N City.

Under the glowing city lights, the luxury yacht “Prometheus” cruised slowly across the Lijiang River. Onboard, the wealthiest elites from across the country mingled, their laughter and clinking glasses blending into the night breeze.

“Mr. Lawson, heard you just landed another big deal? And with a firm from M Country? Congrats, man.”

Graham Lawson raised his wine glass with a relaxed smile. “It’s just a government project, nothing major really. You flatter me.”

He drained the rest of his red wine in one go and placed the empty glass on the tray of a passing server. He reached out for a cocktail, only to find more red wine. “Get me a gin and tonic.”

The server gave a quick, subtle glance before nodding quietly, “Right away.”

Graham frowned slightly. This server barely reached his shoulder, looking small and thin, always with a hunched back and eyes downcast. For a yacht this high-end, couldn’t they hire some decent-looking staff?

Still, he didn’t give it much thought and let the odd server walk away.

The server weaved through the crowd and headed below deck. Once sure no one was around, she pulled off her cap, revealing a stunning face—fox-shaped eyes, a sharp nose, soft pink lips—definitely a woman.

Violet Summers lifted her hand, pushing up a long sleeve that covered most of it, revealing a sleek black watch. A quick swipe across the screen made it glow dim blue, and a voice buzzed through her hidden earpiece. “Yo, Violet, what’s it looking like in there?”

“It lives up to its reputation—luxury on another level.” Violet chuckled. Rich folks sure knew how to enjoy themselves. “Victor Chandler’s on the third level, which is locked down tight. You need a special keycard to get through, and armed guards are posted at every exit. Judging by their gear... I'd say mercenaries.”

“Mercs?” Dexter Gates chewed his gum as his fingers flew over the keyboard. A moment later, he found a clue. “Yeah, they posted a recruitment ad on the deep web a week ago. Looks like a group called Black Shark took the job.”

Black Shark. She’d heard of them when she was in Africa. They were ex-guns-for-hire for shady types—not known for skill, but for being ruthless and totally off the leash. No one liked doing business with them.

Still, Violet didn’t want to stir up trouble.

“I’ll find my way in. You work on taking over the yacht’s control system. Wait for my signal.” After cutting the comms, she tilted her cap down again and started walking toward the hallway at the end.

“Let me go!”

She halted as a shout came from the right side. Peeking around, she spotted a girl sitting on the floor, two men dragging her by the arms, clearly forcing her upstairs.

A loud slap cut through the air, silencing the struggling girl. One of the men growled, “Shut the hell up and behave!”

The girl froze a second, tears welling up as she cried, “Why me? Why does it have to be me?! Is this Scarlett’s doing?!”

The men looked at each other and laughed like she’d just told a joke. “Wow, you're really that clueless? Lily Fraser, your dad handed you over to Mr. Sinclair! Even Scarlett’s jealous—do you get how lucky you are?”

One of them crouched down and grabbed her chin, grinning. “If you weren’t still a virgin, you wouldn’t even get a shot at this. Make him happy, and life’ll be smooth sailing. If not, we could always toss you off the side right now.”

Mr. Sinclair? Violet squinted. In this country, the only one called that would be Adrian Sinclair himself. And if he was here, third floor’s gotta be where he is.

A sly smile crept onto Violet’s lips. She’d been racking her brain on how to get upstairs without triggering alarms—guess the opportunity just fell right into her lap.