LOGINDamienA month passed.From the outside, nothing seemed wrong.I showed up to meetings on time. I signed contracts. I smiled when expected. My suits were pressed, my calendar full, my reputation intact. If anyone asked, I was managing. Thriving, even.That was the lie.The truth lived in the spaces between obligations. In the quiet hours at night. In the bottle I told myself I controlled. It started small. A drink to sleep. A drink to quiet my thoughts. A drink to take the edge off the images that refused to fade.Then two. Then three.Never enough to slur. Never enough to miss work. Enough to blur the sharpest edges of the ache.My mother noticed first.“You sound tired,” she said over the phone one evening. “You’re not sleeping, are you?”“I’m fine,” I said. Always.My father noticed next. He came by unannounced one afternoon, took in the half-empty glass on my desk, the tension in my shoulders.“This isn’t sustainable,” he said quietly.“I have it under control.”Jake was less gent
DamienThe headline found me before I could look away.I was on opening an email, some meaningless update about one of our companies, when the image slid into the sidebar.Aria. Julian Chase. Smiling.Not posed, not stiff. Caught mid-laughter. Her hand lifted toward her mouth the way she always did when something surprised her. His head angled toward her, close enough to feel intimate even through the photo.My chest tightened so suddenly I thought I might be having a heart attack.I stared at the screen, unmoving, while my body reacted as if I were under threat. Pulse racing. Jaw locking. A heat crawling up my neck. My office felt too small, the air too thin. Somewhere in the building, a phone rang. I flinched.Aria Laurent of Joie Du Sucre steps out with Sir Julian Chase-- sparks in the city.Sparks.I slammed the laptop shut.My secretary knocked a moment later. I snapped at her without meaning to. She retreated, startled. I hated myself for it, but the feeling passed too quickly to
AriaI froze for a moment, eyes drawn to the small vase of dahlias waiting on my door . Beside them lay an envelope, my name written in handwriting I knew too well.I picked it up, hands trembling slightly, and unfolded the letter. My heart caught in my chest as Damien’s words filled the page.*******My dear Aria,You’re not answering my messages, and I can’t reach you, so let me explain a few things. I tried, I really tried, to forget about you, to do the best I could for my family, for Theo, for everyone else. I also tried for you Aria, I hurt you immensely so I thought I would be doing wats best for you if I let you go. Sleeping with Vivienne all those years ago was a drunken mistake and before I could tell you, her parents demanded I make an honest woman out of her. Their business was failing and they needed the von Adler name so badly that they threatened to take legal action. I had no choice but to do what they wanted. My parents said I had to face the consequences of my action
DamienI found the photo tucked between old paperwork on my desk, a worn Polaroid from years ago. Arya and I, grinning like fools, drenched in rain with her hair plastered to her cheeks. I could almost hear the laughter, the careless chaos of that night,—sneaking out past curfew, splashing each other in puddles, stealing moments that felt infinite at seventeen.I traced her face with my finger through the faded paper, and a slow ache settled in my chest. It was simple then. Light. No headlines, no expectations, no Vivian’s calculating eyes lurking in the background. Just us. Just the kind of reckless, ridiculous love only kids could have.I didn’t notice the office door creak open until a familiar voice broke through my thoughts.“You’re staring at that thing like it holds the answers to your universe,” Jake said, leaning against the frame. He smirked, but there was concern in his eyes that no smile could hide.I looked up, trying to shake off the memory. “It’s… nothing. Just old time
The ballroom glittered under chandeliers as Vivienne swept in, every eye naturally drawn to her. She had mastered the art of entrance; she knew the power of presence. Her heels clicked against the polished floor, and whispers trailed her like silk ribbons. “Oh my god, Vivienne!! There you are!” one friend exclaimed, practically throwing herself at Vivian for a quick hug. “I missed you too,” Vivian replied, her smile bright, flawless. Every word, every glance, measured. She let herself soak in their admiration, letting the warmth feed the careful fire of her plans. As she moved deeper into the room, other friends gravitated toward her. “It feels like the city’s been dull without you,” another said, hands fluttering. “What have you been up to?” Vivienne tilted her head, leaning in conspiratorially. “Oh, you know, the usual,” she said softly, eyes flicking over a group of younger socialites who had been lingering near the bar. “Navigating certain… delicate situations. Some people
Aria The kitchen was always so warm in the morning, the smell of cake and cinnamon wrapping around me in comfort. I was icing the last batch of cupcakes when Maeve’s voice floated in from the front desk. “Aria? There’s… a lady looking for you,” she said carefully, almost hesitating. I frowned. “A lady?” “Yes. Very… persistent,” Maeve added, eyebrows knitting together. “Said she needed to speak with you.” I wiped my hands on a towel, my pulse already picking up. I had a feeling I knew who this was. The door to the bakery swung open, and there she was. Vivienne von Adler. Immaculately dressed, perfectly poised, but her eyes were sharp knives. “Vivienne,” I said evenly, stepping out from the kitchen. “How may I help you?” She didn’t smile. Didn’t soften. She tilted her head slightly, studying me as if weighing my worth. “Don’t pretend, Aria. Don’t act like I didn’t notice you and Damien disappearing at the same time from the ballroom.” My stomach tightened. “I really do
Aria“I know that tone, Karissah. What did I forget?”“Oh my god,” she groans through the phone. “Aria. Don’t tell me you actually forgot.”“The date,” I whisper, the words forming in my mouth before my brain fully catches up. I blink at the oven clock in the kitchen. “Oh my god, Karissah…..I did.
DamienI wasn’t following her. Not really.I’d been pacing outside my apartment for over an hour, keys in hand, debating whether or not to see her. Again.It was stupid. She told me she needed space. That she was done. But I couldn’t stay away. Not tonight. Not after what I said to her. Not after h
Flashback The frog lay limp between them, splayed open like an unfortunate science fair victim. Formaldehyde clung to the air, sharp and unforgiving, but Aria Laurent didn’t flinch ---not exactly.She grimaced. “If this thing twitches, I’m going to scream.”Damien glanced sideways, lips twitching.
AriaThe smell of cinnamon and caramel danced in the air, warm and sharp like memory. My kitchen was loud with laughter and clattering trays… chaos in its purest, most comforting form.“Hugo,” I called over the noise, “if you keep piping like that, I’m going to enter you into the next city bake-off







