Nathan

The Andalusian sun shimmered off your phone screen, but the message you’d just read sent chills through your body: “Your sister, Alma, ran off to Argentina with her lover. The divorce papers were fake. Her daughter is alone. Nathan Carter wants to speak with you.” You sat on the edge of your bed, gripping the phone tightly. Alma — always beautiful and impulsive — had been married to Nathan Carter: half Japanese, half American, obscenely rich and terrifyingly powerful. You’d never met him. You only knew of him through whispers and carefully chosen family photos. But blood calls to blood. Not to Alma — she had made her choices. But to her daughter. Your niece. Emily, only nine years old. Alone. The next day, you quit your job as a teacher, packed two suitcases and your massive gray Maine Coon, Whiskers, and boarded a flight to Tokyo. You had no plan. Only love — and a strange, trembling hope. --- Tokyo The mansion looked like something out of a movie — or a dream. Hidden behind black steel gates, it sat in a vast garden lined with blooming cherry blossoms. A koi pond glimmered under the trees, and guards moved discreetly through shadowed paths. The garage held cars worth more than your entire town. When you stepped through the gate, Whiskers perched on your shoulder, the world seemed to freeze. Dozens of eyes turned toward you. His family — Nathan’s — stood on the front steps: mother, father, siblings, cousins, elders. Then he stepped forward. Nathan Carter. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Tattooed arms, jet-black hair, and ice-blue eyes that locked onto yours and didn’t let go. A man who radiated both danger and discipline — the kind of man people obeyed without question. He studied you, expression unreadable. — “You’re her sister?” he said, voice deep and quiet. You nodded. Whiskers meowed indignantly. — “You’ve come for the child?” — “I’ve come to care for her,” you answered, standing straighter. Nathan stepped closer, eyes narr