Chapter 9 Moving Up in the World

Clatter.

Sarah dropped her fork. It bounced off the rickety table and hit the floor, but she didn't notice. She stared at the man in the suit standing in the moldy hallway, her mouth open.

"Five hundred million?" Sarah stammered, the color draining from her face. "The Dragon Emperor Villa? That's the most expensive estate in the whole province! It sits at the top of Zenith Mountain. Only billionaires get past the front gates!"

The broker, sweating under Luke's intense stare, swallowed hard. Helena Frost had given him one order: Give the Supreme Commander the keys, but play along with whatever story he uses, or I'll throw you in the ocean.

"No mistake, Madam," the broker forced a polite smile. "Miss Frost sent me personally."

Luke took the velvet box from the broker's trembling hands. He pulled out the heavy gold key and tossed it onto the kitchen table next to the eggs.

"You can go," Luke said.

"Yes, Mr. Luke! Have a wonderful day!" The broker bowed deeply and sprinted down the hall with his bodyguards.

Sarah stared at the gold key like it was a live grenade.

"Luke!" Sarah grabbed his arm. "What is this?! You said it was a severance package, not a half-billion-dollar mansion! If the Vance family finds out we stole from the Frost Group—"

"We didn't steal it," Luke chuckled, pouring her coffee. He pushed her gently into a chair. "Eat your breakfast. I'll explain."

Sarah crossed her arms, her heart pounding. "Explain."

"Helena Frost is a businesswoman," Luke lied smoothly, his face innocent. "The Dragon Emperor Villa has been empty for three years. She can't find a buyer. An empty mansion rots. The pipes freeze, dust settles, value drops."

Sarah blinked, digesting his words.

"So," Luke shrugged, biting his toast. "She needed a caretaker. Someone to live there, keep the lights on. Since she owed me that prison favor, she offered it to us. It's a temporary loan. We're just high-end house-sitters."

Sarah stared. "House-sitters? For a five-hundred-million-dollar estate?"

"We get a safe roof. Zoe gets a clean room away from black mold," Luke pointed to the peeling walls. "Helena gets free security for her investment. Win-win."

Sarah looked at the gold key. Then at the rusted bucket catching water from the ceiling. At Zoe, happily munching bacon, her pale face lit with innocent joy.

Sarah let out a long sigh. "Okay. If it gets Zoe out of this freezing dampness... I'll be the best house-sitter the Frost Group ever had."

Luke smiled warmly. "I know you will. Now pack. Bring only what matters."

Thirty minutes later, they stood on the curb in freezing rain. Sarah held a single battered duffel bag with Zoe's worn clothes and a few framed photos of her late mother. That was her whole life.

Luke hailed a cheap yellow taxi. The driver took one look at the slums and scoffed.

"Where to, buddy?" the driver muttered, chewing a toothpick.

"Zenith Mountain," Luke said, helping Sarah and Zoe into the back. "The Dragon Emperor Estate."

The driver choked on his toothpick, slamming the brakes. "You kidding?! Look at you! Security at that mountain will shoot my cab full of holes!"

Luke reached into his pocket, pulled out the cash envelope Helena's people left, and tossed a thick stack onto the passenger seat. "Drive."

The driver's eyes bugged out. "Y-Yes sir! Buckle up!"

The taxi sped through the city. The deeper they drove into the elite district, the more the scenery changed. Smog and garbage faded. Towering oak trees, pristine private roads, massive iron gates surrounding properties worth more than small countries.

Finally, the taxi climbed Zenith Mountain.

At the peak sat the Dragon Emperor Estate. Not a house — a fortress. Twenty-foot polished black marble walls. A massive gilded iron gate guarded by a dozen men in tactical gear holding assault rifles.

The taxi driver nervously pulled up to the security checkpoint and parked, sweating.

"This is as far as I go," the driver stammered. "I ain't getting shot."

Luke nodded. "Wait here. I'll open the gates."

Luke stepped out into crisp mountain air. He turned to open the door for Sarah and Zoe.

But before Sarah could step out, a harsh, grating voice echoed across the manicured driveway.

"What in the world is this garbage doing on Zenith Mountain?"

Sarah froze. The blood drained from her face. She knew that voice.

Standing a few yards away, arguing with the armed estate guards, were Patriarch Quinn and Marcus Quinn.

Marcus had his broken arm in a thick white sling. His face was pale and bruised from the hospital, but his eyes burned with arrogance. Patriarch Quinn stood beside him, clutching his dragon-headed cane, holding a briefcase stuffed with cash.

The Quinns hadn't slept. After failing to deliver Sarah to the Vance Patriarch at midnight, they'd spent their whole fortune bribing smugglers to hide them. Now, desperate and terrified of the Vance family's assassins, they'd come to beg the legendary estate residents for protection.

Marcus squinted at the beaten yellow taxi. His eyes locked onto Sarah's ruined wedding dress and Luke's muddy coat.

Marcus's jaw dropped. Then a cruel, hysterical laugh erupted from his chest.

"Grandfather, look!" Marcus pointed his good arm at them. "Look who crawled out of the slums! It's the ex-convict and the little bitch!"

Patriarch Quinn turned. His face twisted in disgust.

"You?!" the old man spat, gripping his cane. "What are you doing here?! This is the most exclusive billionaire neighborhood in the Empire! Here to dig through trash cans?!"

Sarah shrank back against the taxi, clutching Zoe tight. "Grandfather... please, leave us alone."

"Leave you alone?!" Marcus snarled, stepping forward. "Because of you two, the Vance family put a death warrant on our heads! We lost everything! And you bring your dirty, diseased beggar child to a place like this?!"

Marcus turned to the towering Head Security Guard.

"Officer!" Marcus shouted, pointing at Luke. "I'm Marcus Quinn! My family is offering fifty million to speak with the estate owner! But before we do business, do your job! These people are trespassing! Violent, homeless criminals! I demand you beat them and throw them down the mountain!"

The Head Security Guard, a massive scarred veteran, slowly turned his gaze from Marcus to the man in the faded military coat.

The Head Guard's eyes widened. He recognized the coat. He recognized those eyes. The Frost Group had sent the security team an urgent, top-secret photo at 6:00 AM.

The new owner of the Estate. Treat him like a God.

Marcus smirked, crossing his good arm. "Did you hear me, guard? Break his legs!"