Born To Die

Prologue

Prologue:

It was supposed to be a straightforward business trip. I'd been to Greece once before, but this time I was on the clock—representing the museum, going over acquisitions, you know, the usual. A week in Athens. Easy. A few days in, though, after a long series of meetings, I needed a break. I found myself at a small bar off the tourist track, where the music was softer, the drinks stronger, and the crowd... well, let's just say it felt more authentic than the places my coworkers suggested.

That's when I saw her.

She was sitting at the far end of the bar, alone, her presence somehow commanding the entire room without even trying. The kind of beauty that makes you stop, makes you question reality for a second. Dark, flowing hair, and eyes that seemed to hold galaxies. When she glanced my way, it was like the world slowed down. I'd like to say I was suave, that I approached her confidently, but in truth, my hands were shaking as I ordered my drink.

But she smiled. And that smile? It felt like it reached into my chest and squeezed. She didn't need to say anything, but when she did speak, her voice was like honey—warm, sweet, and utterly intoxicating. We talked. A lot. Too much, probably, because by the time I realized it, hours had passed and the bar was nearly empty.

One thing led to another, as these things do. I'd like to tell you it was something deeper, something more than just the lust that fueled the night, but I was still reeling from how surreal it all felt. The whole night seemed hazy, almost dreamlike. The next morning, she was gone. I told myself it was just a one-off. A wild night in a foreign country. But something about her stuck with me.

It wasn't until I got back to Massachusetts that I realized just how strange things really were. Days later, I couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted. Then, the letter arrived. A piece of parchment, old-fashioned, sealed with wax. I thought it was some museum correspondence until I read the words inside.

A child is coming. She will be yours. I am not just any woman, Richard. I am Aphrodite.

I almost laughed out loud. It had to be a joke, right? Some twisted prank? But deep down, I knew. Somewhere in the depths of my soul, I felt the truth of it.

And that's when my life really changed.

A few months had passed since that night in Greece, and life had returned to its regular, uneventful rhythm. I threw myself back into my work at the museum, convincing myself that everything was normal. The letter from Aphrodite sat buried deep in my desk drawer, unread since the day I received it. I tried to forget about it, about her, but something in the back of my mind kept nagging at me. I couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that my world was about to change again.

Then, one crisp morning, everything turned upside down.

It was a Saturday, and I had barely rolled out of bed when I heard a knock at the door. It was unusual—nobody ever showed up unannounced. I threw on a sweatshirt, ran a hand through my messy hair, and shuffled to the door. When I opened it, the air seemed to freeze around me.

On my doorstep was a small bundle, wrapped in a soft blanket, nestled in a wicker basket. I blinked, thinking for a second I was still dreaming. But the soft coo of a baby snapped me out of it. My heart raced as I knelt down, pulling back the edge of the blanket to reveal a tiny, perfect baby girl, with wide, curious eyes staring back at me.

Tucked into the folds of the blanket was another letter, the same ancient parchment, sealed with wax. My hands trembled as I opened it.

Richard,

This is your daughter, Isla. I have kept my word. Take care of her as she grows, for she will be extraordinary, just as you are. You will see soon enough that her fate is tied to both of our worlds.

Aphrodite.

For a long time, I just stood there, staring at the note, the reality of it all slowly sinking in. This child—this tiny, innocent being—was mine. My daughter. I didn't know the first thing about raising a child, let alone one that had the blood of a goddess in her veins.

But looking down at her, something in me shifted. She wasn't just a reminder of that strange night in Greece. She was more. She was my daughter.

"I guess I'm your dad now, huh?" I whispered, a small smile breaking through the shock. "Isla... I think that suits you."

With that, I picked her up, holding her close, not knowing what the future would bring—but knowing one thing for sure: nothing would ever be the same again.