Chapter 4 Whispers of the Founder

The rain returned the next morning, tapping against the bay window like a polite but persistent knock. I sat cross-legged on my bed, staring at the text that had appeared sometime around three a.m.

If you want answers, come to the Winter Garden Café. Alone. Noon. – S.M.

It could've been anyone. But the initials - and the whisper of recognition in my gut - told me exactly who it was. Serena Marlowe.

She'd been a name in the background of my life for years, a shadow in corporate gossip columns and old financial reports. My father had mentioned her once, in a voice that carried both respect and caution.

She's the kind of woman who knows more than she says.

By 11:50, I was walking down East 72nd, the hood of my coat pulled up against the rain. The Winter Garden Café was small and understated, its glass windows fogged from the warmth inside. A bell chimed as I pushed through the door, and the scent of fresh coffee and vanilla wrapped around me.

She was already there.

Serena Marlowe sat in the back corner, her posture perfect, a porcelain teacup poised elegantly in her hand. Her hair was silver, swept back into a chignon, and her eyes were the kind that had seen too much and learned to show very little.

"Elena Cruz," she said as I approached. Not Marina Vale. Elena Cruz.

I froze. "That's not-"

She waved a delicate hand. "Please. I don't play games, and neither should you. Sit."

I slid into the seat across from her, my pulse spiking. "How do you know my name?"

"I knew your father," she said, pouring herself more tea with an ease that felt almost deliberate. "I sat on the Sterling board with him, once. Before... the accident."

The word landed between us like a shard of glass.

"My father's death wasn't an accident," I said quietly.

Her gaze sharpened. "No. It wasn't."

For a long moment, all I could hear was the hum of the café and the soft patter of rain against the window.

"I'm not here to comfort you," Serena continued. "I'm here to tell you something your guardian, your enemies, and the Sterling brothers will not. You are the founder's blood. Direct lineage. Which means you have the legal right to claim controlling interest in Sterling Corp."

My hands curled into fists under the table. "Why would I want that?"

"Want has nothing to do with it," she said smoothly. "The board has been waiting for the right moment to use you. But you're not a pawn, Elena. Unless you choose to be."

I shook my head. "No. I'm not part of their world anymore. I left."

Her lips curved in something that wasn't quite a smile. "The thing about bloodlines, my dear - they don't fade. They call you back."

Her words echoed Victor Kane's, and I hated that.

"Damian knows," she added after a pause. "Adrian suspects. But neither has told you why they're circling. The Founders' Gala is in three months. If you attend, you can either dismantle the empire... or merge it into something far worse."

The air felt thinner. "And if I don't go?"

"Someone else will go in your place," she said simply. "And they will wear your name."

I stared at her, my thoughts tumbling over one another. It was too much, too fast - and yet, some deep, unshakable part of me knew she was telling the truth.

"I'll think about it," I said finally, my voice tight.

Serena nodded, like she'd expected nothing less. "You won't have long."

---

I didn't remember much of the walk back to the academy, only the feel of the rain soaking into my coat and the relentless weight of her words in my chest.

When I reached the dorm entrance, Damian was waiting.

He stood under the awning, one hand in his coat pocket, the other holding a black umbrella. The rain didn't touch him, but his presence felt like a storm of its own.

"You've been busy," he said.

My pulse skipped. "Were you following me?"

"I don't need to follow you to know where you've been," he said evenly. "Serena Marlowe has a talent for drawing people in."

I swallowed. "Why do you care?"

His gaze was steady. "Because she's not on your side."

"And you are?" The question slipped out before I could stop it.

For the first time, something flickered in his expression - not irritation, not cold calculation, but something softer. "I don't want to see you chewed up by this world before you even decide if you want to be part of it."

I didn't know what to say to that.

He stepped closer, the faint scent of cedar and rain clinging to him. "If you ever have questions, you come to me. Not Serena. Not Adrian."

"Why not Adrian?"

His mouth tightened. "Because Adrian will tell you exactly what you want to hear."

Before I could answer, he opened the door for me and stepped aside. "Stay out of the rain, Marina."

---

That night, I couldn't sleep. The city hummed beyond the glass, every light a reminder that somewhere out there, the pieces were already moving.

Around two a.m., my phone buzzed.

Can't sleep? – Adrian Sterling.

I hesitated, then typed back: How did you get my number?

Please. If I can hack the academy's security cameras, I can get a phone number. Meet me in the lobby in 10.

Against my better judgment, I went.

Adrian was waiting by the marble fountain, hands in his pockets, that infuriating grin in place. "You look like you could use a distraction."

"I'm fine," I said.

"You're terrible at lying," he replied, gesturing toward the glass doors. "Come on. There's a place still open where we can get real food."

I told myself I should walk away. That I didn't need another Sterling pulling me into their orbit. But there was something about Adrian's ease, the way he didn't treat me like I was a piece on a board, that made it hard to say no.

We ended up in a tiny all-night diner three blocks from the academy. The windows fogged from the heat inside, the smell of bacon and coffee heavy in the air.

"So," he said between bites of a cheeseburger, "Serena Marlowe. What did she want?"

My fork froze halfway to my mouth. "How do you-"

"I saw you leaving the Winter Garden," he said easily. "Damian's probably already filed it in whatever mental dossier he's building on you."

I set my fork down. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because Damian's good at making you feel like you need him," Adrian said, his tone almost serious. "And Serena's good at making you feel like she knows you. But neither of them will give you the whole truth."

"And you will?"

His grin returned. "Eventually."

I shook my head. "You're impossible."

He leaned back, eyes glinting. "That's what makes me useful."

---

Back in my room, the city lights stretched endlessly beyond the window. Serena's warning. Damian's insistence. Adrian's charm.

They were all playing a game I didn't understand - and somehow, I was the prize.

But I wasn't going to stay in the dark forever.

Not if the Founders' Gala was coming.

Not if my name was the key to the empire.