Rising From The Deep: The Heiress's Wrath

Ivy practically ran to the valet stand. Felix was waiting by the car, looking anxious.

"Where have you been?" he hissed as she slid into the passenger seat. "You were gone for forty minutes."

"I met a lunatic," Ivy said, buckling her seatbelt with shaking hands. "And his sad kid."

"A lunatic?" Felix started the car. "At La Rive? Who?"

"Auguste Randall," Ivy said.

Felix nearly swerved into oncoming traffic. " The Auguste Randall? You met the head of the snake?"

"He tried to pay me to babysit," Ivy said, leaning her head back against the seat. "I refused."

Back at the club, the scene was very different.

Auguste carried the sleeping Ara out the back exit to his waiting armored Maybach. He placed her gently in the car seat, securing the buckles with practiced ease.

Justus Randall, his younger brother and VP, was in the driver's seat.

"Date went well?" Justus smirked, looking in the rearview mirror. "I saw the lady in sequins storm out."

Auguste ignored him. He climbed into the back seat.

"Pull the security footage from the hallway outside the VIP suite," Auguste ordered.

Justus blinked. "Why? Did something happen?"

"A woman," Auguste said. He touched his chest absently. His heart rate was still elevated. "Red dress. Ara... liked her."

"Ara liked a human?" Justus turned around, his jaw dropping. "That's impossible. Ara hates everyone except you."

"She fell asleep in five minutes," Auguste murmured. "The woman hummed a lullaby."

It was a melody that tugged at the edge of Auguste's memory. A hazy, drug-induced memory from four years ago. A rainy night. A woman's soft skin. A song.

He shook his head. Coincidence.

"Find out who she is," Auguste said, his voice hardening. "Everything. Name, address, history."

"On it," Justus said, tapping on his tablet as the car pulled away.

On the highway, the Maybach sped up, passing a black sedan in the slow lane.

Inside the sedan, Ivy looked out the window at the passing car. The windows were tinted dark, impenetrable. As the imposing vehicle swept past, an inexplicable shiver traced its way down Ivy's spine. She dismissed it as the evening chill, her thoughts already turning to the battles ahead.

She looked at Albion, asleep in the backseat.

"They looked alike," she whispered to herself. The little girl's eyes. Albion's eyes.

"Who?" Felix asked.

"Nothing," Ivy said. "Just my imagination."

Felix's phone pinged. "The casting director called. They want to see you tomorrow at 9 AM."

Ivy straightened up. The mother vanished. The actress returned.

"Good," she said, staring at the city lights. "Braeden will be there."

"Are you ready?"

"I was born ready," Ivy said.

In the Maybach, Auguste received a text from the family psychiatrist.

Ara needs a maternal figure for her therapy to progress. The attachment disorder is worsening.

Auguste looked at his sleeping daughter.

"I will find her," he vowed silently. "And I will keep her."