REBORN My Second Life I Became The Villianess (Nyxara) novel Chapter 81

After he left I buckled my seatbelt, a few minutes later, the cabin door sealed shut, and the jet taxied down the runway before lifting off into the grey morning clouds. As the Valteri estate shrank into a tiny dot beneath us, I leaned my head against the cool window and let out a quiet sigh of relief. The past few weeks had been a non-stop rotation of poisoned coffee, fake smiles, and wedding planning madness. Escaping to my father's city felt like stepping out of a suffocating room and finally getting a lungful of cold air.

The flight was short, barely two hours, but by the time we started our descent, the landscape below had completely changed. Instead of the quiet, rolling hills and sprawling historical manors surrounding the Valteri property, the city below was a sprawl of concrete, steel, and heavy industrial docks stretching out toward the dark water of the harbor. This was Pedro's turf. Everything down there ran on cash, muscle, and absolute, unquestioned loyalty.

When the jet touched down on a private tarmac tucked behind an unmarked warehouse facility, a line of three black SUVs was already idling on the pavement. Uncle Pascal was standing by the middle vehicle, wearing a dark jacket and sunglasses, looking like he had been waiting there all morning.

I grabbed my bag, walked down the metal steps of the plane, and stepped out into the humid southern air.

"Welcome to the real world, kid," Uncle Pascal said, a wide, easy grin breaking across his face as he walked over and pulled me into a quick, one-armed hug.

"It's good to be out of that house," I said, tossing my bag into the back of the SUV before sliding into the backseat. "Elena is losing her mind over flower arrangements. If I had to look at one more swatch of silk, I was going to throw myself out a window."

Uncle Pascal laughed, climbing into the passenger seat as the convoy pulled away from the tarmac and headed out toward the city center. "Well, get ready, because your old man doesn't do silk swatches. He does ledgers, shipping manifests, and territory maps." Uncle Pascal said.

As we drove deeper into the industrial district, I watched the streets roll by through the tinted window. The buildings here looked rougher, older, and way more functional than the pristine facades back north. Every corner had something moving, trucks hauling cargo containers, dock workers loading crates, and groups of men standing near doorways who clearly weren't just hanging out. They were lookouts. Eyes and ears for the Cruz operation.

"Why does the city seem so quiet?" I asked, keeping my eyes on the street.

"Quiet," Uncle Pascal said, turning around in his seat to look back at me.

"It does and honestly Quiet usually means some smaller outfit thinks they can push their luck while your dad has been busy dealing with stuff up north. They forget who owns these docks."

That was exactly why I wanted to come down here. If I was going to wear the Cruz name and step into that life beside them, I needed to see the gears turning. I needed to see who was trying to bite the hand that fed them, and I wanted a front-row seat to how my father handled a mess.

"Well, I’m here to see the empire" I said softly, resting my chin on my hand.

Uncle Pascal chuckled, turning back around as the SUVs picked up speed, heading straight toward the heart of the empire. The SUVs turned off the main highway and rolled through a set of heavy steel security gates that swung open automatically as we approached.

We were entering a compound, with a massive, enclosed square of industrial brick and reinforced concrete right on the edge of the harbor. It had high walls that were topped with barbed wire and security cameras, which was probably to keep the rest of the city out. While inside, there were men in dark jackets, carrying clipboards and kept a fast, purposeful pace across the asphalt.

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