My Groom Ditched Me, Now I Hunt The Secret Evil Syndicate

After the second call was declined, a third rang through. Out of the corner of her eye, Natalie Alexander caught a single word glowing on Grey Ford's phone screen: “Kaiya.” She filed the name away.

Grey silenced the call again, turned the phone face down on the table, and offered Mrs. Hudson an apologetic smile. “Telemarketers. Loan offers.” He shrugged it off like it was nothing.

Mrs. Hudson huffed, clearly not buying it. “You need to steer clear of those wild friends of yours. You're a married man now—time to settle down.”

“Yes, Grandma. I know.” Grey answered like a dutiful grandson.

Their coffee lingered on for nearly an hour. When they finally got up to leave, Mrs. Hudson caught Natalie's hand and wouldn't let go. She pressed a set of car keys into her palm. “The white car at the far end of the garage. It's yours to get around. If Grey tries to make you take the subway, you come tell me.”

Natalie took the keys with a grin.

Outside the main gates, Grey leaned against the car, looking a little sour. “That call,” Natalie said, walking up and tucking the keys into her purse. “Who's Kaiya?”

Grey glanced at her, something complicated flickering across his face. “My cousin.”

“You have a cousin?”

“Cousin,” he repeated, opening the car door. “Kaiya Ford. She's from the main branch. Grew up with my grandma, but... something happened later. She's in a psych hospital now.”

Natalie slid into the passenger seat and buckled up. “What happened?”

Grey started the car. Silence stretched between them. “She said she saw something she shouldn't have,” he finally said, pulling away from the estate. “Four years ago, when I was out cold in Arizona, Kaiya went to Southeast Asia looking for me. She got there before I did and walked right into a secret deal. Ever since, she's been... off. Swears someone's after her. Says invisible people are following her.”

Natalie tapped her fingers lightly against her knee. “Which hospital is she in now?”

“Eastside. Connington Asylum.” Grey cut her a sidelong look. “Why? You want to visit her?”

“Yes.”

“You shouldn't.” His tone went hard. “Doctors say she needs rest. Outsiders just set her off—”

“Grey.” Natalie cut him off. “She's your cousin. Aren't you curious about what she actually saw?”

Grey's mouth tightened into a thin line. The car stopped at a red light. His grip on the wheel tightened, then slowly eased. Finally, he let out a resigned whisper. “I've spent four years digging. Found nothing. Every time I visit, she says the same thing—”

“What does she say?”

Grey turned, meeting Natalie's eyes. “She says, ‘Brother, there’s a woman named Alexander, and she’s not human.’”

A heavy silence filled the car for several seconds.

Then Natalie let out a soft laugh. “There are plenty of people named Alexander.” She adjusted the air vent, redirecting the airflow. “Surely you don't think she means me?”

Grey didn't answer. The light turned green, and he shot through the intersection.

Natalie leaned back, watching the city blur past her window. Her fingers moved silently on her knee, tracing a symbol—a Silver Wing internal sign, shaped like a falling feather.

Kaiya Ford. Four years ago. Southeast Asia. Secret deal. She threaded the clues together, sketching a mental line. If Kaiya really saw something she shouldn't have, and the clandestine organization hadn't made her “disappear” all these years, there could only be one reason: whatever Kaiya saw was beyond their control.

So whose was it?

Natalie closed her eyes. This was turning out to be far more intriguing than she'd expected.

When the car stopped at a crossroads, Natalie opened her eyes. “Where to?” Grey asked, fingers drumming softly on the wheel.

“The Alexander Group.”

Grey turned to look at her. “Your dad's place?”

“Yeah. I still have some unfinished business.”

Grey didn't ask more. He flicked on the turn signal and headed toward Alexander Group headquarters.

Silence filled the car for a moment before Grey finally spoke, like he'd been holding it in too long. “That shipment... how much do you know?”

“Which one? The Northern Southeast Asia route or the Eastern Europe line?” Natalie asked offhandedly, fiddling with the air vent. “If you mean the Southeast Asia shipment, your trusted courier “Venom Hornet” was intercepted halfway. There was a mole beside him. Last name Zane, nickname “Fly,” driving the second truck. He took fifty grand from the clandestine organization and sold out the route.”

Grey slammed the brakes so hard the car lurched, earning angry honks from behind. He got back up to speed fast, his expression shifting drastically. “Fly? Zane Pinn? He's been with me seven years—”

“People change,” Natalie said matter-of-factly. “He has a wife and kids. Last year, his daughter was diagnosed with leukemia. Eighty grand for treatment. What you paid him wasn't enough.”

Grey's hands gripped the wheel until his knuckles went white.

“Why didn't you tell me sooner?”

“I only married you last night.” Natalie turned to him, a teasing smile playing on her lips. “Were you expecting a full briefing on our wedding night?”

Grey was momentarily speechless—but he couldn't exactly argue. After a beat, he admitted quietly, “That shipment contained vaccines.”

