My Wife, Aria.

CHAPTER 7

ARIA'S POV

The ballroom was a warzone disguised in sequins and soft jazz. My heels clicked against polished marble as Kane led me deeper. Everyone was dressed like old money and smiling like politicians.

His hand stayed on the small of my back, a perfectly possessive gesture.

People buzzed around us like moths drawn to the flame Kane had sparked with his little "she’s my wife" bombshell. I smiled back, nodding politely, cheeks aching already from the effort. I bit the inside of my cheek to anchor myself, and God, it hurt just enough to keep me from screaming.

Then he appeared...the man oozed influence and that brand of polished, backhanded charm only rich old men and vipers share. Kane’s uncle.

He walked like he was born owning every room. His gaze swept over me, slow and calculating, like I was inventory.

"Uncle Ronan.." Kane said with that controlled tone. "This is my wife. Aria Callahan."

Wife, that word again, it still didn’t sit right in my ears, atleast not anymore.

Ronan's lips curled, the kind of smile you give when you smell something off. "Wife, hmm? You always did move fast when there’s a chair at the top."

Oh, so it begins.

I gave him a smile in return.

Kane didn’t blink. "Efficiency runs in the family, doesn’t it?"

"Sure does." Ronan raised his glass to his lips, pausing. "She’s... beautiful. You've got a dangerous eye."

There it was.

I felt it before Kane even reacted. The mention of Zane, dangling in the air.

"Zane had one too" Ronan added, sipping, his eyes trained on me.

Kane’s fingers flexed slightly at my waist. "Only difference is, I finish what I start."

Their gazes locked, no smiles now.

Ronan chuckled like this was a cocktail joke. "Well, I suppose you’ll be needing all the stability you can get with the board sniffing around. Stock’s down 2.3% since last quarter. Investors are growing... twitchy."

Oh good, business talk.

I resisted the urge to yawn. Instead, I blinked politely while silently contemplating the murder of every man here with a shrimp skewer.

Kane nodded once. "Already taken care of. The merger paperwork goes out tomorrow. She’s part of the narrative now—stability, growth, continuity."

Narrative, that’s all I was.

Ronan smirked. "Interesting choice of pawn."

"Queen, actually..." Kane corrected. "And queens don’t need permission."

I could feel Kane tighten beside me. These two were circling each other with champagne and metaphors.

I studied a chandelier like it held the secret to surviving conversations where I was both a centerpiece and bystander.

Ronan glanced back at me. "She knows what she’s gotten into?"

I gave him my best dead-eyed smile. "No, but I’m here now, so why not ride the fire all the way down?"

Ronan chuckled like that was adorable.

"Well then.." he said, tilting his drink toward Kane. "Good luck, Mrs. Callahan...you’ll need it."

Then he walked away

I exhaled slowly and turned to Kane. "Family reunions must be such a treat."

He didn’t answer, just looked ahead, like he was already three moves past this moment.

They smelled like old perfume and power... A circle of women with perfectly lacquered nails, decades of elegance stitched into their postures. They spoke softly but with a weight that made their words feel like announcements from the Vatican.

Kane… was relaxed.

Well, Kane’s version of relaxed.

He didn’t smile, not really. But his jaw wasn’t clenched, his arms weren’t crossed, and I caught it—the slight softening of his gaze. It was… shocking.

A man who looked like he’d murder feelings on sight suddenly looked like he gave a damn.

So, of course, I stared.

We sat, Kane engaging them with polite nods and low murmurs about family updates, boardroom nonsense, and someone’s daughter who just got married in Italy. I chewed delicately on something plated like art and tasting like regret.

I was zoning out, letting the dull hum of their voices carry me somewhere else when I felt a pinch on my cheek.

A literal pinch.

I almost smacked the hand away on instinct. Fight or flight hit hard. But I caught myself. Instead, I blinked, lips frozen mid-chew, my eyes darting to the culprit.

A sweet older woman with a wide, grandmother-of-the-year smile beamed at me.

