CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: THE NAME THEY HID FROM ME

Aria’s POV

The way Liana said it made my stomach drop before my mind could even catch up.

Who you really are.

The words slid into the room like smoke, filling every corner, choking out the air. My fingers tightened in Damon’s shirt, clutching fabric like it was the only solid thing left in a world that had suddenly tilted off its axis. My pulse roared in my ears, loud enough that for a moment I couldn’t hear anything else. Not the hum of the screens. Not Daniel’s shallow breathing. Not the guards shifting uncomfortably behind us.

Just my own blood.

Too fast.

Too loud.

Like it was trying to escape.

Liana leaned against the doorway as if she had all the time in the world. As if this wasn’t my life cracking open in real time. Her expression wasn’t cruel exactly. It was worse. Calm. Assured. Like she was finally allowed to speak a truth she had been holding onto for years.

I shook my head slowly. “No.”

The word came out thin. Weak. Barely there.

Damon’s arm tightened around my shoulders instantly. “She’s not saying anything,” he said, voice low and sharp. “This conversation is over.”

Liana smiled wider.

“You don’t get to decide that anymore,” she replied. “Not when she’s standing in the middle of it.”

My chest felt tight, like invisible hands were pressing inward from every direction. I tried to inhale deeply, tried to ground myself, but my lungs refused to cooperate. Each breath came shallow and jagged, scraping on the way in.

I forced myself to look at her.

Really look.

Up close, the resemblance was unsettling in a way that went beyond mirrors and bone structure. It was in the way she held her head. The way her eyes narrowed when she focused. The subtle tilt of her mouth when she was confident she had the upper hand.

Like watching a future version of myself I never asked to become.

“What are you talking about,” I asked, my voice trembling despite my effort to steady it. “Say it clearly. Stop speaking in riddles.”

Her gaze softened when it landed on me, and that scared me more than her smile ever had.

“You’ve always hated not knowing,” she said. “Even as a child.”

A sharp jolt ran through me.

As a child.

I didn’t remember her. I knew that. I would remember someone like her. But the way she said it made something stir at the back of my mind, something half buried, like an image seen through water.

“I didn’t know you as a child,” I snapped. “I’ve never seen you before today.”

Liana nodded slowly. “That’s what they wanted.”

Damon stepped forward, fully between us now, his presence solid and grounding, a wall I was grateful for even as panic gnawed at my ribs.

“That’s enough,” he said. “You are done manipulating her.”

“Manipulating?” she echoed lightly. “I’m telling her the truth.”

His jaw clenched. “Your version of it.”

She tilted her head. “There is only one version.”

The room felt smaller by the second. The walls too close. The lights too bright. My thoughts kept tripping over each other, looping back to the same questions over and over.

A file.

Six years old.

DNA markers.

A man watching me long before I ever met Damon.

I pressed my fingers into my temple, trying to stop the ache building there. “Just tell me,” I whispered. “Please. I can’t keep guessing.”

Damon’s hand slid up my arm, steady and warm. “Aria, you don’t have to listen to her. We can step away. I will explain everything when we have space.”

“When,” Liana cut in smoothly, “or if.”

I flinched.

She took a step forward, slow and deliberate. Damon mirrored it instantly, protective instinct flaring so strong it was almost visible.

“Don’t,” he warned.

She stopped, holding his gaze for a long beat. Something unspoken passed between them. Old history. Old anger. Things I wasn’t part of but was somehow trapped inside anyway.

Then she looked back at me.

“You weren’t born Aria,” she said gently.

The room went dead silent.

My breath caught so hard it hurt. “That’s not funny.”

“I’m not joking.”

Damon’s voice snapped. “Liana.”

“She deserves to know her own name.”

My vision blurred. I shook my head again, more violently this time, like I could physically shake the words loose from my brain.

“My name is Aria,” I said. “It’s on my birth certificate. On my records. On everything.”

“Yes,” Liana agreed. “After they changed it.”

A cold, hollow sensation spread through my chest.

“Changed it from what,” I asked.

She hesitated.

Just for a second.

And that hesitation did more damage than any cruel certainty could have.

