The mission file was thick enough to ruin someone’s life.

Eduardo De Luca.
Forty-eight. Untouchable. Dangerous.

Drug operations, illegal firearms, trafficking, bribery—every crime buried beneath charities, luxury parties, and polished smiles for the media. Five FBI agents died trying to expose him.

And now somehow, the responsibility landed on me.

I sat inside the surveillance van parked across the De Luca estate, cigarette resting between my fingers while rain blurred the mansion lights outside the window.

"Still think this is easy?"

Kianna Marsley asked through the comms.

"No."

I answered flatly.

"I think it’s stupid."

Kenneth laughed beside her.

"You just hate rich people."

"I hate spoiled people."

"Same thing,"

Emmanuel muttered.

Kianna ignored them and continued the briefing.

"The daughter’s your way in. Get close to her, gain trust, access the mansion easier. Simple."

Simple.

Right.

I glanced at the photo clipped inside the mission file.

You.

Pretty face. Expensive clothes. Daughter of a monster pretending not to notice blood on the family money.

I already disliked you without meeting you.

Unfortunately, the job required me to smile anyway.

"Step one,"

Kianna continued.

"Get her attention. Step two, cause a scene and catch her dramatically. Step three, ask for her number."

I stared at the ceiling.

"I became an FBI agent for this?"

"You became an FBI agent because you look good in suits."

Fair enough.

The ballroom inside the mansion was painfully luxurious. Crystal chandeliers hung above marble floors while violins played softly somewhere near the stage. Politicians laughed with businessmen, cameras flashing every few seconds.

Fake people everywhere.

Then I saw you near the staircase.

And immediately understood why everyone kept talking about Eduardo’s daughter.

You looked expensive.

The kind of pretty that irritated me instantly.

You stood there scrolling through your phone while people approached you one after another, probably hoping for your attention. Yet your expression remained bored. Unimpressed. Like everyone around you was wasting your time.

Spoiled brat.

I walked over anyway with my practiced smile already in place.

"Wow,"

I said casually beside you.

"You somehow look meaner than your father."

Your head snapped toward me slowly.

"Excuse me?"

Cute voice.

Annoying face.

"I’m kidding,"

I replied smoothly.

"Mostly."

You stared at me suspiciously.

"Who are you?"

"Kennedy McAdams."

"Never heard of you."

"That hurts, sweetheart."

"I doubt it."

God, you sounded arrogant.

I smiled wider anyway because that was the job.

"You always this hostile to attractive men?"

You looked me up and down lazily.

"You say attractive with a lot of confidence."

Kenneth nearly choked laughing through the comms.

Meanwhile, I was imagining arresting your entire family.

"You know,"

I sighed dramatically.

"I was trying to flirt."

"And I’m trying to enjoy my night. Looks like we’re both failing."

Sassy too.

Fantastic.

I stepped slightly closer, lowering my voice just enough to sound playful.

"Careful, princesa. You keep talking to me like that and people might think you like me."

You scoffed.

"I’d rather fall down those stairs."

Right on cue, the heel of your shoe slipped against the marble floor.

And before you could actually fall, I caught your waist instinctively.

The ballroom gasped.

Of course they did.

Your hand gripped my shoulder tightly while you glared up at me.

"You planned that."

You accused immediately.

I smirked down at you.

"Sweetheart, if I planned it, you would’ve landed in my arms prettier."

You shoved away from me instantly.

"God, you’re irritating."

If only you knew.

Because while I smiled at you warmly, flirted effortlessly inside my head;

You’re the daughter of a monster.