“What?”

“It was disguised as weapons, but it was actually cold-chain vaccines. Communities in Southeast Asia were facing a dengue outbreak. They desperately needed medicine. I sent them through the weapons route for safety, to avoid inspections.”

Natalie went quiet for a moment, reappraising Grey's profile. Morning light streamed through the window, catching the sharp line of his jaw. Those eyes, usually full of mischief, now held a focus she'd never noticed before.

“Those vaccines,” she said, “were taken by the clandestine organization and sold at a markup as ordinary drugs on the local black market. Tripled the price—a single community couldn't afford them.”

Grey's lips pressed tight.

“So your urgency isn't about losing a shipment worth millions.” Natalie's voice softened. “It's the fear that those communities won't get the medicine they need.”

Grey neither confirmed nor denied it.

The car pulled up to the Alexander Group building, and he pulled the handbrake. “Go handle your business. I'll wait here.”

“You're not coming up?”

“I want no part of your family's mess.” Grey replied, a cigarette dangling from his lips, unlit. “I'll be here. Call me if you need anything.”

Natalie got out, but after a few steps, she turned back and tapped on the window. Grey rolled it down. “Cut back on the smoking,” she said. “Your lungs aren't great. You inhaled toxic gas in the rainforest four years ago. Don't think I don't know.”

The cigarette slipped from Grey's lips onto his lap. Natalie was already walking away.

The Alexander Group wasn't a major enterprise, but it was a mid-sized publicly traded company dealing mainly in construction materials and real estate. Over the years, Bella Cunningham and her brother had bled it dry. Polished on the outside, falling apart on the inside.

As Natalie walked into the lobby, the receptionist blinked in surprise, quickly recognizing her. “M-Ms. Alexander?”

“I'm here to see my dad. Is he in?”

“He's in a meeting upstairs...” the receptionist stammered.

“Perfect.” Natalie headed straight for the elevator. “Which meeting room?”

The receptionist followed a few steps. “Twenty-third floor! But Ms. Cunningham is also—”

The elevator doors closed.

On the twenty-third floor, Stephen Alexander was surrounded by a group of board members, sweat beading on his forehead. The Alexander Group had two projects with broken capital chains, and the bank was pressing hard for loan repayments. Bella's brother, Lin Jianye, lounged at the far end of the long table, scrolling through his phone like he didn't have a care in the world.

“Mr. Alexander, if we don't have the funds by next month, we'll have to start bankruptcy proceedings,” said a bespectacled middle-aged board member, adjusting his glasses. “The twelve million pounds promised are accounted for, but there's still a six-million gap. We need a definitive answer from you.”

Stephen wiped his brow. “Give me another week. I'll find a way—”

“I'll handle it.”

The meeting room door swung open.

All heads turned. Natalie stood in the doorway. She wore a Victorian-style dress tailored to modern sensibilities—too gentle, it seemed, for a boardroom. But as her gaze swept over each face, even Lin Jianye sat up straight on instinct.

Stephen was taken aback. “Natalie? How did you—”

“Dad, have a seat.” Natalie moved to the head of the table, set her laptop down, and opened it. “Good afternoon, directors. I'm Natalie Alexander, Stephen's daughter. I have a solution to our current financial shortfall.”

Lin Jianye chuckled. “You? A girl fresh from abroad. Do you even—”

Natalie looked at him.

Her gaze was calm. No different from the one she'd given Grey the night before. Yet it sent a chill down Lin Jianye's spine, cutting him off mid-sentence.

Natalie turned her laptop screen toward the room. “The company's largest losses stem from the Southside development project. The land acquisition evaluation report was ‘optimized.’” She emphasized the word, glancing at Lin Jianye. “In reality, the geological conditions were at least two grades lower than reported. Underground caverns tripled the foundation costs.”

“That's nonsense—”

“Mr. Lin,” Natalie interrupted calmly. “The original engineering assessment report is in your office safe, isn't it? Left side, second compartment. The combination is your daughter's birthday. Shall I have someone retrieve it?”

Lin Jianye paled instantly.

The meeting room erupted in murmurs.

Stephen stood abruptly, glaring at Lin Jianye. “Jianye! Did you tamper with that report?”

“Brother-in-law, let me explain—”

“Enough.” Natalie closed the laptop. “Mr. Lin, the six-million shortfall is the exact amount you ‘borrowed’ from the company's books. Return it within three days, or I'll send the original materials straight to the financial conduct authority. Now, please leave.”

Lin Jianye opened and closed his mouth, then reluctantly left under the watchful eyes of the board members, shooting Natalie a venomous glare as he slammed the door.

The air in the meeting room lightened.

Natalie spent twenty minutes laying out the next steps with unhurried, clear logic. At the meeting's end, several directors approached her, shaking her hand, their eyes holding a newfound respect.

After everyone left, Stephen sat in his chair, his expression torn between pride and confusion. “Natalie,” he called after her, “where did you get those documents?”