Damon’s breathing turned heavy. “You are not finishing this sentence.”

Liana’s eyes flicked to him, sharp now. “You don’t get to protect her from herself.”

“I get to protect her from you.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, the pressure behind them unbearable. “Stop arguing,” I whispered. “Both of you. Just… stop.”

They did.

The silence that followed was worse.

I opened my eyes again and met Liana’s gaze. “Say it.”

She studied my face like she was committing it to memory. Like she was searching for something familiar in me. Or confirming something.

“Your original name,” she said slowly, “was Elara.”

The sound of it hit me like a physical thing.

Elara.

Something inside me reacted instantly. Not recognition exactly. More like resonance. A low hum under my skin, like a string pulled too tight suddenly vibrating.

My knees weakened. Damon tightened his hold again, his other hand coming up to steady my elbow.

“No,” I whispered. “That’s not… I don’t remember that.”

“Because you weren’t meant to,” Liana replied softly. “You were erased.”

My heart slammed against my ribs. “Erased by who.”

Her gaze slid to Damon.

I sucked in a sharp breath. “Damon.”

He looked torn. Genuinely torn. Like every word he might say carried the power to shatter me.

“I didn’t know at first,” he said quietly. “I swear to you. I found out later. And by then you were already gone.”

“Gone from where,” I demanded.

Liana answered before he could. “From us.”

The room spun.

“From what us,” I said. “You’re not making sense.”

She inhaled slowly. “You were part of a program. One designed to protect assets through redundancy.”

My stomach twisted. “I’m not an asset.”

She met my eyes. “Neither was I. Until they decided I was.”

Damon cursed under his breath.

“Clones,” I whispered without meaning to.

Liana’s expression hardened. “No. Not clones. That’s too crude. You were engineered variations. Genetic siblings, if you want to simplify it. Designed to survive different outcomes.”

My chest felt like it was collapsing inward.

“No,” I said again, louder. “That’s not possible. People don’t do that.”

“They do,” she replied. “When there’s enough money involved.”

I laughed then. A sharp, hysterical sound that surprised even me. “You expect me to believe that my entire life is some experiment.”

“I expect you to feel it,” she said quietly. “Because deep down, you already do.”

Images flickered at the edges of my mind. Not memories. Sensations. A white room. Cold floors. A voice counting. The smell of antiseptic.

I gasped, pressing a hand to my mouth.

Damon noticed instantly. “Aria. Look at me.”

I tried. God, I tried. But my thoughts were slipping, sliding, unraveling faster than I could grab them.

“They wiped you,” Liana continued. “Gave you a clean slate. Dropped you somewhere no one would look too closely.”

My head shook on its own. “Why.”

Her eyes finally lost their calm.

“Because I failed,” she said. “And they needed a contingency.”

The words echoed.

Contingency.

I staggered back, breaking free of Damon’s hold, my legs barely supporting me. “I’m not a backup,” I said fiercely. “I’m a person.”

Liana’s voice softened. “So am I.”

Damon moved toward me again, concern etched into every line of his face. “Aria, listen to me. Whatever she’s saying, you are not defined by it. You are you. Nothing else matters.”

I wanted to believe him.

I really did.

But my body was buzzing, my head pounding, my heart breaking in a way that felt ancient.

“And the man watching me,” I whispered. “The one in the footage.”

Liana’s gaze darkened. “He was assigned to monitor both of us.”

“To make sure you stayed erased,” Damon finished grimly.

My stomach dropped.

I looked up at Liana, fear threading through the confusion. “Why tell me now.”

She smiled sadly. “Because they’re moving again.”

A chill ran down my spine. “Moving how.”

She stepped back toward the door. “If you think watching was bad, you’re not going to like what comes next.”

Damon’s posture stiffened. “What did you do.”

Liana paused at the threshold, glancing back at me one last time.

“I made sure they found you,” she said. “Because if they’re coming anyway, you deserve to be awake this time.”

The door closed behind her.

And the room felt impossibly empty.

I stood there shaking, my entire sense of self splintering, one terrifying thought screaming louder than all the others.

If my life was designed…

What was I meant to survive next.