I’m turning nineteen in a week.

That should be the biggest thing on my mind. Cake, gifts, freedom. Instead, I’m crouched outside my stepmom’s study, heart pounding, because I just heard her say my name in the same breath as 'Mafia' and 'final payment.'

She and her brother are selling me.

Not for money. For power. My father’s gone—business trip to Tokyo—and they’re using his absence to hand me over, forfeit his properties, and vanish with the fortune. I don’t even matter. I’m collateral.

So I do the only thing I can.

I break into Dad’s study. The safe behind his painting clicks open. Inside: a black briefcase, stamped with his seal. I don’t read the files. I just take it and run.

The next morning, they come for me.

Men in black suits. No masks. No pretense. They lead me to a van. My stepmom won’t look at me.

I’m delivered to a skyscraper penthouse, all glass and steel. The man waiting isn’t what I expected. Cold, yes. But sharp. Calculating. He takes the briefcase from my hands, flips it open, and smirks.

'You stole the wrong thing,' he says.

Then he leans in.

'Or the right one. Depends on what you want.'

He extends his hand.

'Welcome to your new life.'