Damon“Is everything alright here?”Mum. Of course.“Yes, Mum. Why wouldn’t it be?”“I just noticed you both weren’t in the sitting room and thought I’d check in,” she says.Just as I’m about to speak, Ava cuts in. “Yeah—I needed an escape from Grace’s endless questions. Is she always like that, or am I just lucky?”“Oh, dear. She’s always been a sour one. You’ve got to be careful around her,” Mum says, slipping into an easy rhythm with Ava as they walk off together.One minute she’s furious and throwing slaps, the next she’s in full character. I really did make the best choice for an actress.“Sweetheart, you’re just going to leave me standing here?” I call out, stopping them.“My love, quit whining. A few more hours and you’ll have my full attention,” Ava says, then ambles back over. With a soft smile, she brushes her lips against mine in a tender kiss, catching me completely off guard. It’s brief. Soft. But it sends a stupid, involuntary jolt through me, like my lips haven’t gotte
Damon“She’s gone.”What??!“What the hell do you mean by that, Leo? What happened? You were supposed to watch her, dammit,” I curse through the phone, barely keeping it together.“She was right here. I briefly stepped away from the door to check with the other assignment you gave me. The other guys were on their brea—”I cut him off before he can finish. “For fuck’s sake, Leo! This is more important than any other task I send your way. You better find her. NOW!”My voice booms through the line. “The freaking instruction was ‘Man her door at all times!’ I say one thing! One! And you all decide to do the opposite!” I end the call before I say something worse.Ava. Ava. Ava.I should’ve known. Should’ve predicted it. She’s always been like this—impulsive, unpredictable. But I didn’t think she’d actually do it. Not this time.Where do I even start? What kind of story can I manufacture to Father? Those vultures at home already think she’s a fake– just a pretty face I pulled in for appeara
AriaHow he manages to get under my skin is something that’ll probably take me a while to understand. He’s lucky I haven’t figured out a way to reach Ava. Contract or no contract, I’d have been long gone.Accusing me of seducing his brother? How low could he possibly go? I feel both satisfaction and regret from the way I acted—slapping him.Nobody should have the power to rile me up. Not like that. Not in public.I’ve always been the one to respond with indifference and calmness, rather than lashing out. But ever since I woke from the coma, I’ve been reactive. I never knew I had it in me—until the ill-fated day I met Grumpy.Time and time again, I surprised even myself.For the first time, Damon was at a loss for words. And why?A kiss.In that moment, as I waltzed over to him with a fake smile plastered across my face, I had no idea what I was doing.But the closer I got, the clearer it became.Shut him up with a kiss. And I did. Just lightly—but I did.I caught the look of surprise
Aria Light penetrates my eyes before I even open them.It's crisp and clinical, and everything smells like antiseptic and plastic. There’s a quiet hum beneath everything—machines, perhaps. The continuous beep of a monitor next to me confirms something I don't want to admit.Hospital. Again.I try to move, but my arms fail me. There's an IV in the back of my hand.I open my eyes.Fluorescent ceiling tiles hang above me. A hanging drape is drawn halfway around the bed, and a hard sheet covers me up to my chest. My body feels as if it has been dropped down a precipice and then regretfully sewn back together.My lips are dry, and my tongue tastes like metal. When I try to speak, all I manage to let out is a cracked, hollow rasp.The memories come in fragments.Running. The park. Barking dogs.Damon—shouting, furious.His tight grip on my arms. Me yelling.Then the ground. A jolt. Everything turning black.The monitor beside me spikes with my heartbeat.The door swings open, and Dr Jenna
AriaThe next few days pass faster than I expect. That might be because of the steady stream of pain meds, or maybe it’s the simple rhythm of hospital life—nurses in and out, vitals checked, food trays delivered like clockwork. Still, nothing distracts me quite like the fact that Damon keeps showing up.Every. Single. Day.He never says he’s coming, but he always does. Always around the same time, too—like he’s scheduled it between corporate meetings and brooding in penthouses. And he's always armed with something—food, water, a sarcastic comment.“You’re looking less like a corpse today,” he says one morning, dropping a bag of takeout onto my tray table.I narrow my eyes. “Charming.”“Not trying to charm you. I'm trying to make sure Mother doesn’t notice you’ve lost an ounce.” He unpacks the container like it were a normal part of his life. Like, feeding me was just one more business obligation. Well, it was.I watch him closely. There’s a twitch in his brow when he thinks I’m not pa
DamonLetter?Who the hell still writes a letter?It’s not the kind of thing that shows up in this house. Not with my systems, my protocols. Everything’s monitored, filtered, and controlled. That’s the point. So when the maid shoved the envelope into my hand earlier, it barely registered. Some PR stunt, probably. A thank-you from a client’s assistant. But now, standing in the dim hallway, my eyes catch the opening line, and every muscle in my body locks up.Hey Aria,It’s been a minute.How is he treating you?A low buzz floods my ears.I’m asking because it’s important. To me.I can always come to your rescue. I know you're trapped.The words turn razor-sharp.Now, don’t rack your head with thoughts, my darling.You don’t know who I am. Or do you? But, rest assured, I know you. I see you, and I know your struggles. Be good. I’ll keep in touch. Don’t ask how. I’ll see you before you see me.Till next time—whenever that is.The paper rustles in my hand as I lower it.What the act
