“Do your job properly. You probably can’t even pull off the seduction part, can you?”

I’m sitting on the edge of my bed, and Troy is nagging at me like a mother—at five in the damn morning.

I’ve barely even opened my eyes, and he’s already badgering me.

“It’s only five o’clock. I don’t have a full plan yet, just a rough outline—nothing to put into action. Can you give me a break? You talk more than my own mother does.” I rolled my eyes, and his expression hardened.

“You don’t have a mother, remember? You’re adopted. So how can you say I’m more talkative than hers?” he said sarcastically.

I scoffed. “Fine. I’ll leave once you’re done. I have a photoshoot later this morning, so can you go now? I need to change. Or are you going to follow me into the bathroom too?”

He sneered at my reply. Troy always seems on edge—constantly angry, always annoyed. There’s no room for compromise; it’s as if I’m not even allowed to rest in my own room.

“Good. Then get to work. And don’t come back here until you look less like a mess—your eyes look exhausted.”

Troy slammed my bedroom door shut behind him. Sometimes I wonder if Troy is actually gay. He acts like such a bitch all the time—worse than any woman I’ve ever met.

But I have no choice except to put up with his attitude and stay focused on my purpose, my plan, and how I’m going to pull off this mission.

I dragged myself out of bed and turned toward the full-length mirror on the wall. I could see my entire reflection: long brown hair, deep black eyes, and a sharp, pointed nose. I looked worn out, miserable, and drained.

What a flattering way to describe myself—but what else can I do? That’s just how I see myself right now.

Today I have a photoshoot and an interview with a magazine sponsor. My schedule is packed. Later tonight, I also have a meeting with my manager to go over the sponsorship proposals he’s reviewed, make any changes I disagree with, and finalize them to send back to the client.

I dressed simply in a black tank top and loose-fitting pants, skipping all makeup. I needed to give my skin a break—later on, I knew I’d be wearing heavy layers of it again.

Once I had everything ready, I turned back to check my reflection one last time, put on my glasses, and headed out.

I decided not to come straight home afterward. If I returned tired and Troy started getting on my nerves again, I’d lose my temper—and I’d probably end up hurting him. Patience runs thin when you’re exhausted.

I opened the door, and Astron was standing there, holding a small case and about to knock. I reached out and took it from him immediately.

“Leaving already?” he asked, glancing at the bag slung over my shoulder.

“Yeah, I’ve got a full day ahead. But I’ll still gather information while I’m out working,” I replied, setting the bag down to take the case he handed me.

I opened it and found a silver handgun inside.

“I thought you’d appreciate this. I picked it up at an auction—it’s a limited edition. It used to belong to the wife of the first-ever mafia family in the world, a gift from her late husband.”

I nodded, admiring every detail of the weapon. It was stunning.

“Wow, it’s beautiful. I’d love to test it out on Troy,” I joked, letting out a small laugh.

But deep down, I meant it—there were moments when Troy pushed me so far that I seriously considered using it on him.

“Take good care of it. Call me as soon as you have any new information. And make sure you come back the day after tomorrow—Papa is calling a meeting,” Astron said.

Behind him stood his younger sister, Mira, who was still alive. She rolled her eyes the moment she saw me.

Mira has always dreamed of becoming a model, but Papa refuses to expose his beloved daughter to the public eye. That’s why I know she resents me more than anyone else—because the career she wants is the very cover I use for my work.

“I’ll be going now. I’ll keep you updated,” I said, walking past them.

My car was waiting outside, surrounded by rows of other vehicles. Seeing them, you’d never guess our organization was struggling at all.

The chaos within our ranks had only just settled, and I still couldn’t understand why Papa insisted on following in the footsteps of the Chuas. The Avignon family was growing more powerful by the day—surrounded by sharp, strategic minds. Standing alone against them felt like suicide.

It wasn’t that I lacked faith in our own family, but going up against the Avignons was terrifying. Still, if Papa saw an opportunity to rise to the top, who wouldn’t want to reach for that kind of power?

But the path ahead felt unclear. It seemed as though the entire future of our family’s success rested on my shoulders. I had to trust my own abilities—they wouldn’t have given me this mission if they didn’t believe I could handle it.

“It’s time to prove myself, Eclipse.”

I closed my eyes briefly, then started the engine and drove away from that suffocating mansion. It was hidden deep in the hills, and it would take a full hour to reach the city.

“You were amazing today, Eclipse!” the photographer and director said as they reviewed the shots. My manager was waiting in the next studio.

This was my final shoot of the day, and the interview had been canceled—the journalist had pulled out at the last minute. Unprofessional, if you ask me.

“I’ll go change now. My manager is waiting,” I said, slipping off the studio outfit and putting my own tank top back on.

“This one would make a perfect cover shot,” they added, pointing to a photo that looked ordinary enough to me.

The theme was modern, casual yet stylish fashion. I just waved them off, grabbed my bag and water bottle, and headed out. I couldn’t help but notice how people kept glancing at me as I walked by—some even stopped mid-step. I’d turn around, wondering why, but figured they probably just found my presence intimidating.

I knocked three times before opening the door to my manager’s office. As I stepped inside, my phone slipped from my hand and clattered to the floor.

Sitting comfortably on the sofa, laughing and chatting casually with my manager, was Christ.

He looked delighted when he saw me, but all I felt was a surge of disgust. Just remembering what had happened last time made me want to pull a knife and stab him right there—no questions asked. Forget playing it safe; I just wanted him dead.

“Here she is! You haven’t met Mr. Avignon yet, have you?” my manager announced.

My eyes went wide in shock. This was the sponsor he’d been talking about all along? Was Christ following me everywhere I went?

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Miss Dela Torre,” Christ said, standing up and offering his hand.

My heart skipped a beat when he said my last name. Did he know exactly who I was—part of the Dela Torre clan—or was I just reading too much into things?

“The pleasure is mine, Mr. Avignon,” I replied, taking his hand.

Instead of shaking it, he lifted it to his lips and kissed the back of my fingers, grinning playfully.

Damn it. It felt like I was walking a tightrope with my life hanging in the balance. But even as my pulse raced and fear crept in, I couldn’t deny it—there was a strange, fluttering excitement building inside me too.