The Heiress's Choice

The Thompson estate gleamed under the soft glow of the evening lights, its towering walls and marble columns standing like silent sentinels over the generations of power it had housed. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of expensive cologne and aged whiskey, the murmurs of New York's elite blending into a sonata of wealth and influence. Tonight was supposed to be just another high-profile fundraiser, but I knew better. Something was brewing beneath the polished exterior of the event, something I couldn't quite place yet. And I hated being left in the dark.

I stood at the edge of the grand ballroom, swirling a glass of champagne I had no intention of drinking, my striking green eyes scanning the room with sharp precision. Near the center was my father, James Thompson-commanding, composed, surrounded by men who whispered fortunes into existence. Beside him, Victor Lang, a viper in a tailored suit, laughed at something I was sure wasn't funny.

My mother, Sophia, stood near the antique fireplace, her posture as rigid as ever. And then there was Liam Chen, lingering too close to the board members, his smile measured, his stance calculating. Something about him had always unsettled me, though I could never pinpoint why.

Rachel Patel, my best friend and legal confidante, slid beside me, her dark eyes filled with warning.

"You look like you're planning a murder," Rachel muttered under her breath.

I exhaled sharply, setting my glass down. "If I were, you'd be my alibi."

"Of course. But something tells me we have bigger problems." Rachel tilted her chin toward my father, who was leaning in to speak with Victor in hushed tones. "They've been at it all night."

My stomach tightened. "What are they talking about?"

Rachel shook her head. "I don't know. But I don't like the way Victor keeps glancing in your direction."

Before I could respond, a voice cut through the noise like a well-sharpened blade. "Annette."

I turned, and there he was-Alexander Lee, the Wall Street billionaire, standing with the quiet arrogance of a man who was used to owning everything he touched. His dark eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that made the air between us hum.

"Alexander," I greeted smoothly, masking my irritation. "What a surprise."

"You shouldn't be," he replied, stepping closer. "We run in the same circles. Your father invited me."

Of course, he did.

"You seem... tense," he observed, his gaze flicking toward where my father stood.

I forced a smirk. "If I am, I can assure you, it's not because of you."

Alexander's lips twitched in amusement. "Good. Because I'm not here for small talk." He leaned in slightly and brushed a finger against my cheek before stepping back, his expression unreadable.

Before I could demand what he meant, an ear-piercing crash silenced the room. My head snapped toward the source of the chaos-a shattered whiskey glass at my father's feet.

His face had gone rigid, his usual mask of indifference slipping for the briefest second. Victor Lang placed a firm hand on his shoulder, speaking low and fast, but whatever he was saying only made my father's jaw tighten further.

My instincts screamed that something was wrong.

I moved forward, but before I could reach my father, Liam intercepted me, stepping directly into my path.

"Going somewhere?" he asked smoothly.

"Move," I snapped.

Liam held up his hands in mock surrender, but his smirk remained. "Easy now, princess. No need to cause a scene."

My patience snapped. "Unless you want me to make one, step aside!"

Liam leaned in and whispered, "Careful, Annette. You don't even know what game you're playing yet."

The weight of his words sent a chill down my spine. Before I could demand answers, a sudden hush spread through the room.

James Thompson, the man who never showed weakness, was clutching his chest.

A gasp rippled through the guests as he staggered, barely catching himself on a nearby chair. My heart slammed against my ribs. Time slowed.

"Dad!" I shoved past Liam, my heels clicking sharply against the floor as I rushed forward.

Rachel was already dialing for an ambulance. My mother's face drained of color. Victor was stepping back, watching with something close to satisfaction.

I reached my father just as he collapsed, barely catching him before he hit the floor. "Stay with me," I pleaded, shaking him lightly. "Dad, look at me!"

His fingers curled weakly around my wrist. His lips parted, but the only thing that came out was a ragged breath. Then his eyes rolled back, and I felt true fear for the first time in my life.

The sirens wailed in the distance, but all I could hear was the sound of my own pulse pounding in my ears.

Then, Victor spoke, his voice slicing through the chaos like a knife. "Prepare yourself, Annette," he said softly. "The empire is about to crumble."

I barely had time to process his words when Rachel grabbed my arm. "We need to talk. Now."

She pulled me toward a quieter corner, her voice low and urgent. "Annette, I just checked something-your father had a full medical checkup two weeks ago. His heart was fine. This wasn't just a health scare."

My breath caught. "You're saying-"

"This was an attack. And someone here orchestrated it."

I swallowed hard, my gaze sweeping the room. Every familiar face suddenly felt like a mask hiding a dangerous secret. My father was barely clinging to life, and I was trapped in a den of vipers.

A shadow loomed over us, and I turned to find Liam watching me with a knowing smirk.

"If I were you, I'd tread carefully," he said smoothly. "The wrong move could be... costly."

I narrowed my eyes. "If you had anything to do with this, I swear-"

Liam chuckled, his amusement infuriatingly casual. "Oh, Annette. You have no idea how deep this goes."

Before I could press him, Alexander appeared at my side. "You need to be careful," he murmured.

"This isn't just about your father's empire. It's about survival."

I clenched my fists. "I'm not just going to stand by and let them win."

Victor's voice rang out again, drawing my attention back to him. "The next move is yours, Annette."