Chapter 1-THE LETTER
London was still awake at midnight.
Rain covered the streets like a thin veil, turning the city lights into blurred gold beneath the dark sky. Black taxis moved through the wet roads, their headlights cutting through the fog.
On the twenty-third floor of a modern apartment building overlooking the Thames, Ethan Vale stood beside his window, staring at the city.
He had always loved London at night.
It made everyone look like a secret.
Ethan was twenty-seven, successful enough to live comfortably, but nowhere near powerful enough to attract attention. He worked as a financial analyst in Canary Wharf and lived a quiet life.
At least, he thought it was quiet.
Until the letter arrived.
A knock sounded at his apartment door.
Ethan frowned.
Nobody was supposed to be visiting.
He checked his phone.
12:07 a.m.
Another knock.
Three slow taps.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Ethan walked toward the door.
"Who is it?"
Silence.
He looked through the security camera.
The hallway was empty.
His heart began beating faster.
He opened the door slightly.
There was an envelope lying on the floor.
No footsteps.
No elevator movement.
Nothing.
Ethan picked it up.
His name was written across the front in black ink.
ETHAN VALE
He stared at it.
The handwriting looked strangely old-fashioned.
He closed the door and locked it.
Then he turned the envelope over.
There was no sender.
No address.
Only a symbol pressed into the black wax sealing it.
A crown.
Ethan's stomach tightened.
He broke the seal.
Inside was a single sheet of thick white paper.
He unfolded it.
There were only three sentences.
«THE THRONE IS YOURS.
BUT DO NOT TAKE IT.
THEY WILL KILL YOU IF YOU DO.»
Ethan stared at the words.
For several seconds, he couldn't move.
Then he laughed nervously.
"This isn't funny."
He checked the envelope again.
Nothing.
He turned the paper over.
Blank.
Then he noticed something written at the bottom.
A date.
October 17.
Ethan looked at the clock.
October 17.
Tonight.
His smile disappeared.
A sudden sound came from outside.
A car horn.
Ethan rushed toward the window.
Across the street, a black Mercedes was parked beneath a streetlamp.
Someone was sitting inside.
Watching his building.
Ethan stepped away from the window.
The car's headlights suddenly turned on.
Then the Mercedes drove away.
His phone rang.
Ethan jumped.
Unknown number.
He answered.
"Hello?"
A man's voice whispered through the phone.
"Did you get the letter?"
Ethan froze.
"Who is this?"
"You need to leave your apartment."
"Who are you?"
"They know you've received it."
"Who?"
The line went silent.
Then the voice returned.
"Your family."
The call ended.
Ethan stared at the phone.
His family?
His parents had died when he was a child.
He had grown up believing he was an ordinary man with an ordinary family.
His mother had never spoken about royalty.
His father had never mentioned a throne.
And yet...
The throne is yours.
Ethan walked to his desk and opened the bottom drawer.
Inside was an old photograph.
His father stood beside a tall stone building.
Ethan had seen the photograph hundreds of times.
But tonight, something was different.
He picked up a magnifying glass.
Behind his father, almost hidden in the shadows, stood an old man wearing a dark suit.
On the man's chest was the same crown symbol.
Ethan's breathing stopped.
He searched through the drawer again.
Underneath some old documents, he found a small metal box.
He had never seen it before.
There was a key taped to the bottom.
Ethan unlocked the box.
Inside was an old newspaper clipping.
The headline made his blood run cold.
SECRET ROYAL BLOODLINE DISCOVERED?
Below the headline was a photograph.
His father.
And beneath the photograph was a name Ethan had never heard before.
KING EDWARD VALE III
Ethan dropped the newspaper.
"No..."
A sound came from the hallway.
Footsteps.
Slow.
Coming toward his apartment.
Ethan grabbed the letter.
The footsteps stopped outside his door.
He held his breath.
Someone tried the handle.
Once.
Twice.
Then the door began to shake.
Ethan stepped backward.
The lock broke.
The door flew open.
A man wearing a black mask entered.
Ethan barely had time to react.
The attacker swung a metal baton toward his head.
Ethan ducked.
The baton smashed into the wall.
Ethan grabbed the man's arm and slammed him against the door.
The attacker was stronger than he expected.
He punched Ethan in the stomach.
Ethan collapsed.
The man reached into his coat.
A knife appeared.
Ethan's eyes widened.
He rolled away just as the blade struck the floor.
He grabbed a glass lamp and smashed it against the man's shoulder.
The attacker stumbled.
Ethan ran.
He reached the kitchen and grabbed the nearest object he could find.
A heavy frying pan.
The attacker charged.
Ethan swung.
CRACK.
The man fell.
For a moment, everything was silent.
Ethan stood there, breathing heavily.
Then the attacker slowly raised his head.
"You should have stayed away from the throne."
Ethan stared at him.
"What throne?"
The man smiled.
"You really don't know."
Then he bit down.
Ethan heard a tiny crack.
The man's body went limp.
Ethan froze.
Poison.
He stepped backward in horror.
His phone began ringing again.
Unknown number.
He answered.
A woman's voice came through.
"Are you alive?"
Ethan looked at the unconscious man.
"Who are you?"
"My name is Victoria Ashford."
The name meant something.
Everyone in London knew it.
Victoria Ashford was one of Britain's most influential businesswomen. She owned companies, controlled major investments, and had connections reaching into Parliament, the media, and London's most powerful circles.
Why would she call him?
She continued.
"If you want to survive tonight, Ethan, you need to trust me."
"How do you know my name?"
Silence.
Then she said something that made his blood run cold.
"Because I knew your father."
Ethan gripped the phone.
"My father died twenty years ago."
"I know."
"Who was he?"
Victoria breathed quietly.
Then she answered.
"Your father was the last true king."
Ethan couldn't speak.
Outside, sirens began screaming through the streets.
Victoria continued.
"And you..."
A pause.
"...are his only heir."
The call ended.
Ethan looked down at the letter in his trembling hand.
THE THRONE IS YOURS.
He looked toward the broken door.
Then toward the dead attacker.
For the first time in his life, Ethan wondered whether everything he knew about himself had been a lie.
His phone vibrated.
A new message appeared.
UNKNOWN NUMBER
«RUN, ETHAN.
THEY ARE COMING FOR YOU.
AND WHATEVER YOU DO...
DO NOT TAKE THE THRONE.»