"Oh, look at her! So pretty...like a little doll." She giggled and pinched again before I managed a nervous, breathy chuckle and pulled away politely, smoothing my face like I could iron the awkward out.

"Thank you.." I said.

She leaned in conspiratorially. "So, darling, how did you meet our dear Kane?"

Oh good God.

I choked on my saliva for a second and laughed. "Ah… you know, that’s… that’s definitely a story for another time."

The woman raised a brow and patted my hand like I was some shy bride in a Victorian novel. "Oh, come now! He never tells us anything. We didn’t even know he had a girlfriend, much less a wife! You must tell us. Was it love at first sight?"

A chorus of giggles and "Yes, do tell!" echoed around me.

I glanced at Kane.

Nothing, he was just sipping his wine, watching like he’d rather be anywhere else but here.

Coward.

"Well..." I cleared my throat, schooling my face into something more charming than strained. "He’s… persistent."

More chuckles.

"And it wasn’t romantic, not in the traditional sense.." I added "No violins or rainstorms, y'know but he does have a way of showing up when he wants something."

Kane’s brow twitched slightly at that.

The older woman patted my knee, still smiling. "That sounds exactly like him."

I turned to him with a sickly sweet smile.

"Darling.." I cooed. "Why don’t you tell them how we met?"

I watched him freeze, though not visibly. Kane Callahan was far too trained for anything that human. But I saw it, the faint bob of his throat, the flick of his gaze. That microsecond of calculation.

The flock of matrons—Callahan aunts, distant cousins, family friends from money older than America turned their attention on him. One even leaned forward, practically licking her lips for the drama.

"Well..." he began, his voice cool and smooth, like he practiced this every morning in a mirror, "it was… quite ordinary, actually."

Oh, God.

"I saw her at a charity auction..." he continued. "She wasn’t bidding. Just... standing there, y'know graceful. Everyone else was loud and flashy, but she had this calm."

Meanwhile, I’d met him in a suite with my name signed on a marriage contract.

"She was in this navy-blue dress.." he said. "Not flashy, but it stood out. She didn’t even see me watching her at first. Then she did. And… that was it."

The ladies gasped like we were in a period drama. One of them fanned herself. Another sighed, "He remembered the dress! That’s love, honey."

My cheeks burned, not from flattery but from something else. From hearing someone describe a fairytale you once wanted, one that belonged to a girl you barely recognize anymore. The kind of girl who believed in stories like that.

"And then?" one of the women pressed.

Kane glanced at me, as if he was dropping the truth.

"I approached her.." he continued. "She didn’t look like she wanted to talk, but I introduced myself anyway. She said something sarcastic, naturally." He smirked. "But I liked that...I liked her. The rest is… well…"

They all laughed and cooed, and before I could prepare, one of them reached out and pinched my cheek. AGAIN!

I nearly slapped her hand away.

I managed a little chuckle.

"She probably thought you were a stalker..' another aunt said, giggling.

"I did.." I muttered, smiling through my teeth. "I definitely did."

They howled with laughter, and I sat there, my face burning, heart hammering, thinking: This isn’t real. None of it is real.

But it sounded too much like a dream I used to have back when I thought Zane loved me, back before the blood, before the marbles tiles turned red and my body went cold.

I smiled wider and took another sip of wine. Because sometimes, pretending hurts less than remembering.

I had barely stepped three feet away from the table when I dropped the smile. It slid off my face like a heavy mask it was exhausting.

I reached up and massaged my cheeks, my fingers pressing into sore muscles that had been stretched into a performance for hours.

Smiling was a full-body workout around these people.

The bar was just a few feet away, and I made a path toward it.

I needed a pause, a breather. I just needed ten seconds of silence. Ten seconds without someone pinching my face or asking how Kane and I fell in love like we were a Nicholas Sparks novella.

But, of course, the universe had other plans.

One moment, I was walking. The next, a cold splash spread across my chest, soaking the bodice of my dress.

I gasped, stumbling back then I saw her.

Sibil.

Smiling like the cat who drowned the canary.

"Oh hey, sister.." she purred, head tilting with faux innocence. "Didn’t see you there.”