Chapter 4: The Hook for Silas Croft

Ella Vince's words made the female staff member in front of her freeze.

The woman instinctively sniffed herself, her expression stiffening with embarrassment.

Ella quickly added, "Oh, no—don't get me wrong. I'm not criticizing anyone. He's just… not well. He's extremely sensitive to scents. I heard he spent time somewhere with really poor air quality. Might've affected his lungs."

That "somewhere" was the Shadowlands District—a name that echoed like a ghost from Ella's past life. Silas Croft had once been active in that lawless zone, where breathing itself was a hazard. His health problems weren't exactly a secret… but they weren't common knowledge either.

In her past life, whenever she chatted online with someone close to Silas—someone she suspected was Silas—they'd occasionally drop hints about his condition. When she'd gone to meet him (or rather, meet "his friend"), she'd go scentless—no perfume, no lotion, nothing. Anything too fragrant could set off his coughing fits.

And today… he looked even paler than she remembered.

The staff woman got the message. This wasn't a complaint—it was a discreet, thoughtful warning.

"Thank you, Miss Vince. I'll see to it right away."

She turned and rushed out, intercepting the overly perfumed woman who was supposed to assist Silas. Moments later, a male staff member—clean-cut, cologne-free—stepped in to take over.

Ella watched it all unfold with quiet satisfaction.

She picked up her handbag—inside it, the precious gemstones she'd just retrieved—and walked right past Silas Croft.

She felt his eyes on her. He lingered, just a second longer than necessary. But she didn't turn around.

She didn't need to.

There was still too much to do, and now wasn't the time for a face-to-face conversation. But even in that brief moment, she'd planted a seed. A subtle, almost invisible "hook." A woman who knew his secrets. Who noticed things no one else did. Who cared enough to warn the staff.

Would Silas bite?

She didn't look back to find out.

Back inside the VIP lounge of the Golden Coast Vault—

Silas Croft coughed lightly, knuckles pressed to his lips. The sound was clipped, controlled—but the flush that crept up his cheeks was harder to hide. Even sick, the man carried a kind of haunted beauty. Pale. Fractured. Dangerous.

He took a seat, scanning the documents in front of him—but his eyes drifted, almost involuntarily, to the chair where she had been.

He hadn't seen her face.

But he'd heard her voice. Heard her mention his sensitivity to scent.

How did she know?

No one—not outside his inner circle—was aware of that. The public only knew Silas Croft, heir to the Croft empire. Cold. Calculating. Untouchable. His health? His vulnerabilities? Those were locked down tighter than any vault.

So who was that woman?

Ella Vince… That name had surfaced recently. Rumor had it the Vince family's young heiress—the one who'd been in a coma—had woken up.

Was that her?

Before he could dive deeper into the thought, a staff member entered, carrying a velvet-lined box.

Silas's attention snapped back.

Inside the box was a pair of violet pigeon's-blood gemstone earrings—oval, flawless, rare. The kind of treasure that was whispered about in collector circles.

Silas's expression shifted. His fingers hovered over the stones, trembling slightly.

He remembered these.

And more painfully, he remembered her.

Five years ago, in a black-market auction in Foderia, he'd watched as a woman outbid everyone for those exact earrings. The woman's name?

Ella.

Her smile had been radiant. Confident. "These match me perfectly," she'd said.

She died not long after.

That auction. That smile. That woman… She had haunted him ever since.

And now, against all odds, the earrings were back in his hands.

A coincidence? Or fate?

He had asked his people to investigate their origin. They came from a secure box in this very vault. A box recently opened by its new owner.

Ella Vince.

The same name. The same gem sense. The same chilling presence he'd felt outside the vault.

Could it really be her?

He couldn't stop thinking about her voice. That quiet restraint. That sharp awareness. That distance she carried like armor.

He picked up his phone and dialed.

"Finn," he said, voice low.

On the other end, Finn Croft—his cousin and personal assistant—sounded confused. "Yeah, bro?"

"I need everything you can find on Ella Vince. The girl from the Vince family. The one who just woke up from a coma. She was here today, withdrew something from the vault. I want everything. Now."

"…Understood. I'm on it."

Silas hung up and looked at the earrings again.

Ella Vince…

She reminded him too much of her.

Same name. Same aura. Same instinct for rare gems.

And how had she known the vault only required a password, not ID verification? The original Ella Vince wouldn't have known that. Unless…

Unless she had been part of that world.

The same secret world Silas had buried deep.

He closed his eyes and inhaled. The air still carried the faintest trace of clean, unscented breath. No perfume. No chemicals. Just… something pure.

It unsettled him more than it should have.

He opened his phone and tapped on an app: a private, members-only gem exchange network. His anonymous ID: Cherry Pup.

His favorite online partner—the one who knew every gem, every nuance, every secret code of the trade—went by the handle Lion King.

They'd never met in real life.

But they'd once been inseparable.

Until that last message—

"My life is none of your damn business."

Even now, reading it made his lungs tighten.

He should have insisted. Fought her harder. Dragged her out of that hellhole if he had to.

If he had… maybe she wouldn't have died.

Her chat icon had been grey ever since.

Gone.

But now… a different Ella Vince had walked into his world. One who held his gems. One who whispered his secrets. One who was pulling at threads he thought had long since frayed and vanished.

This wasn't just coincidence.

This was something else.

He stared down at his phone, determination hardening in his gaze.

That woman had cast a hook.

And Silas Croft?

He was ready to bite.