Chapter 5- Out of his arms, into another

Aria’s POV

Justin blinked, thrown off by the finality in his brother’s tone. “What, you think you can just…”

“I think,” Aaron said evenly, stepping slowly towards Justin, “you should stop talking before you say something you can’t take back.”

For a moment, I thought Justin might explode. His jaw clenched, his fists flexed at his sides, but then he looked at me. Really looked. And in his eyes I saw fear. Not of losing me—but of losing control.

His forced smile returned, sharp as glass. “Fine. Have your little show. But don’t come crawling back when you realize my brother isn’t the hero you think he is.”

He turned on his heel and stormed out, the echo of his footsteps slamming through the silence he left behind.

The room stilled again. My knees felt weak, the weight of everything pressing down on me all at once. I hugged my arm to my chest, the skin still burning where his fingers had dug in.

Then Aaron’s voice broke the silence. His voice came out lower and softer this time. “Let me see.”

I looked up. He was standing close now, his eyes not on my face but on the arm I cradled. Slowly, carefully, like he was afraid I might shatter, he reached for me.

I let him.

His thumb brushed over the reddened skin, his touch gentle but firm. His jaw tightened, and for a second I swore I saw anger flicker in his eyes; not the wild, reckless kind Justin had shown, but something controlled and dangerous in its own right.

“You shouldn’t have to put up with this,” he said, almost under his breath.

Something in my chest cracked at those words, I felt tears press against my eyes. Not from weakness, but from the strange, terrifying relief of not being alone at this moment.

He gestured to Cathy who was not too far from the living room, pretending to dust some artworks.

Immediately she was within his voice's reach, he said, “get me a first aid kit immediately.”

Cathy rushed off at his command, her slippers thudding against the marble floor. My eyes trailed after her before landing on the lawyer, who was still perched uncomfortably on the edge of the couch. His briefcase rested between his knees, but his eyes darted anywhere but me. Shame crawled up my spine. I had forgotten he was there as a witness to my humiliation, my trembling voice, and the sting of Aaron’s intervention.

Before I could summon words, Aaron stepped in, his tone clipped yet polite.

“Apologies for the disruption,” he said, already rising. “Let me walk you out.”

The lawyer bowed his head quickly, almost relieved, and followed Aaron. I sat frozen, my hand still hovering over my arm. The redness had spread, ugly and glaring against my skin. I pressed my fingers lightly over it, wincing at the tenderness.

That was when a voice rumbled from above.

“What is going on down here?”

I jerked my head up. Mr. D’Cruz was descending the stairs, his hand curled around the polished railing. His eyes narrowed, sharp even in the soft glow of the chandelier.

“I could hear voices from my study,” he continued, his gaze flicking from me to the empty doorway where Aaron had just disappeared into. “Raised voices.”

My mouth went dry. Words tangled at the back of my throat. I wanted to explain…but explain what? That his son had dared to lay a hand on me? That I had almost cried? My lips parted, then closed again.

Aaron reappeared before I could speak. His steps were steady, but his eyes were quick and assessing. He looked at me, then at his father.

He answered before I could. “It was nothing, Father. I was… raising my voice at the lawyer. A disagreement on some paperwork. That’s all.”

The lie slipped out so smoothly, I almost believed it myself. Almost.

Mr. D’Cruz’s gaze swept back to me. His brow furrowed when it lingered on my arm, the faint swelling obvious even under the sleeve I tugged nervously. His eyes sharpened, and then cut back to Aaron.

“Is that so?” he asked, voice edged with suspicion.

“Yes,” Aaron replied firmly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “It’s handled.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. I could feel Mr. D’Cruz studying me, weighing the tremble in my fingers, the redness on my skin. My stomach coiled tight. Would he press harder?

But instead, he only nodded once, slowly, though his gaze didn’t soften.

“Hmm.” His eyes flicked between us one last time then he walked down the remaining stairs.

“Let's have breakfast.” He walked past us to the dining room, “Get Justin down here.” His voice was final.

I exhaled shakily, pressing my palm against my arm as though to shield it from sight and questions.

Aaron’s hand brushed against mine lightly, grounding me, his whisper low enough for only me to hear. “You’re safe for now.”

Safe. The word echoed, but all I felt was the weight of secrets tightening around us. The fear that this is just the beginning of every storm waiting to unfold.