Mag-log inTHIRD PERSON POV The door of the upper wing study closed behind Remy, bringing an end to another four-hour advanced tutoring session. At seven years old, his mind was sharper than most children twice his age, but the weight of the daily routine left him perpetually exhausted. He adjusted his dark blue sweater and walked down toward his bedroom, eager to shut out the world. He was halfway down the hallway when a slim figure stepped out from the side gallery, blocking his path. "Hi, darling." Remy paused, swallowing his annoyance. He forced his face into an unreadable blank as he looked up at the intruder. It was her again. "Do you need anything?" she asked, her voice dripping with a sickly sweet warmth as she reached out, cupping his chin. "Why don't I help you with your homework today?" Remy flinched subtly, jerking his head back to break her grip. His jaw tigh
THIRD PERSON POV On the other side of the mansion, the air in Noah’s study still carried the aftermath of violence.Blood speckled the front of Noah’s rumpled shirt. One corner of his mouth was split. He stood breathing hard, shoulders tight, eyes locked on the man across from him. Mike looked no better—collar torn, a darkening bruise along his jaw, the same raw fury banked behind his stare. They had already gone three rounds of blame and fists. Mike for the niece he had not been there to protect. Noah for the woman and the son he had sworn nothing would touch.The room smelled of sweat and the metallic edge of blood.Mike was the first to speak again, voice rough. “So you’re delusional now. You got my niece killed and you can’t even admit it. Are you that much of a coward?”Noah’s expression did not change. “Aria is not dead, Mike. I know she isn’t. And I will not stop looking.”Something in the absolute certainty of it made Mike’s shoulders drop a fraction. He exhaled hard, the fig
THIRD PERSON POVThe visitation room at the correctional facility was all hard surfaces. Bolted tables, scratched plexiglass dividers, the constant low murmur of other conversations under the watch of officers along the wall. Lora sat in the orange jumpsuit—her face hollowed out, her left hand, still wrapped in thick, stained medical gauze—throbbed with a dull, incessant ache where her fingers had been severed.She had stopped counting the days. Her mother had not come. Jamie had not come. She had begun to believe no one would.When the officer called her name, a thin, irrational hope still rose. Someone had asked for her. Someone still cared.Stephanie Langford was already waiting.She looked more expensive here—tailored coat, clean hair, the faint scent of floral that did not belong in a room that smelled of disinfectant and metal. Her eyes moved over Lora’s prison clothes with open assessment, the corner of her mouth lifting.“Wow,” Stephanie said. “You look… really different.”L
THIRD PERSON POV The cigarette had burned down to the filter. Noah did not seem to notice. Falcon stood on the other side of the desk, hands clasped behind his back, as he delivered the report. “She refuses to confess, sir, no matter the pressure. She still insists she knows nothing. And the police commissioner called again, formally requesting we transfer all the suspects into their custody.” Noah tapped ash into the tray without looking up from the frozen frame on the monitor. Aria, mid-step into a cab, her brows furrowed. He had watched the same thirty seconds more times than he could count. “Let them take her.” Falcon’s head lifted a fraction. In all the years he had served the family, he had rarely heard his young master relinquish a prisoner so easily. “Sir?” “She doesn’t know anything. She’s just a shield for whoever is behind the scene.” Noah said, his voice cold. “Hand all of them over. Then watch every single one. Their calls, their visitors, the people wh
THIRD PERSON POV The floodlights turned the black water into a shifting sheet of silver. Generators hummed. Divers surfaced in rotation, shaking their heads. The head of the recovery team rubbed his forehead with a gloved hand, exhaustion clear in the set of his shoulders. “Mr. King.” the man said carefully, “we’ve been at this for hours. I don’t think she’s still here.” Noah stood at the edge of the embankment, coat collar turned up against the wind. His face was unreadable in the harsh light. “So she survived,” he said. The words came out flat, stripped of hope or question. The man swallowed. Even without seeing Noah’s expression clearly, the aura radiating from him screams terrifying and dangerous. “Not… necessarily, sir.” He finally found his voice. “My men have covered every reachable radius. We recovered the driver two hours in. But Miss Sinclair herself—” He trailed off under the look that settled on him. The commander felt a surge of helpless frustration. He had p
NOAH'S POV I pull a handkerchief from my breast pocket to wipe down my wrists meticulously, then roll my shoulders to loosen the tightness that has settled there since when my mother said Remy was missing. He has been found. Not only but drugged. That is the only reason those people are still breathing. They will talk. Or they will break. Either outcome works for me. I pull my phone from my pocket. The screen lights up with a wall of missed calls. All from Matteo. Twelve of them. The most recent only four minutes ago. Aria. She must be back. My jaw tightens. How the fuck am I supposed to tell her? That our son was taken while I was supposed to be protecting him? That the first test of being his father ended with bruises on his face and a drug in his system we still cannot identify? She will lose her mind. I need her calm. I need her to let me handle it. I will make them pay until there is nothing left of them. I will put Remy back together. I will fix it. She will see th
JAMIE'S POV From the center of the stage, even with the flashing cameras going off like gunfire, I still found her. Aria. And damn, she looked unreal. Aria had always been beautiful. Not just pretty but dangerously beautiful. People stare too long when they see her, I have to glare at them to sh
ARIA'S POV “Then go,” my father growled, standing up from the table. “I disown you as my daughter.” “Don’t say that, dear…” Carolina fake-interjected. “No, Lina. Let her go.” He yelled at her. “You idiot!" He says addressing me. "Was I the one that asked him to dump you, Aria? If you had be
ARIA'S POV The heavy front door clicked shut behind me. I stood on the smooth white marble floor of the foyer for a few seconds, to prepare myself before meetingtheir disgusting faces. Then I heard the laughter again. Louder this time. It was coming right from the dining room down the hall. L
ARIA'S POV I stare up at the towering glass skyscraper of King Atelier. The building is breathtaking—a sleek masterpiece of white marble, brushed steel, and massive glass windows catching the bright sunlight. My dream building. Very soon, my business would surpass this heights. The revolving do