AriaEverything feels heavy. Limbs, eyelids, even thoughts. There’s a hum somewhere—soft, constant. A vent? Maybe. My eyes open slowly to a ceiling I don’t recognise. Smooth, white, untouched.This isn't my apartment.The bed is too soft. The sheets are too crisp. Light spills in through pale curtains, warm and golden. The room’s beautiful, like something out of a lifestyle magazine. Pale blue walls. A fancy headboard. Everything is perfectly arranged. Too perfect.A slow breath in. My throat is dry. My body aches like it’s been asleep for far too long. Maybe it has.What... happened?Pieces start to click into place, but they come slowly. Disconnected.Damon. His voice. The letter.God, the letter.Hey Aria, it’s been a minute.The words replay, dripping with familiarity and malice –the strange, almost intimate tone. I remember Damon reading it, and his expression hardening. My stomach turning. The blood draining from my face. Then—Darkness.I blink and sit up, head pounding. The we
AriaShe stands at the top of the stairs, arms gently crossed, with a look on her face like she’s stepped into a memory. Her smile stretches wide, full of warmth and some quiet amusement, like seeing me is the final piece of a puzzle she’s waited years to complete.I pause, one foot still on the step. Her presence feels out of place—like I walked into someone else’s story.“Who are you?” The words come out sharper than I mean them to.“Oh, my darling,” she says, voice light and familiar, “you wouldn’t know me.” She starts down the stairs, moving like the place still remembers her. “I’m Eunice. Just got back this morning.”I squint slightly. Nothing about her rings a bell.“I’m not following. Got back from where?”“I’ve served the Stone family for over twenty years,” she says with a kind of nostalgic pride. “Took a break to tend to my health. But now I’m back.”Something in her voice carries history. It pulls me in despite myself.“Nice to meet you,” I offer. “I’m Aria.”She touches my
AriaThe Vancouver skyline stares back at me, cold and smug through the tall glass windows. We’re at the top floor of one of Damon’s luxury hotels—his name, his money, his power carved into every inch of this place. But for all the luxury, it feels more like a cage than ever. A prettier one, but a cage nonetheless.The room is ridiculous. Opulent. Sleek floors, floor-to-ceiling glass, m everything. A bottle of wine rests untouched on the coffee table. Our suitcases sit side by side near the closet like they’re in a truce we can’t manage.And I’m pacing.My phone buzzes. Again.Derek: Still in town. Can we catch up? I hesitate, thumb hovering.Me:Unfortunately not. We can catch up right here.Damon steps out from the bathroom, sleeves rolled, watch glinting against his wrist as he fastens it. He hasn’t said much since we landed. Not about the trip. Not about the room. Not even about the last time we spoke.Just a clipped, "Dinner. Twenty minutes. Dress accordingly."Like we’re here fo
DamonIt’s still early when I walk into our adjoined room. Not quiet, not loud. Just the kind of silence that means she’s inside—maybe awake, maybe pretending not to be.I pause by the door that connects our rooms, knock once. No answer. Doesn’t surprise me. She’s made it a habit lately to answer when she feels like it, not when I ask. I reach for the handle anyway and step in.She’s by the window, back turned to me. Sunlight touches her hair, giving it a bronze tint. Her posture’s stiff, too still. She heard me. She’s just not in the mood.Figures.“We’re leaving tomorrow,” I say flatly. “Pack enough. It won’t be a short trip.”No response. Not even a twitch.I let the silence hang, let her fill it or ignore it. The power play doesn’t matter today.“The security logs were compromised again,” I add. “It’s worse than the last time.”Now she moves. Just barely. A shift in her shoulders. “So this is what now? Another emergency evacuation?”“Something like that.”She finally turns, arms c
DamonShe doesn’t slam the door behind her.That’s how I know she’s angry.She slams doors when she’s trying to make a point. Not when she’s actually pissed. This silence? This quiet exit back into her own space? That’s worse.The adjoining door clicks shut, and the room feels colder.I let out a breath I hadn’t realised I’d been holding and stare at it for a second longer than I should. It’s just a door. A wall with a handle. But tonight, it might as well be a damn fortress.It’s not like I didn’t see this coming. Every move she’s made since Kingsley’s told me exactly what page she’s on.But it doesn’t make it easier.I tug at my collar. The shirt feels tighter than usual. Everything does lately. I’ve barely settled in since we got back, and I already feel suffocated. The walls of this house, of this arrangement, all closing in.I cross to the bar, pour two fingers of scotch into a glass, and let it burn down slowly. It doesn’t help much.She hasn’t said as much as I know she would w
