Chapter 11 - Caught

She pushes it open. The air inside is cool and smells of expensive leather and sandalwood.

Olivia doesn't turn on the lights. She uses the flashlight on her phone, the beam cutting through the dark like a blade.

She isn't looking for a book. She isn't here to read. She’s looking for a seam in the wood, a keypad, a hidden latch.

She drops to her knees behind Aiden’s massive mahogany desk. Her heart is a drum in her ears. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Her fingers scramble under the lip of the desk.

She feels something. A small, cold metal button. Her breath hitches. This is it.

Click.

A small panel in the wall behind the desk slides open, revealing a digital safe. Olivia’s pulse triples. She reaches out, her hand shaking.

"I told you the North Wing was a sanctuary, Olivia. Not a playground."

The voice comes from the shadows, low and sharp.

Olivia jumps, her phone slipping from her hand and clattering onto the floor. The light spins wildly before landing on a pair of bare feet.

Aiden is standing in the doorway. He isn't wearing a suit. His white shirt is unbuttoned, his hair is a mess, and his eyes are bloodshot. He looks human. He looks exhausted.

"I... I couldn't sleep," Olivia stammers, scrambling to her feet. She tries to hide the open panel with her body. "Your father... what he said about the letters. It’s stuck in my head."

Aiden walks into the room, his movements slow and predatory. He doesn't look at the safe. He looks at her.

"So you decided to break into my private office at 2:00 AM to find them?" He steps into the light. He’s close now - so close she can smell the faint scent of whiskey on his breath.

 "You’re a terrible liar, Olivia."

"I'm not lying!" she fires back, her voice rising with a mix of fear and anger. "My father died with nothing because of your family.

If there are letters that prove he was innocent, I will find them. I don't care about your rules."

Aiden stops inches from her. He doesn't yell. He just looks down at her, his jaw tight. He reaches out, his hand hovering near her waist. 

For a second, Olivia thinks he’s going to grab her, to throw her out.

Instead, his hand moves past her. He reaches into the hidden safe and pulls out a small, leather-bound book.

"You want to know about my father?" Aiden whispers, his voice cracking just a little. "You want to know what it’s like to live with a man who uses people like chess pieces?"

He slams the safe shut. The loud bang echoes in the quiet room.

He looks at Olivia, and for the first time, she doesn't see a billionaire. She sees a boy who grew up in a house made of ice.

"Go back to your room," he says, his voice dropping to a tired rasp. "Before you find something that ruins the little bit of peace you have left."

He turns his back on her, leaning his forehead against the cool wood of the bookshelf. He looks defeated.

Olivia should leave. She should run. But her "Oldest Daughter" instinct - the one that wants to fix everything - kicks in. She reaches out, her fingers just barely touching his arm.

"Aiden..."

He flinches at her touch, but he doesn't pull away. He turns his head slightly, his eyes meeting hers in the dark. 

The tension between them isn't about hate anymore. It’s something else. Something hot and dangerous.

"Go, Olivia," he warns. "Now."

Olivia turns and walks toward the door, her legs feeling like jelly. But as she reaches the hallway, she realizes something.

The USB drive.

She reaches into her pocket. It’s gone. It must have fallen out when she dropped her phone.

She looks back into the dark library. Aiden is sitting at the desk now, the small leather book open in front of him.

And right next to his hand, glowing faintly in the dim light, is her black USB drive.

Aiden picks it up. He looks at it, then looks directly at the door where she’s hiding.

"Olivia," he calls out, his voice deathly calm. "Did you drop something?"

The silence in the library is sharp, like a needle pressing against Olivia’s skin.

Aiden sits at the desk, his face unreadable in the shadows. He picks up the small, black USB drive - the one that contains every bit of dirt Olivia has gathered on his family.

He holds it between two fingers, dangling it in the air like a piece of bait.

Olivia is frozen in the doorway. Her heart isn't just beating; it’s slamming against her ribs. I’m done, she thinks.

He’s going to call the police. He’s going to cancel the medical payments. My mother is going to die because I was greedy.

"This looks familiar," Aiden says. His voice is smooth, way too calm. He looks at the USB, then his eyes snap to hers.

"It doesn't look like a student’s thumb drive, Olivia. It looks like something an auditor uses. Or a thief."

Olivia’s throat is dry. She wants to run, but her legs feel like lead. She has to find a way out. She has to use the one thing she has: her audacity.

"It’s mine," she whispers, stepping back into the room. She tries to keep her voice from shaking. "It has my portfolio on it. My paintings. Digital copies of everything I’ve ever made."

Aiden leans back in his chair. He doesn't look like he believes her. He looks like a cat watching a mouse try to climb a slippery wall.

"Is that so?" He slowly moves the USB toward his laptop. "Then you won't mind if I take a look. I’ve been curious about your... 'art' for a long time."

"No!" Olivia lunges forward, her hand reaching for the drive.

Aiden is faster. He grabs her wrist, his grip firm but not painful. The heat from his skin feels like a brand. They are so close she can see the dark flecks in his eyes.

"Why are you so scared, Olivia?" he asks, his voice dropping to a whisper. "If it’s just art, why is your heart trying to jump out of your chest?"

"Because it’s private!" she snaps, her eyes filling with real tears of frustration. "Because everything I have has been taken by your family! Can I not have one thing that is just mine?"

Aiden stares at her. For a long moment, the tension is so thick it feels like the air might catch fire. He looks at her trembling hand, then back at the USB.

Slowly, he lets go of her wrist and slides the drive across the desk toward her.

"Keep your art," he says, his voice cold again. "But remember the rules. If I find out you’re painting something you shouldn't... there won't be a second chance."

Olivia snatches the drive, her fingers stinging. She doesn't wait for him to change his mind. She turns and bolts for the door.