LOGINAria nodded slowly. The movement made the room sway, but she knew Cassandra was right. The stubborn denial she had been clinging to over the past two days was gone. She couldn't pretend she was fine anymore. "I know. I need a checkup." "Do you want me to call someone for you?" Cassandra asked, hovering over her with wide, worried eyes. "I can call a private car." "No," Aria said immediately. She forced herself to sit up, pushing through the heavy, dragging sensation in her limbs. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed. The floor rushed up to meet her boots. She gripped the edge of the mattress to steady herself. "No, I'm just going to go home. I need to sleep in my own bed." "Are you sure you can walk?" Cassandra asked, her hands hovering near Aria's shoulders, ready to catch her if she fell. "I can walk," Aria said. She took a deep breath, letting the air fill her lungs, and pushed herself up to a standing position.
Aria opened her eyes. The ceiling above her was white, textured with cheap plaster. She blinked, her vision swimming for a few seconds before finally settling into focus. She wasn't sitting up anymore. She was lying completely flat on her back. The surface beneath her was soft, sinking slightly under her weight. It wasn't the stiff beige loveseat she had been sitting on earlier. It was a mattress.She turned her head to the side. The movement sent a sharp, stinging spike of pain right behind her eyes. She let out a dry, cracked groan, her throat feeling like sandpaper."Aria?"The voice came from her right. A shadow shifted at the edge of the bed. Cassandra leaned over her, her face blocking out the weak light from the desk lamp. Cassandra's eyes were bloodshot, swollen, and wet. Mascara was smeared in dark, messy streaks down her cheeks."Oh my god," Cassandra choked out, covering her mouth with her hand. She let out a loud, jagged sob. "You're a
The car ride to the hotel was an exercise in pure endurance. Aria sat in the back seat of the black sedan with her head resting against the cool tinted glass, her eyes shut tight against the glare of the passing streetlights. Every stop and start of the vehicle sent a fresh, uncomfortable wave rolling through her stomach. She kept her hands folded tightly in her lap, focusing entirely on taking slow, steady breaths.She just had to get through the next thirty minutes. That was the only thought keeping her moving.The hotel Cassandra had chosen sat on a busy, noisy street corner. Aria paid the driver, stepped out onto the pavement, and immediately felt the heavy weakness in her legs. Her knees trembled slightly as she walked through the revolving glass doors. The lobby smelled of artificial vanilla air freshener and damp carpet, the bright overhead lights stinging her tired eyes.She checked the text message on her phone for the room number. 412.T
Aria’s stomach gave a familiar, uneasy clench. She knew exactly where this was going. "Cassandra...""Please, Aria," her sister pleaded, the desperation suddenly sharp. "Just one more time. I need to see you. I need to apologize properly for everything, and then I swear to God, I will walk away. I won't bother you anymore. I just need closure with my sister before I lock myself away."Aria gripped the edge of the kitchen island. A wave of dizziness washed over her, forcing her eyes shut until the swaying stopped. "I can't today. I really can't. I'm sick, Cassandra. I've had terrible food poisoning. I can barely stand up for more than ten minutes without the room spinning.""You're sick?" Cassandra’s tone shifted into exaggerated concern. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry. Are you alone? Is Damian there?""He's in California for work," Aria said, the words slipping out before she could stop them."So you're all by yourself," Cassandra murmured, almost thoughtfully, before pitching back into a p
Aria woke up the next morning with the same leaden feeling dragging down her bones.The violent sickness from the day before had receded, leaving behind a dull, persistent ache in the pit of her stomach and a sour taste in the back of her throat. She lay still on her side of the bed, staring at the empty space where Damian should have been. The penthouse was dead quiet, save for the distant hum of city traffic dozens of floors below.She reached out with a trembling hand and picked up her phone from the nightstand. The screen brightness stung her eyes. There was a single message from Damian, sent around five in the morning California time.Slept two hours. Heading back into the boardroom. Have my phone on me. If you aren't feeling better today, tell me and I am sending Evans up. No arguments. Aria stared at the direct text. She could easily picture him typing it, stalking down a glass hallway with a coffee in one hand, exhausted but still aggressively managing her well-being. The gui
His jaw clenched. A muscle ticked visibly along his cheekbone. "Food poisoning? Since when? Have you been throwing up?""A little," she admitted softly, knowing there was no point in denying it when he was looking at her like he wanted to reach through the screen and shake the truth out of her. "It started this morning. I've just been resting on the couch.""Bullshit," he growled. He tossed the pen onto his desk with a sharp clatter and reached for his other phone, resting just out of frame. "I’m calling Dr. Evans. He’s going to come to the penthouse right now and look at you.""Damian, no!" Aria sat up straighter, panic flaring in her chest. The last thing she wanted was a doctor poking and prodding at her, asking questions she didn't have the energy to answer. "Please, don't do that. I don't need a doctor for a bad stomach bug. It’s embarrassing.""I don't give a damn if it's embarrassing," he fired back, his tone leaving absolutely no room for debate. "You are alone in that penthou
March in the city was not a season of renewal; it was a season of mud and profound misery.The romance of the winter snow had long since vanished, replaced by a permanent, industrial gray slush that clung to the sidewalks like a disease. The sky above Manhattan was a leaden weight, and the wind blow
The basement was a place where time went to die. Three floors below the pavement of the city, there were no windows to show the passage of the sun, no shifting shadows to mark the hours, and no seasons to change the temperature. There was only the low, constant hum of the massive industrial ventilat
Aria dropped her spoon. It clattered loudly against the china, the sound ringing out like a gunshot in the silent room."Father," Damian said, his voice low and warning."Don't look at me like that, Damian," Alfred told his son. "It’s the simple truth. Desmond Hale sold one daughter to save his fail
Damian watched the fire until the last scrap of paper was a black flake. Then he turned off the stove. He walked back to her, and for the first time, he looked truly terrifying. The mask of the businessman was gone; only the monster remained."I do not want your money, Aria," he hissed, leaning over







