value assets. Translation: women. Girls. Anyone that would sell well. He’d been trying to arrange a match between me and his oldest son for the last year, under the delusion that I would be honored.
I turned slowly, smoothing the neutral mask over my face. "Mr. Cade. I didn’t realize you'd be in attendance."
"For an event hosted by the great Dominic Vex? How could I not? Besides, I'd never pass up the opportunity to see you."
His gaze was heavy, clinging to my skin. I resisted the urge to flinch.
"You're too kind."
"Not kind. Honest. There's a difference. Though, perhaps honesty isn't fashionable in your father's circles."
His voice dipped lower, like he thought we were sharing a secret. I tilted my head just enough to appear curious, not enough to seem inviting.
"Tell me, Miss Vex, are you still spoken for? Or has your father come to his senses about rejecting our proposal? "
I offered a tight smile. "I'm afraid Dominic makes his decisions in his own time."
"Mm. A shame. My son is quite taken with you."
No, he wasn’t. His son was taken with the idea of owning something “The Dominic Vex” created. Something beautiful and dangerous, like a blade dressed in velvet.
From across the room, Dominic watched me. Tall, sharp, dangerous in the way poison looks pretty in a glass. He raised his tumbler in silent approval, and I tilted my head in return. The same exchange we’d had a hundred times before.
Play the part.
Do it well.
But I wasn’t his puppet. Not anymore.
Behind the glitz and glitter, there were cracks. I’d memorized every shift change, every blind camera angle. I knew where the files were kept, the passwords, the backup drives. I knew which men talked too much when they drank and which ones might disappear without anyone asking questions.
I wasn’t just planning an escape.
I was building a reckoning.
I’d trained in silence—knife grips in the dark, pressure points memorized like scripture. He taught me to survive this world. I was learning how to end it.
A hand landed on my lower back. Possessive. Cold. Familiar .
"You've made an impression tonight," he said, voice low and lined with expectation.
I turned, slow and deliberate, keeping my expression neutral.
"Only because I learned from the best."
My lips curved into a smile sweet enough to pass, even if it never reached my eyes.
Dominic Vex stood beside me—the architect of every gilded cage in this building.
His suit was tailored within an inch of its life, his cufflinks gleamed with quiet menace, and his cologne was sharp enough to cut.
He looked like power, spoke like charm, and ruled like a tyrant dressed as a businessman.
"Our guest from Prague was impressed," he continued, his gaze scanning the room like a predator marking territory. "He believes you’re... adaptable."
I resisted the urge to flinch. "I’m a quick study."
"That’s my girl," he said with the ghost of a smile—an illusion of affection sharpened by expectation.
He leaned in then, not close enough to draw attention, but enough for me to smell the cold steel of his warning.
"Stay useful, Seraphina. Stay golden. You know what happens when things lose their shine."
I knew. I remembered.
He walked away, weaving back into his circle of influence, already smiling at someone else. Leaving me behind like a display piece .
I smoothed my dress and blinked the burn from my eyes.
He’d built me to survive in his world.
But I’m learning to make it burn.