Dangers in my Heart

Chapter 3

Jennie's POV

The smell of cedarwood lingered in my father's office—a scent that had always been comforting but now carried the weight of his absence. The large mahogany desk stood at the center, pristine as ever, as if he had just stepped out for a moment. Only, he wasn't coming back.

I sat there, surrounded by towering stacks of documents. Real estate contracts, meeting minutes, client proposals—it was all there, neatly labeled and categorized. Too neat, in fact. I ran my fingers over the edge of one folder, pulling it open and skimming the contents. It was flawless. Everything was accounted for, cross-referenced, and color-coded.

It didn't feel normal.

I leaned back in the leather chair, letting my head rest against the cold, high back. Why does this feel like he knew he was going to die?

The thought made my stomach churn. I shook my head and laughed bitterly under my breath. "You're being ridiculous, Jennie," I whispered to myself, trying to dismiss the unease creeping through my veins. But the feeling wouldn't leave.

The Note

Weeks ago, when I had first stepped into this room after his funeral, my hands trembling as I touched the doorknob, I found a note—my name written on it in his sharp, familiar handwriting.

"Jennie," it read, "if you're reading this, then it means I'm no longer there to guide you. But everything you'll need to carry on is here. Look for the blue folder. Don't trust anyone blindly. I know you'll figure it out."

I still remembered the way my vision blurred after reading those words. The tears had come fast, hot, and heavy, staining the paper. His words were practical, yet they felt like a goodbye he hadn't had the chance to say. Or maybe he had.

The memory lingered as I worked, flipping through more files. My chest tightened with every perfect document I found. My father was meticulous, yes, but this was different. It was almost like he'd been preparing for the worst.

The Burden

"Lunch time, Ms. Kim."

Frederic's voice broke through my thoughts. He stood at the door, his usual polished demeanor intact. Frederic had been my father's assistant for over a decade and had become my lifeline in navigating this new world.

"Thanks, Fred. I'll finish this first. You can go ahead."

He nodded, bowing slightly before leaving.

I sighed, glancing at the clock. I hadn't realized how much time had passed. My stomach growled faintly, but the thought of eating felt secondary to the weight of responsibility pressing down on me.

This office was more than just a workplace now—it was a battlefield. Every folder I opened felt like a chess piece on a board I didn't yet understand. My father's empire was vast, and while I was determined to keep it alive, I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to his death than I had been told.

The Questions

Was it just a robbery gone wrong, as the police claimed? Or was there something else? Something darker?

I rubbed my temples, the dull ache of stress pounding behind my eyes. The city we lived in wasn't exactly known for its law-abiding citizens. Gang rivalries ruled the streets, and while my father had kept his business clean, I couldn't help but wonder if he had crossed paths with the wrong people.

I sifted through more files, my fingers pausing over a folder labeled "Special Clients." Something about it felt... off. I opened it, expecting the usual contracts and records. Instead, there were vague notes, partial names, and a few scribbled addresses.

My pulse quickened.

One name stood out—a name I had heard whispered in hushed tones even among the wealthiest circles. Lisa Manoban.

The leader of the Red Serpents.

What connection could my father possibly have had with her?

My chest tightened as I closed the folder. I couldn't jump to conclusions—not yet. But the name alone was enough to ignite a flicker of fear and curiosity. If Lisa Manoban was involved, it was only a matter of time before I would be, too.

The Drive to Uncover the Truth

I took a deep breath, pushing away the rising tide of emotions. I couldn't afford to falter now. My father had built this empire with his blood, sweat, and tears, and I would be damned if I let it fall apart under my watch.

But as I stared at the name scrawled in the folder, a small voice in the back of my mind whispered something I wasn't ready to confront:

If Lisa Manoban had something to do with his death, would I have the strength to face her?