The night felt heavier than usual.
Like the city itself was holding its breath.
Maverick stood in his private office, the dim light casting long shadows across the walls. A thick file lay open on his desk, its contents scattered—documents, photographs, records that had taken years to bury.
And now…
They were resurfacing.
"Boss," one of his men said carefully, standing a few steps away. "We found everything we could on the girl."
Maverick didn't look up immediately.
"Say it."
The man hesitated for a brief second before stepping forward and placing the final document on the desk.
"Her full name is Anna… but there's no registered father. However—"
Maverick's eyes flicked up sharply.
"However?"
The man swallowed.
"We traced her mother."
Silence.
Dead silence.
Maverick's fingers curled slightly against the table.
"What's her name?"
The man took a breath.
"Mirabel James."
Time stopped.
The name echoed in Maverick's mind like a gunshot.
Mirabel.
James.
His chest tightened, his heartbeat suddenly loud in his ears.
"No," he muttered under his breath.
"That's not possible."
But the man continued, unaware of the storm he had just unleashed.
"She disappeared years ago. No confirmed records of her after that. But the timeline… it matches."
Maverick's hand slammed against the desk.
"Get out."
The man flinched.
"Boss—"
"I said get out!"
The door shut quickly behind him.
Silence returned.
But this time—
It was suffocating.
Maverick stared down at the file again, his breathing uneven.
Mirabel.
His Mirabel.
The girl he had loved before everything went wrong.
Before the blood.
Before the power.
Before he became the man he was now.
Memories flooded back—
Her laughter.
Her stubbornness.
The way she used to look at him like he was more than the darkness he carried.
And then—
The night she disappeared.
Gone without a trace.
No explanation.
No goodbye.
Just… gone.
He had searched for her.
For years.
Until eventually, he was forced to accept the truth.
Or what he thought was the truth.
That she was dead.
But now…
His gaze shifted to Anna's photograph.
The resemblance.
The familiarity.
The way something inside him had reacted the moment he saw her.
It wasn't coincidence.
It wasn't imagination.
It was blood.
His chest tightened painfully.
"Anna…" he whispered.
His mind raced, connecting the pieces.
The timeline.
Mirabel's disappearance.
Anna's age.
The missing father.
Everything pointed to one conclusion.
A conclusion he both feared and couldn't deny.
"She's mine."
The words left his lips like a confession.
Like a realization that changed everything.
Maverick stepped back slowly, running a hand through his hair.
If this was true—
If Anna was really his daughter—
Then everything had just changed.
Everything.
His war with Vincent.
His plans.
His enemies.
His future.
And most importantly—
Her life.
Across the city…
Vincent sat in his study once again.
But this time, the tension in the room was different.
Sharper.
More focused.
Another file lay open before him.
Anna's file.
But unlike before—
This one had answers.
Or at least…
Pieces of them.
One of his most trusted men stood across from him.
"We dug deeper, just like you asked."
Vincent's eyes remained on the document.
"And?"
The man hesitated.
"Her mother wasn't just some unknown woman."
Vincent finally looked up.
"Explain."
The man took a step forward.
"Her real name wasn't what we initially found."
Vincent's gaze darkened slightly.
"What is it?"
The man exhaled.
"Mirabel James."
Silence.
A slow, dangerous silence.
Vincent leaned back slightly, processing the name.
Mirabel James.
The name wasn't unfamiliar.
In fact—
It was very familiar.
Too familiar.
His jaw tightened.
"That's not possible."
But the man continued.
"She was connected to Maverick years ago."
That did it.
Vincent stood up slowly.
The air in the room shifted instantly.
Cold.
Calculated.
Deadly.
"You're telling me," Vincent said quietly,
"That Anna's mother… was Maverick's woman?"
"Yes."
Vincent's mind began to piece it together.
The missing records.
The unknown father.
Maverick's reaction at the warehouse.
The way he had hesitated.
The way he had looked at Anna.
It all made sense now.
Too much sense.
Vincent let out a slow breath.
"And her father?"
The man shook his head.
"No official records. But…"
Vincent's eyes narrowed.
"But what?"
The man met his gaze carefully.
"All evidence points to one possibility."
Silence stretched between them.
Vincent already knew the answer.
But hearing it out loud would make it real.
"It's Maverick."
The room felt smaller.
Heavier.
Vincent turned away, walking toward the window.
His reflection stared back at him.
Unmoving.
Unshaken.
But inside—
Everything had shifted.
Anna.
The woman he had just started to fall for.
The one he had risked everything to save.
The one who had somehow broken through his walls.
Was…
His enemy's daughter.
Vincent closed his eyes briefly.
This wasn't just complicated.
This was dangerous.
Explosive.
Because if Maverick knew—
Everything would change.
And knowing Maverick—
He would find out.
Vincent opened his eyes again, his expression hardening.
"Does she know?" he asked.
"No."
Vincent nodded slowly.
"Good."
Because if Anna found out like this—
It would destroy her.
And he wasn't going to let that happen.
Not yet.
In the living room…
Anna sat quietly, staring at nothing.
Her mind was restless.
Ever since Vincent's words—
"You're not who you think you are."
She couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.
That something big was being hidden from her.
Her thoughts were interrupted when Vincent walked in.
She looked up immediately.
"Vincent…"
He stopped a few steps away from her.
For a moment—
He didn't speak.
He just looked at her.
Really looked at her.
And now—
He saw it.
The resemblance.
Not just to Mirabel—
But to Maverick too.
It was subtle.
But it was there.
And now that he knew—
He couldn't unsee it.
Anna stood up slowly.
"What's going on?" she asked softly.
Vincent took a step closer.
"There's something I need to tell you."
Her heart skipped.
"What is it?"
He hesitated.
Just for a second.
Because this—
This would change everything.
But before he could speak—
His phone rang.
He frowned slightly, glancing at the screen.
Unknown number.
He answered.
"Speak."
The voice on the other end was calm.
Too calm.
"Maverick."
Vincent's grip on the phone tightened.
"Of course it is."
Anna's heart dropped at the name.
Maverick continued.
"I think we need to talk."
Vincent's eyes darkened.
"I don't talk to enemies."
A pause.
Then—
"This isn't about us."
Vincent's gaze flickered briefly to Anna.
"Then what is it about?"
Maverick's next words changed everything.
"It's about her."
Silence.
Heavy.
Dangerous.
Final.
Vincent's jaw clenched.
"What about her?"
Another pause.
Then—
"I know who she is."
Anna's breath caught.
Vincent's expression turned deadly.
"And who is that?"
Maverick's voice dropped slightly.
"She's my daughter."
The world stopped.
Anna froze.
Her heart pounding violently in her chest.
"What…?" she whispered.
Vincent didn't respond.
He couldn't.
Because in that moment—
Everything they had just discovered…
Had become real.
The line went silent.
But the damage was done.
Anna looked between Vincent and the phone, her mind struggling to process what she had just heard.
"That's not true," she said quickly, shaking her head.
"That's not possible."
Her voice trembled.
Vincent finally looked at her.
And in his silence—
She found her answer.
Her world shattered.
Miles away…
Maverick stood alone, phone still in his hand.
His expression was unreadable.
But his eyes—
They held something new.
Something unfamiliar.
Not rage.
Not ambition.
Not revenge.
Something deeper.
Something dangerous in a completely different way.
Protectiveness.
"Anna…" he muttered quietly.
His daughter.