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CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT — CRACKS IN THE WALL
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2026-03-29 14:34:00Aria's POV
By five o'clock, the light in the study had shifted from bright to that flat, tired gold that meant the day was almost done. I'd been through Victor's entire financial portfolio twice and had three pages of notes that I kept second guessing myself on.
Not because the analysis was wrong. Because every time I wrote something down, some part
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Aria's POVI called Carol Webb at eight o'clock exactly.She picked up on the third ring, slightly out of breath, which meant she'd just gotten back from the dog walk. I introduced myself simply, just Aria Blackwood, Lucien's wife, calling personally because I wanted her to hear directly from us rather than through the news cycle.She was guarded for the first two minutes. Polite but careful, the way people are when they're waiting to find out what you actually want. I didn't rush it. I asked about the project timeline, acknowledged the injunction straightforwardly without making it dramatic, and told her exactly what I'd told Lucien I would. Personal grievance, procedural noise, substance of the agreement unchanged.There was a pause after that.
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Aria's POV"Yes," he said quietly. "You are."We stayed like that for a bit. The city outside kept going. The phone on his desk buzzed twice and he ignored it both times, which was practically a miracle."Victor's going to find out about Emma today," I said into his chest. "When his Nevada move falls through.""I know," he said."He's going to be angry," I said."Good," Lucien said. "Angry people make mistakes.""So do people who feel like they're winning," I said.He pulled back slightly to look at me. "Meaning?""Meaning don't get comfortable," I said. "Emma was one source. If he's been at this for two years
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Aria's POVBy five o'clock, the light in the study had shifted from bright to that flat, tired gold that meant the day was almost done. I'd been through Victor's entire financial portfolio twice and had three pages of notes that I kept second guessing myself on.Not because the analysis was wrong. Because every time I wrote something down, some part of my brain already knew what the next line was going to be before I got there. And I still couldn't tell why.I put the papers down and stretched my neck.Lucien was still at his desk. He'd taken his jacket off at some point and rolled up his sleeves, which he always did when he'd been working for too long. He was on a call, speaking quietly, something about a regulatory filing. I gathered my
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Last Updated : 2026-03-17
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