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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN — THE SILENT ALLY
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2026-02-24 17:03:49Aria's POV.
"He’s very beautiful when he’s angry, isn't he?" Jennifer said, leaning against the doorframe. "But you’re making him messy, Aria. And a messy Blackwood is a poor Blackwood. I’ve been waiting ten years for him to realize that. I can wait one more day for you to be discarded."
She stared at me as a perfect, chilling curve raised her lips and slowly, she walked away.
I sat on the edge of my bed, the weight of Monday looming larger than ever. I wasn't just fighting Helena now. I was fighting the "perfect" replacement and a sister who thought she was doing the right thing.
~~~
The penthouse felt like a theater of war dressed in silk and marble. Monday morning arrived with a deceptive stillness, the kind that precedes a landslide. As I dressed for the impending board meeting, I chose a suit of charcoal wool, nearly the same shade as Lucien’s, and pinned my hair back perfectly.
I was no longer the girl who had been murdered for her organs in another life. I was the wife of a man who would burn down the world for me, and it was time I started acting like it.
When I entered the dining room for breakfast, the air was already poisoned. Seraphina sat at the head of the table, picking at a grapefruit with an expression of profound boredom, while Jennifer looked over a stack of legal briefs, a delicate porcelain cup of Earl Grey in her hand.
Lucien was at the far end with an open laptop in front of him. He didn't look up when I entered, but I saw his jaw tighten, a subtle signal that he was aware of every inch of my movement.
"Oh, look who decided to join the living room," Seraphina chirped, her eyes flicking to my bruised cheek. "Jennifer was just telling me about the itinerary for the meeting. Apparently, there’s a discrepancy in the family trust expenditures. Something about a large sum being moved to a private account under your name, Aria. Care to explain?"
Jennifer didn't look up from her papers, but the corners of her mouth twitched. "Sera, dear, don't pounce. I'm sure Aria has a very good reason for why fifty thousand dollars disappeared from the household account the day she met with Ethan Vance."
It was a classic trap. Simple, elegant, and designed to make me look like a thief in front of the man who valued loyalty above all else.
I sat down, poured myself a cup of black coffee, and took a slow, deliberate sip. The silence stretched until it became uncomfortable for everyone except Lucien and me.
"Is that the 'fact' you deduced, Jennifer?" I asked calmly. "That I stole from my husband to fund my own kidnapping?"
"The bank records don't lie, Aria," Jennifer said, finally looking up with a gaze of practiced pity. "I have the transfer receipt right here. The IP address used to authorize the transaction matches the guest Wi-Fi in the penthouse. Your personal login was used."
Seraphina let out a theatrical gasp. "Lucien! Are you hearing this? She was paying him! She was paying for the van!"
Lucien remained silent, his fingers tapping a rhythmic, slow beat against the mahogany table. He looked like he was watching a particularly interesting drama, his grey eyes tracking the movement of the actors with a dark, hidden amusement.
"You're right about one thing, Jennifer," I said, leaning back. "The bank records don't lie. But hackers do. And so do people who think they’re smarter than everyone else."
I pulled a small flash drive from my pocket, the one Chen had slipped into my hand an hour ago, and slid it across the table toward Lucien.
"Chen spent the night tracing that IP," I said, my voice cutting through the room like a blade. "It turns out the 'guest Wi-Fi' wasn't accessed from the penthouse at all. It was cloned. By a device currently sitting in Jennifer’s suite at the St. Regis, where she stayed before Seraphina 'coincidentally' bumped into her at the airport."
Jennifer’s grip on her teacup faltered, just for a fraction of a second. "That’s a bold accusation, Aria. Cloned Wi-Fi? This isn't a spy novel."
"No, it's a practical reality," I countered. "And as for that fifty thousand dollars? If you had looked closer at the transaction history, you’d see it wasn't a transfer to Ethan. It was a payment from a shell company registered in the Cayman Islands, one that, according to the metadata Chen found, shares a registered agent with your family’s estate, Jennifer."
The room went deathly quiet. Seraphina looked between us, her shallow confidence beginning to crumble. "Wait... Jen? What is she talking about?"
Jennifer’s elegant mask didn't break, but the light in her eyes shifted into something ugly. "She’s lying, Seraphina. She’s trying to shift the blame because she’s cornered."
"Lucien?" I called out softly.
For the first time, Lucien closed his laptop. He turned his head slowly toward Jennifer. The sheer weight of his gaze made the blonde woman stiffen. He didn't look angry, he looked satisfied. Maybe he had actually been waiting for me to bite back.
"The metadata doesn't lie, Jennifer," Lucien said, his voice terrifyingly low and smooth. "I gave you one night in my home because my sister asked. I didn't give you permission to plant digital evidence on my network."
"Lucien, you can't believe her!" Jennifer stood up, her dignified charade showing bits of cracks. "She’s a bookstore girl! She’s playing you!"
"She’s my wife," Lucien corrected. He stood up as his dark aura flooded the space until even the sunlight seemed to dim. "And she’s significantly better at this than you are."
He walked toward me, his hand resting on the back of my chair. It was a silent display of authority, a territorial claim that left no room for argument.
"Marcus," Lucien called out.
Marcus appeared in the doorway, his arm still carefully wounded in a sling but his expression showed that he was very satisfied. "Sir?"
"Take Jennifer’s luggage to the curb," Lucien commanded. "She won't be joining us for the board meeting. In fact, she won't be joining us for anything, ever again. If I see her within a mile of a Blackwood property, consider her a trespasser. Use whatever force necessary."
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