Page 12 of Knot Heirs: Serenity's Reign

He offered a crystal tumbler that probably cost more than her car.

"Poisoned or just drugged?" she asked, but took it anyway. If they wanted her dead, she'd be dead. She needed to clear her head.

"Neither," he replied. "You'll need your wits about you."

The water tasted clean, expensive like everything else in this room. Serenity took stock of her surroundings more carefully now. The office was cavernous, dominated by a desk that could double as a helipad. Behind it, floor-to-ceiling windows revealed a panoramic view of the city skyline from what had to be at least the 80th floor of some downtown skyscraper.

Calculating kidnapping distance, time unconscious, and elevation... I'm still in the financial district.

Her body ached from the fight, and a quick glance confirmed bruises forming on her forearms. She was still wearing her pencil skirt and blouse from work, though her jacket was missing, along with her purse and phone. The professional attire felt absurdly out of place now.

"Is this where you tell me what you want?" Serenity asked, meeting each man's gaze in turn. "Money? Information? Or is this some Alpha power trip because an Omega dared to exist in public without a collar?"

Her scent suppressants should still be working—she'd applied them this morning—but in close quarters like this, with this many people, subtle cues might still break through. She couldn't afford to appear weak.

One of the men shifted uncomfortably at her directness. Good. She'd rattled him.

"Your lineage has become a matter of significant interest," another said, his voice cultured, English clearly not his first language though his accent was faint.

Serenity's stomach dropped, but her face remained impassive. Years of business negotiations had given her a poker face that could bluff God himself.

"My lineage?" She let disbelief color her voice. "You knocked me unconscious and dragged me to—where is this, the Evil Overlord's summer home?—to discuss my family tree?"

The silver-haired man made a slight gesture, and one of the others placed a leather portfolio on the small table beside her.

"We'll discuss everything once our host arrives," he said. "He insisted on explaining matters personally."

Host. Wonderful. The final boss hasn't even appeared yet.

Serenity took another sip of water, mind racing beneath her composed exterior. They knew who she was—her real identity, not the careful construction she'd built. The timing couldn't be coincidence, not with her father less days dead.

The double doors at the far end of the room swung open, and the atmosphere shifted instantly. The suited men straightened, their attention snapping toward the entrance with military precision.

Showtime, Serenity thought, setting down her water glass with deliberate calm.Let's see who's pulling the strings.

The silence that fell was absolute, the kind that announced power before its wielder even stepped into view.

When he finally entered, Victor Zhao commanded the room not with volume or spectacle, but with the quiet certainty of a man who had never questioned his own authority. He moved with unhurried precision, each step deliberate across the polished marble floor. Unlike the other men in their dark suits, he wore a slate gray ensemble with a mandarin collar that accentuated his lean frame and the silver at his temples. His face, though lined with sixty years of hard-earned experience, carried the sharpness of a predator—calculating, patient, dangerous.

Serenity felt the shift in the room's atmospheric pressure. Even the suited men—imposing in their own right—seemed to shrink slightly in his presence.

"Ms. Vale," Victor Zhao said, his voice a smooth baritone that required no volume to fill the room. He didn't extend his hand, instead taking the seat directly across from her. His eyes—dark and penetrating—assessed her with clinical detachment. "I apologize for the manner of your arrival. Certain situations demand... unconventional approaches."

Unconventional approaches. That's a creative way to describe kidnapping.

"I prefer my business meetings scheduled via email," Serenity replied, her voice level despite the adrenaline still coursing through her system. "And without the chloroform appetizer."

The faintest hint of amusement touched Victor's eyes, there and gone in an instant. He nodded to one of his men, who placed a sleek tablet in front of him.

"I am Victor Zhao. I head an organization called The Society." He said it like she should recognize the name, like it was Microsoft or Google instead of what she suspected was the shadow government of the criminal underworld. "We oversee matters of... succession and territory among certain influential families."

Serenity kept her expression neutral. "And I've earned your attention because...?"

"Because you are Serenity Vale, daughter of Marcus Vale." He stated it plainly, the weight of those words hanging in the air between them. "The only child and heir to the Vale Empire—a conglomerate worth billions, spanning four continents, with interests in industries both legitimate and... otherwise."

Her heart hammered against her ribcage, but she kept her breathing even.So this is it. The moment everything changes.

"My father was Andrew Brooks, a regional sales manager for medical equipment," she countered, the lie practiced and perfect. "He died when I was twelve. Cancer."

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