My Daughter Doesn't Know I'm the King

A private airfield on the outskirts of San Francisco. A black Gulfstream jet touched down smoothly, engines roaring. Armed guards lined both sides of the runway. Cold rain hammered their helmets, yet not one of them flinched.

The cabin door opened.

Leon Collins stepped down the airstairs in a black trench coat and combat boots, his face a shade too pale.

Raven had been waiting on the tarmac. Even in standard tactical gear, her figure was impossible to ignore—curves that made her look both dangerous and striking.

She stepped forward the moment she saw him.

"Caesar. Welcome back to San Francisco."

In the underworld, the name Caesar was a forbidden word. Five years ago, the Arbitration Council had pulled Leon out of prison and handed him the White Night Directive. In the years that followed, he dismantled three major criminal empires, shut down a cross-border mercenary war, broke up multiple assassination plots against global power players, and personally ended the Crimson Arbitration—a case that made the entire underworld go quiet. Then, in one decisive move, he folded the world's top assassin networks under his command.

"The thing from five years ago," Leon said, stopping mid-stride. "Where are we?"

Five years ago, Leon had been a rising star in San Francisco's business world—founder of Morningstar Corporation before he was even in his mid-twenties. The night before the company's IPO, his partner Martin set him up. Martin spiked his drink, accused him of assaulting his secretary, and had a swarm of reporters ready to burst in with cameras.

Leon broke through the crowd and ducked into an alley near the hotel. That's where he found a woman cornered by a group of men. He stepped in. But the drug was already hitting hard, and in a state he couldn't control, he ended up sleeping with her—then blacked out.

When he came to, he was surrounded by agents. The woman was gone.

By the next morning, the story had spread across the city. The young CEO of Morningstar Corporation was under arrest for rape.

Now, back in San Francisco, the first thing Leon wanted was to find that woman—the one who appeared at the worst moment of his life. He never got a clear look at her face. But the faint smell of jasmine had never left him.

"My Lord." Raven moved closer. "The network has gone through every surveillance feed and hospital record from that area. We've narrowed it down to three possible targets. The files will be in your hands before noon."

"Good." Leon gave a small nod.

He turned toward the armored car waiting nearby, then stopped. A sharp frown crossed his face. He pressed a hand to his mouth as a heavy cough tore through him.

"My Lord." Raven quickly pulled a white handkerchief from her tactical vest and held it out.

A month ago, Leon had taken serious internal injuries putting down a rebellion inside the council. He'd gone in alone, killed the mercenary commander, and walked out victorious—but not without cost. Afterward, he handed over authority and stepped back.

He took the handkerchief and pressed it to the corner of his mouth. When he pulled it away, dark red stained the white cloth.

He folded it into his palm.

"I'm fine." His breathing steadied. "Take me home first. It's my father's birthday."

Raven pulled the car door open.

The convoy pulled away from the airfield and headed into the city through the rain.

Leon sat in the back seat, watching the streetlights blur past the window. Faces from home drifted into his mind.

Arthur Collins had adopted him. Back then, a scrawny Leon had been pushed around constantly at the orphanage—until a mechanic named Arthur took him in. Arthur didn't have much, but he gave Leon something real. When Arthur's daughter Ava was born later, nothing changed between them.

Leon still remembered how Ava used to trail after him everywhere as a little kid. And Arthur, a few drinks in, would ramble about the day his two children would grow up and he'd marry Ava off to Leon.

The corner of Leon's mouth turned up slightly.

Five years. This family was the only thing he'd held onto. He wasn't going to let anyone hurt them again.

Thirty minutes later, the convoy stopped in front of a worn apartment building on Baker Street. The road was narrow, the streetlights dim and yellow.

"Wait here." Leon pushed the door open and went in alone.

He climbed to the fifth floor and stood outside unit 502. The edge he'd carried all day quietly dropped away. He looked like any other young man.

He raised his hand and knocked.

Footsteps shuffled toward the door. The security door cracked open. A curly-haired middle-aged woman peered through the gap—his adoptive mother, Martha Collins.

"Who is it? We're not buying anything." She stopped mid-sentence. Her eyes locked onto Leon and went still.

Her mouth fell open. The dish cloth slipped from her hand.

"You're... Leon?"

"Mom. It's me. I'm back." He looked at her gray hair and kept his voice low.

"Don't you 'Mom' me!" Martha yanked the door open and raised her voice. "You have the nerve to show up here? Do you have any idea what these five years were like? We couldn't step outside without people whispering behind our backs!"

She shoved at his chest, trying to push him back toward the stairs.

"Get out! Just go! We don't have a son like you!"

Leon stepped back half a pace without resistance. The scandal five years ago had hit the family hard. He knew that.

"Martha, what are you going on about out there? Guests are coming soon—who are you talking to?" An older voice came from inside.

An old man shuffled into the entryway, a pipe in his hand, coughing softly.

Arthur's eyes moved past his wife's shoulder to the figure at the door. He froze. The pipe fell from his fingers.

"Arthur, don't get involved. I'm sending him away." Martha turned her head.

"Shut your mouth!" Arthur's voice cracked like a whip.

He shoved past Martha, stepped outside, and grabbed Leon by both arms. His eyes went red immediately. Tears ran down the sides of his face.

"Leon. My son. Is it really you?"

"Dad. It's me. I'm home." Leon looked at the white hair and answered quietly.

Back then, Morningstar's employees had rushed to distance themselves from him. Even the orphanage he'd funded had cut ties. Arthur alone had drained every cent he had on lawyers and stood outside the police station every day in the cold, holding up a sign that said his son was innocent.

"Come here. You're home, that's what matters." Arthur pulled him into a hug, shoulders shaking. "Where have you been these five years? I went to the prison looking for you—they said you weren't in their system. I thought you were already..."

"There was an incident. They moved me somewhere more secure." Leon patted the old man's back gently. "I didn't do any of it. Not before I went in, not after."

"I know you didn't. I know exactly who my son is." Arthur wiped his face roughly and pulled Leon toward the door. "Come inside. You've lost so much weight—look at your color. They put you through it in there, didn't they?"

Martha planted herself in the doorway. "Arthur, have you lost your mind? The living room is full of family and there's an important guest coming. You want to walk in a convicted criminal right now and humiliate all of us?"

"This is my house and Leon is my son. A son coming home is the most natural thing in the world. Anyone who doesn't like it can get out." Arthur stepped around her and walked Leon straight into the living room.

Laughter filled the room. Relatives packed the sofas and chairs, all of them gathered around one person.

A young man in a fitted suit sat at the center, the watch on his wrist catching the light.

"Julian, Ava's yours to take care of now. Firmament Property's about to go public—once you're running the show, you better treat her right." A relative smiled and leaned in.

"Don't worry. I'll make sure Ava has everything she needs." Julian Klein smiled back.

A young woman was nestled against his side, wearing a pretty evening dress, her arm through his, smiling warmly. Leon's sister, Ava.

Heads turned at the sound of the door.

Ava looked over too.

"Dad, is it the old friend you keep talking about?"

The words died in her mouth.

When she saw the young man in the black trench coat being led in by Arthur, the smile drained from her face.

The man who had brought nothing but shame to this family five years ago was standing right in front of her.

Ava's grip tightened on Julian's hand. She stared at Leon, her voice flat and cold.

"When did they let you out?"