DamonThe silence in Kingsley's guest bedroom is deceptive.Aria's breathing has evened out, soft and rhythmic. She’s asleep again, but my mind is wide awake, refusing to rest. The ceiling stares back at me like it expects me to explain myself. It knows what I did and is daring me to justify it.She’s right beside me—warm, steady, impossibly close. The same woman I convinced myself to hate. To control. To manipulate.And I let all of it unravel. Just like that.One night. One touch. And I dropped the mask. It wasn’t supposed to happen. It wasn’t part of the plan.I shift slightly, keeping still enough not to wake her. Not yet. I don't want her to open her eyes and catch the guilt written all over mine. Guilt I can't afford.Not when I’ve already made a decision: I’m not letting her go. Contract or not. Not when the damage is already done.I just chose all this while not to see. She was never Ava.It’s not just the way she moves or how she speaks. It’s the way she fights back, even w
AriaI don’t know when sleep finally pulled me under, but I know the weight in my chest hadn’t lifted when it happened. Maybe I passed out more than drifted off—from exhaustion, from anger, from confusion. From the ache of feeling stupid again.My body aches in strange places. Not from pain—at least not entirely—but from memory.Last night comes crashing back. The weight of him. The heat. The way my own body betrayed me. Not that it was forced—no. That’s what makes it worse. I let it happen. I wanted it. Wanted him. In that moment, and maybe longer than I would want to admit.It was good.Too good.Better than anything I'd ever experienced before, which says less about him and more about the sad collection of men from my past.Still, waking up feels like being dropped right back into the mess I was trying to escape in the first place. The thoughts from the night before creep back in like shadows across the ceiling. That sting of feeling stupid. Used. And most of all, ignored.He didn’
DamonDamon freaking Stone.What now? What next?The ceiling stares back at me as my chest slowly rises and falls. Each breath steadier than the last, but not enough to calm the chaos inside.I can still feel her on me. Around me. I don’t dare look in her direction. If I do, I’ll give myself away—and not just with my eyes. The tight rein I've kept on this storm inside will snap, and I can't afford that. Not right now. Not yet.Because now, it’s clear. As clear as the silence hanging in this room.She isn’t Ava. Never was.I always had my doubts. From the way she spoke, to how she carried herself, to how she'd look at me—not like someone with history, but like someone new. But tonight? It sealed it. The way her body moved with mine, how she reached for me, the rawness of it—no calculation, no manipulation, just... raw.Unfiltered.Honest.It was never like that with Ava. There was always an angle. An agenda.But her?Aria?She was shaking. Trembling beneath my hands. Like every touch m
Aria “No, Damon!” I snap. “Don’t you dare. I never had you. Not really. I had a jailer. A freaking captor. A man who dragged me out of a hospital bed and threw me into this freaking cage!”He flinches. Just slightly.But it’s enough.“And I fought. Every damn day. I tried to hold on to what little I remembered. To what I felt. To my name. But you crushed all of it under your suspicion.”“You could’ve died out there,” he says, voice low, dangerous.“Then maybe I’d finally be free.”Silence.He walks toward me. Slowly.I should move. But I don’t.“I searched every fucking corner of that alley,” he says, voice hoarse. “And when I found your phone, I thought—” He stops himself. Shakes his head.“I thought I was too late.”Emotion clogs my throat.But I don’t look away.“You’re angry because I dropped my phone?”“I’m angry,” he growls, hesitating for a bit, “because I care.”That breaks me.Just like that.Because it’s the last thing I expect to hear. From him.The air crackles.But I don
AriaNot long after I doze off, a sharp pain splits through my head, jolting me awake. It pulses once. Then again. I wince, eyes clamped shut as if that alone could dull the sting.When I manage to pry them open, he's already seated beside me in a chair. A glass of water and a pill sit in his hand like some unspoken offering."I should have given you this before you slept," he says, voice even but clipped. "Get up."It comes out more like an order than concern.I try to push myself up, but a dull ache shoots through my leg. I flinch. Damon stands and sits on the edge of the bed, one arm supporting my back as he helps me up gently.That gentleness throws me off more than the pain.He's been like this since yesterday. Quiet, calculated, and gentle in ways he’s never allowed himself to be."Thank you," I murmur."Here. Take this," he replies, handing me the pills and water.I swallow it quickly, passing the empty glass back to him. He places it on the side table without a word.Then, str
DamonThe car pulls in minutes later. Leo jumps out, opens the backseat. I ease her inside, wrapping her in a spare blanket from the trunk.She doesn’t fight it. Just shivers, eyes closed, the shell of her body telling a story she won’t say out loud.I climb in beside her.“Drive,” I tell Leo.The ride is silent.The engine hums. The wipers slice the rain. Her breathing is steady, shallow, like the whole night’s events have finally caught up to her.I glance at her.No mascara.No lipstick.No sharp retort sitting on her tongue.Just a girl who ran too far, chasing someone who may not want to be found.And all I want in this moment is to reach across the seat and hold her hand.But I don’t.Because I’m still the monster.Have been. Still am.I’m cut out of my reverie by the sound of Leo’s voice.“Where to? Home or?” He asks, his voice tight with hesitation, eyes flicking back to the rearview mirror.He already knows the answer. Or at least the dilemma. We can’t go home.Eunice will sn