Chapter 1
THE DON'S FAVOURITE WEAKNESS
A Dark Romance Novel
Some memories refuse to die. Some men refuse to let go.
CHAPTER ONE
The Man Who Never Smiled
VELMORA CITY
11:43 P.M.
Rain fell over Velmora like the heavens had developed a personal grudge against the city.
From the forty-second floor of the Moretti Tower, Lucien Moretti watched the streets glitter beneath the storm. Expensive cars crawled through the traffic below, their headlights cutting through the darkness. Somewhere in the distance, sirens wailed.
He didn't bother looking toward them.
Nothing happening outside his window concerned him.
At least, nothing had for the past eleven years.
"Your guests have arrived, sir."
Lucien adjusted the cuff of his black shirt.
"Then why are you standing here telling me?"
His assistant, Matteo, paused.
"Because they're asking for you."
"Let them ask."
Matteo wisely decided that silence was the superior option.
Everyone who worked for Lucien eventually learned three things.
Never lie to him.
Never mistake his silence for stupidity.
And never, under any circumstances, interrupt him twice for the same reason.
Lucien picked up his glass of water and took a measured sip.
He was twenty-nine, wealthy beyond reason, and powerful enough that people twice his age carefully considered their words before addressing him.
His business interests stretched across Velmora. His family name opened doors, closed investigations, and inspired a level of respect that occasionally resembled fear.
He had inherited an empire.
He had expanded it.
And he had learned, very young, that the world rarely gave anything without demanding something in return.
"Anything else?" he asked.
Matteo hesitated.
"Your mother called."
Lucien's expression remained unchanged.
"Did she leave a message?"
"She said you should attend the Moretti Foundation gala on Friday."
"Tell her I'll consider it."
"She also said that if you don't attend, she'll personally come here and drag you there."
For the first time that evening, Lucien looked mildly interested.
"She's becoming ambitious."
"She sounded serious."
"She usually does."
Matteo nodded and retreated toward the door.
"Matteo."
He stopped.
"Yes, sir?"
"Find out who has been asking questions about the Vale family."
Matteo's expression shifted.
"The Vale family?"
Lucien turned back toward the rain.
"Did I stutter?"
"No, sir."
"Then do your job."
The door closed.
Lucien stood alone.
For several seconds, he watched the city without really seeing it.
Vale.
Eleven years.
He hadn't spoken that surname aloud in months.
It was absurd, really. He had spent years training himself to forget things that couldn't be changed. He didn't revisit old conversations. He didn't mourn opportunities he had missed. He didn't waste time wondering about people who had chosen to disappear from his life.
Yet one memory remained stubbornly alive.
A little girl with untidy hair, scraped knees, and absolutely no respect for personal space.
A little girl who had once climbed through a hole in the garden fence, marched into his family's estate, and announced that he looked like somebody had stolen his birthday cake.
He had been eight.
She had been seven.
And somehow, she had made him laugh so hard that he'd forgotten to be afraid of his own father coming home.
Lucien closed his eyes briefly.
"Serena," he murmured.
The name felt unfamiliar on his tongue.
Not because he had forgotten it.
Because he had spent too long pretending it no longer mattered.
His phone vibrated.
A message from Matteo appeared.
MATTEO: I've located a possible connection. The Vale family will be attending the Aurelian Charity Gala on Saturday.
Lucien read the message twice.
Then he typed a single response.
LUCIEN: Send me the guest list.
He placed the phone on his desk and stared at the screen.
Eleven years ago, a little girl had disappeared from his world.
On Saturday, he might finally discover why.
And for reasons he couldn't explain, the thought unsettled him more than any enemy ever had.
---
SERENA VALE
FRIDAY, 7:16 A.M.
"SERENA!"
A pillow struck the side of Serena's head.
She opened one eye.
Her younger cousin stood beside the bed, looking disgustingly energetic for someone who had no respect for other people's sleep.
"What?" Serena mumbled.
"You're late."
"Late for what?"
"Life, apparently."
Serena pulled the blanket over her head.
"Tell life I'm unavailable."
Her cousin snatched the blanket away.
"Your mother said if you're not downstairs in five minutes, she's eating your breakfast."
Serena sat upright.
"That wicked woman wouldn't dare."
"She said your exact words were 'wicked woman,' so I think she's prepared for war."
Serena stared at her cousin.
Her cousin stared back.
Then Serena threw a pillow at her.
Chaos followed.
By 7:25, Serena was downstairs, dressed in a simple black top and jeans, her hair pulled into a loose bun. She entered the kitchen to find her mother arranging breakfast while talking on the phone.
"Mummy, good morning."
Her mother held up one finger.
Serena immediately stole a piece of toast.
Her mother turned.
"Serena."
Serena froze with the toast halfway to her mouth.
"Yes, ma?"
"Did I tell you to eat?"
Serena glanced at the toast.
Then at her mother.
"Ma, I believe food is a basic human right."
"Put it down."
"You're denying me my rights?"
"Serena."
She put it down.
For approximately three seconds.
Then she picked it up again.
Her mother shook her head, fighting a smile.
"You're impossible."
"I prefer unforgettable."
"Go and prepare for work."
"That sounds like something an enemy would say."
"Serena!"
"Going!"
She escaped the kitchen before her mother could invent new punishments.
This was Serena's life.
Not glamorous. Not particularly extraordinary.
She helped her family where she could, worked hard, laughed loudly, and argued over things that probably weren't worth arguing about.
She had bills to worry about, plans she wanted to pursue, and a future she intended to build with her own two hands.
She wasn't waiting for a wealthy stranger to rescue her.
She wasn't dreaming about marrying into money.
And she certainly wasn't looking for trouble.
Unfortunately, trouble had an irritating habit of finding people who were minding their own business.
Her phone rang as she reached the front door.
An unknown number.
She answered.
"Hello?"
"Good morning. Am I speaking with Miss Serena Vale?"
"Depends. Who's asking?"
There was a brief pause.
"My name is Isabelle Laurent. I'm coordinating the guest arrangements for the Aurelian Charity Gala tomorrow evening. Your family has been invited, and we'd like to confirm your attendance."
Serena stopped walking.
"The what gala?"
"The Aurelian Charity Gala. It's a formal event."
"How formal?"
"Black tie."
Serena looked down at her clothes.
"Then I'm already underdressed."
The woman on the other end laughed politely.
"We would be delighted to have you attend."
Serena hesitated.
She wasn't particularly fond of extravagant events. Too many people pretending to enjoy conversations they would complain about later. Too much expensive perfume. Too many men who thought a luxury watch was a personality.
But her mother would probably enjoy going.
And Serena had to admit that dressing up occasionally sounded fun.
"Let me discuss it with my family," she said.
"Certainly. We look forward to hearing from you."
The call ended.
Serena slipped her phone into her bag and continued down the street.
She had no idea who would be attending the gala.
She didn't know the Moretti family.
She didn't know the name Lucien Moretti.
And she certainly didn't know that, somewhere across the city, a man who had spent eleven years remembering her had just requested the guest list for the very same event.
For Serena Vale, Saturday was simply a party.
For Lucien Moretti, it might be the end of an eleven-year search.
Neither of them knew that someone else had already begun preparing for their reunion.
Someone who had spent eleven years making sure it never happened.
