Forbidden Love of the Heiress

------

The night was never meant to be this quiet.

Rain drummed against the sleek wings of the waiting jet, streaking across the silver metal like tears. The private runway of Valmere Airfield was deserted, save for a handful of black-suited bodyguards and one woman standing beneath a storm-black umbrella.

Deborah Valmere.

The name itself could move markets, heiress to the Valmere Empire, darling of dynasties, the only daughter of a family that ruled like modern monarchs. Yet tonight, she wasn’t the immaculate figure of press photos. Her hair clung damply to her temples, and her coat, though designer, was hastily buttoned. She looked like a queen trying to flee her throne.

Her phone buzzed for the seventh time.

[Caelum Valmere — Incoming Call.]

She hesitated. Then silenced it again.

“Miss Valmere,” one of her guards said through the storm, “the jet’s ready. We should go.”

She nodded, but her mind was elsewhere, far beyond the rain and engines. Her lips pressed together as if to keep a thousand secrets from spilling out. She’d told her family she was flying to London for a diplomatic charity event. But she wasn’t going to London.

Not tonight.

She was running, from expectations, from duty, and from the one thing her family would never forgive.

Her heart still carried the taste of a man she was forbidden to love.

Luther Cain.

The enemy. The rival. The danger she could never stay away from.

She was halfway to the jet when it happened.

The headlights appeared first, sudden blinding, followed by the screech of tires against wet concrete. A black SUV slammed to a stop at the edge of the tarmac. Doors flung open, and masked men poured out like shadows given form.

“Down!” one of her guards barked.

Gunfire erupted, sharp cracks swallowed by thunder. Deborah stumbled, falling against the slick ground as chaos broke loose around her. Her guards fired back, but the ambushers were fast, trained, this wasn’t a random attack. It was precision. Professional. Someone had planned this.

A hand grabbed her arm. She screamed, twisting, but the man’s grip was iron. A gloved hand clamped over her mouth.

And then, a single gunshot split the night.

The man holding her crumpled to the ground, a clean hole through his temple.

Through the rain and smoke, she saw him.

A tall figure stepping out of the shadows, dressed in black from collar to gloves. His presence was a weapon, calm, lethal, absolute. The air itself seemed to bend around him.

Luther Cain.

Her heart stopped. For a second, she thought she was hallucinating.

He moved like a ghost between bullets, disarming one assailant, knocking another out with brutal efficiency. Each motion was measured, economical. In less than a minute, the tarmac fell silent again, save for the rain and Deborah’s ragged breathing.

Luther’s voice cut through the storm, cold and steady.

“Get up.”

She did, trembling, soaked, but alive. Her guards were injured, two down. The rest looked at Luther with wary recognition. Everyone in the corporate world knew his face, and his power.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she said, her voice shaking.

He looked at her, rain gliding down his jaw. “And let the Valmere heiress die on my watch? I don’t think so.”

“You—” she took a breath, trying to steady herself. “You’re the last person I should trust.”

“And yet you just did.”

Before she could respond, he grabbed her wrist, not harshly, but firmly enough to make her follow.

“Come on. More are coming.”

---

They sped through the storm in a black car he must have arrived in, the tires cutting through puddles like blades. Deborah sat rigid, her mind racing faster than the engine.

Every headline she’d ever read about him echoed in her head. The Iron Sovereign. The CEO who toppled governments. The man who made the world kneel to Cain Dominion.

And yet here he was, saving her.

The silence was unbearable.

“Did you plan that?” she finally asked, voice low but trembling with accusation.

“Stage a hero’s rescue to earn my gratitude?”

Luther didn’t even look at her. His jaw flexed once. “If I wanted you dead, Deborah, I wouldn’t have done it in the rain.”

Her glare softened into confusion, but not trust.

The car entered a restricted tunnel, leading beneath the city, and finally emerged into the basement of a high-rise overlooking Geneva’s skyline. Luther parked, stepped out, and opened her door. No words, no explanations. Just quiet command.

---

The place was sleek, dark, and cold, glass walls, metal counters, monitors glowing faint blue. It smelled faintly of ozone and rain. A fortress disguised as a penthouse.

Deborah stood by the window, staring down at the city lights. “Why did you save me?”

Luther poured whiskey into a glass but didn’t answer. His movements were too calm, the kind that came from years of danger, of always being three moves ahead.

“Luther,” she pressed, voice breaking slightly. “Tell me the truth.”

He turned then, eyes dark, unreadable. “Because I don’t like watching powerful people die without understanding who ordered it.”

“So this is business to you?”

He smirked, but there was no warmth in it. “Everything is business. Even saving you.”

Her pulse raced. Anger and longing tangled inside her like wildfire.

“You risked everything coming here,” she said quietly.

“So did you,” he replied, “when you fell for me.”

For a moment, silence stretched between them. The storm outside raged harder, lightning flashing across the glass.

He stepped closer, close enough that she could smell the rain and smoke on his skin. His fingers brushed her cheek, tracing the outline of her jaw. The touch burned.

“I told you,” he murmured, “that being with me would destroy everything you know.”

“Maybe I don’t care anymore,” she whispered.

He froze just for a second, and then turned away, as if remembering the walls he’d spent years building.

Before either could speak again, his phone buzzed. He answered without hesitation.

“Yes?” A pause.

“I know. The contract failed. Pull our people from Valmere Holdings.”

Deborah’s heart stopped.

Her voice came out barely above a whisper. “You, what did you say?”

He met her gaze, unreadable. “It’s over. Your family’s project. The merger. Everything.”

“You did this.” Her voice broke. “You set me up.”

“No, Deborah,” he said quietly. “You set yourself up when you trusted a Cain.”

She stepped back, shaking her head. “My brothers will destroy you for this.”

He didn’t flinch. “They can try.”

Her phone vibrated in her coat pocket, a message from Caelum. She opened it with trembling fingers.

[CAELUM: The Cains declared war. Come home. Now.]

When she looked up, Luther was gone, the door wide open, the rainstorm whispering his name as thunder rolled in the distance.

Outside the window, two towers faced each other across the skyline, Valmere Tower, golden and blinding.

Cain Dominion Headquarters, black glass and steel, its logo glowing like fire.

And Deborah stood between them, the crown jewel of one empire, the secret weakness of another. Her heart pounded as the lightning lit the sky. The war of empires had begun. And the first casualty… would be love.