Katy P.O.V
The morning sun spilled through the glass walls of Pris Penthouse,my own home —my kingdom.The reflection of light on the marble floors glittered like diamonds,the sound of my heels clicking across it was the anthem of power itself.Every head bowed slightly as I walked by—junior lawyers, secretaries, clients waiting nervously.Respect wasn't demanded here,it was expected.
"Miss Katy" Donald called,walking in a haste behind me with his usual clumsy steps.His glasses slid down his nose as he tried to keep up,his tablet tucked under one arm.
"What do you have for me,Donald?" I asked,my tone even,cold as champagne left on ice too long.
He scrolled through his tablet and replied carefully, "It's about James Bron,the prosecution files you requested"
I stopped walking and turned slowly to face him. "And?"
Donald swallowed hard. "We've dug into every corner of his business,ma'am,but...there's nothing solid.No paper trail.No testimony that holds up.Every lead dies before it breathes"
My lips twitched into a bitter smirk. "Then give it life"
He blinked,unsure if he'd heard right. "Ma'am?"
I took a slow step closer,the sound of my heels echoing between us. "If you can't find evidence,Donald" I said,my voice was low and steady, "then create it.A monster like James Bron doesn't walk free because we failed to catch him.He walks free because we were too afraid to get our hands dirty"
He hesitated,his Adam's apple bobbing nervously. "Fabricating evidence is—"
"—Illegal?" I cut in,arching a brow. "So is murder,Donald.And James Bron has made a hobby of it.You want to see another family buried before breakfast?"
His silence was enough.
"Good" I said,brushing imaginary dust off my sleeve. "Now,call the press and tell them Katy Perezato is about to tear the mafia apart from the inside"
I pressed the elevator button and turned back to him one last time. "And Donald…"
"Yes,ma'am?"
"If this leaks,I'll bury you before I bury him"
He nodded quickly and the elevator doors slid open.
As the elevator rose,the building hum faded beneath me—the endless typing,the ringing phones,the whispers of ambition.By the time the doors opened again,silence greeted me.The private elevator opened directly into my penthouse level,reserved for the untouchable and the powerful.The air smelled of wealth—expensive perfume,fresh lilies and Italian leather.The staff lined the hallway,their heads bowed in a synchronized bow of respect.
"Welcome home,Miss Katy" They greeted.
I nodded faintly and strode past them,pulling off my gloves.My penthouse was an art piece—a vast expanse of white marble and gold trim,walls kissed by the city's skyline,chandeliers dripping light like liquid stars.But my peace shattered in an instant.
Because my father was sitting there.
On my couch.Like it still belonged to him.
The sight of him sent a chill up my spine.His once-dark hair was dusted with silver now,his suit immaculate,his watch gleamed like guilt itself.He looked comfortable—too comfortable.
"Who the hell let him in here?" I snapped,my voice slicing through the silence.
The maids froze where they stood.One of them stammered, "Miss Katy,he said he was family and—"
"I don't give a damn what he said!" I barked. "Get out.All of you!"
The staff scattered instantly, leaving me alone with the ghost of my past.
He rose slowly from the couch,his gaze calm, ltoo calm. "You can't keep running from me forever,Katy" He said softly. "No matter where you go or what title you carry,you will always be my daughter"
My lips curved into a sharp,bitter smile. "Your daughter?" I repeated,almost laughing. "You lost that right the day you sold my brother's life to the mafia"
He winced,but didn't deny it. "You don't understand what that deal meant.It was to protect us—"
"Protect?" I spat the word like poison. "You call that protection? You call leaking police files to James Bron protection? You call my brother's blood on your hands sacrifice?"
He took a hesitant step forward. "I did what I had to do,Katy.You don't know the kind of men I was dealing with"
"Oh,I know exactly who they are" My voice cracked just slightly. "And you sided with them.You chose money over your own son.You chose the criminal over your family.Don't you dare tell me I don't understand"
For the first time,his composure slipped. "You think I don't live with that regret every single day?"
"Regret doesn't bring back the dead" I said quietly,my eyes burning. "Regret doesn't erase a bullet hole"
His expression softened,but I could see the manipulation behind it. "You're all I have left,Katy.I didn't come here to fight.I came to talk—to tell you it's time to move on.You've built an empire on hate.You've got power,money,fame.But you're alone.You need someone beside you.You need to get married"
That did it.I laughed—harsh,broken,cruel. "You're giving me love advice?"
He frowned. "I just want you to be happy, Katy"
I stepped closer until our eyes met. "You don't get to talk about happiness.You don't get to talk about love.You don't even know what it means"
He reached out,trying to touch my face and I flinched back. "Don't"
"Please,Katy—"
"DONALD!" My shout thundered through the penthouse.
The elevator doors slid open again and Donald hurried out with two armed security guards.
"Get him out of here" I ordered,my voice shaking,not from fear,but from fury.
My father looked between us,his expression was unreadable. "You're making a mistake"
"No" I whispered. "The mistake was ever calling you my father"
The guards gripped his arms.He didn't resist.He just looked at me with that same calm sadness,the look of a man who'd already lost everything worth losing.
"One day" He said softly as they led him toward the elevator, "you'll realize that revenge only destroys you.And when that day comes…I won't be there to help you pick up the pieces"
"Good" I said. "You were never any good at fixing things anyway"
The elevator doors closed behind him.
And the silence that followed was deafening.
For a moment,I just stood there,staring at the spot where he'd been.The city glittered beyond the glass walls,the world below carrying on,indifferent to my pain.My throat burned,my hands shook.I turned away,heels clicking toward my room.
When I reached the door,the tears broke.
I slammed the door shut and leaned against it,pressing my palms into the smooth wood.My chest tightened,breaths coming sharp and uneven.The tears fell before I could stop them—hot, angry, relentless.
I hated him.
I hated what he turned me into.
But most of all,I hated that a part of me still missed the father I once had.
The man who used to braid my hair before school.The man who told me my brother and I were his pride.
The man who promised to protect us forever.
That man died the night my brother did.
Now all that's left is this stranger wearing his face.
I walked to the massive window and stared down at the glittering skyline.The city was my empire.The law was my weapon.And the mafia—James Bron—was the ghost I'd sworn to hunt down.
If my father wanted forgiveness,he'd never get it.
Not after what he'd done.
Not after what I'd lost.
Revenge had become my heartbeat.
And even if it destroyed me…I'd make sure it destroyed them first.