Richest Mogul

Sterling studied Vivian's delicate frame, noting how fragile her slender wrists seemed. It wouldn't take much to snap them. And yet, this fragile-looking woman dared to threaten him.

It was the funniest thing he'd heard in ages.

"Have you ever killed anyone?" Sterling asked with a smirk, his tone laced with amusement. He could tell at a glance her eyes were too clear, untouched by bloodshed. No killer carried such purity in their gaze.

He had seen enough killers to know the difference.

Vivian's face remained impassive. "If you don't believe me, come closer."

Sterling chuckled, clapping his hands together in a slow, mocking rhythm. "Well, well," he drawled. "So this is how you convinced Manfred to keep you alive? Impressive. But let's see if your talents are equally... diverse."

He turned to the two men flanking him. "Take her."

With that order given, he shot Vivian a final glance before striding toward a nearby cabinet. He yanked the door open. It was empty save for a few bottles and jars.

Suddenly, a scream shattered the quiet.

Sterling spun.

One of the men had his throat slit, blood gushing from the wound. The other gripped his wrist, blood dripping between his fingers.

The attack was swift and precise. The tables had turned in seconds.

Sterling's amusement vanished. His gaze hardened. "You dare fight back? Let me show you what defiance costs."

his wrist, a fine powder scattering through the

dripped with blood. She

inhaled, her vision blurred, the world tilting.

felt herself being

that was a blur. She was carried out of the hidden chamber. Then,

mechanical sound clicked

later, Manfred

bed's hidden mechanism, he immediately knew something

His voice was

No one answered.

the small secret chamber. She was

on a dark red stain on the floor. His

"Vivian!"

consciousness for what felt like an eternity. The

her

scent hung in

overheard

Mr. Bowman must really

matter how beautiful she

just a woman from the black market.

There's no way someone like her