Chapter 1
983words
The cold November rain of Los Angeles pelted my black veil, turning it into a blurry mess. I stood before his tombstone like a hollow statue while the priest droned on with monotonous eulogies for the man who was, on paper only, my beloved.
A sea of black umbrellas surrounded me, forming a grim canopy overhead. Victor's family, friends, and lieutenants—the who's who of LA's criminal elite—stood with perfectly measured grief on their faces. But their eyes—some probing, some hungry, some coldly calculating—darted between the coffin, the crowd, and me.
Inside, I felt nothing but ice.
As an undercover cop planted by the LAPD in Victor's inner circle, my mission should have ended when he hit the ground. But when that bullet ripped through his chest, my mind went blank. I felt no relief, no sense of accomplishment—just a vast, hollow emptiness, as if something had been torn from my own soul.
The ceremony ended, the mourners scattered. As his widow, I returned to Victor's hillside villa with its commanding view of the city lights. This place would soon become a battleground. His lieutenants would come to pay their respects today, but tomorrow they'd start slaughtering each other until a new king emerged from the bloodbath.
Right on cue, Alan Rock was the first to come knocking.
His bloated body strained against his expensive tailored suit, greasy strands of hair plastered to his scalp. He looked like an overgrown sewer rat. He forced what he thought was a charming smile and thrust a velvet box into my hand.
"Ada, darling, you need comfort in these trying times," he said, his gaze crawling over my body with undisguised hunger. "Victor was a good man, but too old-fashioned. I'll give you a life that makes this seem like poverty."
I opened the box. A diamond necklace caught the dim light with cold, expensive fire. I closed it with a practiced smile. "How thoughtful, Alan. I'm sure Victor would be touched by your... concern."
My apparent submission made his smile even more smug. He left with the swagger of a man who already owned both me and Victor's empire.
I tossed the necklace onto the table like the trash it was.
Next came Vieri Bray.
Victor's strategist, a man who lived in shadows. He said nothing, just silently approached and offered me a glass of warm water. His fingers were long and cold, his eyes like bottomless wells—calm, unreadable, yet somehow all-seeing.
I accepted the glass and took a mechanical sip.
Without a word, he studied me for several heartbeats, then melted back into the shadows in the corner.
I could never read him or his labyrinthine schemes. Unlike Alan's transparent greed, Vieri's silence felt like a coiled viper waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
By midnight, all visitors had gone, leaving the villa in deathly silence. I sat alone in the vast living room, staring numbly at the sea of city lights below.
Soft footsteps approached from behind.
Without turning, I said flatly: "Cedric."
"It's me." Cedric Holt's voice carried a trace of weariness. He circled around to face me, his handsome, seemingly honest face strangely out of place in this den of wolves. "We need to talk."
I looked up at him. Cedric, Victor's youngest and most capable lieutenant. A drawn sword with its edge gleaming in the open—ambitious, hungry, the organization's fastest-rising star. Victor had valued him highly, seeing something special in him. But right now, I was too exhausted to care. I just wanted this day to end.
He scanned the room and, satisfied we were alone, lowered his voice to a tone I'd never heard from him before: "Ada, don't panic. Your handler—is he called 'the Watchmaker'?"
My blood turned to ice, my mind wiped clean by shock.
The Watchmaker—my most guarded secret, my only link to my real life. No criminal should know that name. I stepped back instinctively, every muscle coiling tight, the grief and numbness I'd been faking all day shattered by raw fear.
This ambitious upstart I'd been wary of, Victor's most trusted lieutenant... was actually a cop?
"You..." My throat dried up, barely able to form words.
He leaned closer, deadly serious: "Ada, I just spoke with our handler."
My training kicked in, suppressing the initial shock. I straightened my spine. "What did he say?"
"Victor's death creates the perfect opportunity." Cedric's eyes gleamed with ambition. "The brass wants me to take Victor's place and control the entire LA underworld. Once I'm in position, we can dismantle the whole criminal network from the inside out."
He painted a grand vision—a Los Angeles cleansed of crime and darkness.
"Ada, I need your help." He stepped closer, his gaze intense. "You're Victor's woman—those old-timers will respect that. With your support, my chances of taking over will more than double."
I said nothing, drowning in a sea of grief and confusion after years undercover. Victor... the man who bought an entire bakery because I mentioned liking their pastries, the man who tenderly tucked me in at night, was truly gone. And now I was expected to help another man carve up his legacy.
Was any of this right?
"For the greater good, Ada." Cedric's voice yanked me back from my spiraling thoughts. "Remember why we're here. This is our mission."
Mission.
Right. I'm a cop. I have a mission.
I took a deep breath and nodded: "I'll help you."
At my words, Cedric's face split into a triumphant smile, the hunger in his eyes almost scorching my skin.
