Page 4 of Legacy

Maybe I don’t.

The sky stretches wide and endless above me, a velvet canvas scattered with stars. I tilt my head back and drink it in. I don’t ever want to leave this place. This city, loud and wild, aching with beauty and danger—it’smine. It lives in my chest. It beats in time with my heart. Even now, the music from the ballroom hums behind me, muffled but insistent, like it’s calling me back inside.

A leaf drifts down, brushing my cheek before I catch it between my fingers. It’s the color of spilled wine, deep maroon, threaded with delicate gold veins. I hold it up to the streetlight, studying its edges, wondering if it’s from one of the beech trees at the edge of the hotel. Back in South Florida, leaves don’t fall like this. Everything there is green and humid and heavy.

But here? Here, the seasons change.

The world transforms.

And maybe I will too.

My gaze slides past the gold-trimmed curtains, toward the glittering ballroom inside. The chandeliers shimmer like stardust. The laughter, the music, the whispers; they aren’t mine. Not yet. But they could be.

If I want them.

If I’m brave enough.

The party pulses behind me; a glittering blur of silk gowns, polished shoes, and too-white smiles. Champagne flutes clink like wind chimes in a storm of murmured deals and fake laughter. I’m sure my father is floating through the crowd with that easy grace he’s mastered over the years, nodding, smiling, shaking hands like a king among pawns.

He calls these people his wealthy associates.

But I know better.

In my father’s world, no one is truly free. Everyone owes him something—or they will, soon enough.

The glass door behind me slides open with a whisper of warning, and I tense before I even hear his voice.

“Get back inside,” Luciano says, his fingers curling around my arm just tight enough to bruise if I let him.

I don’t.

I twist out of his grip, careful not to wrinkle the dress I spent hours picking out. It hugs me like a second skin; sweet and daring all at once. It’s the first time I’ve ever worn something that made me feel… like this. Like I could walk into a room and own it.

It’s red, of course.

My Favorite.

I don’t bother responding to my brother. He’s not worth my breath right now. I just lift my chin and walk back into the ballroom like nothing happened.

My heels click against the polished floor, too high for comfort, and definitely unnecessary at five-seven, but I wanted to feel grown. Powerful.Sexy.I regret it now. My feet ache, and I’m pretty sure my left pinky toe is plotting revenge, but I keep walking.

I need a drink.

Yes, I’m underage.

No, I don’t care.

I’m Adriana Scarlet Castillo—hisdaughter.

And no one here is going to stop me.

I cut through the crowd with quiet purpose, people parting like they feel me coming before they see me. That’s the thing about being his daughter, no one makes a pass, no one makes a mistake. They look,sure. But they know better.

I finally reach the bar, slipping into a small gap between two men in suits, and rest my hand on the edge, trying to catch the bartender’s attention.

She doesn’t see me.

Too busy flipping her hair at some older guy at the end of the bar, laughing at something that probably wasn’t funny. I don’t blame her.He’s probably a good tipper. But I’ve been standing here for a full minute, and I’m starting to feel like maybe I don’t belong after all.