Icy Morning

Three days later

The Cross penthouse was a quiet glass fortress at dawn.

Soft grey light spilled across polished marble; the city below still yawned awake.

Damian was already dressed for work, dark suit, silver cuff links, every line of him precise. He stood at the espresso machine, reading market updates on his tablet, the faint hum of the machine the only sound.

Aria padded in wearing a loose silk robe the color of midnight. No makeup, hair in a lazy knot, she looked like she’d just stepped out of a dream and decided to own the morning.

“Good morning, husband,” she said, voice warm enough to be almost mocking.

Damian didn’t look up. “Morning.” One clipped syllable. The man could freeze steam.

She strolled to the fridge and poured herself orange juice, moving with the easy confidence of someone who belonged. “You’re leaving early. Another emergency meeting to save the world?”

“Business doesn’t wait.” He tapped his tablet, eyes fixed on the numbers. “Some of us work.”

Aria took a slow sip, watching him over the rim of her glass. “Some of us do more than breathe spreadsheets.”

A faint muscle ticked in his jaw. “Not everyone can spend the day drinking juice.”

“Oh, I have plans,” she said lightly. “Maybe I’ll buy another company just for fun.”

The housekeeper, mid-dusting near the dining table, tried and failed to hide a smile.

Damian finally turned, gaze cool as steel. “You like attention.”

“I like accuracy,” Aria countered. “People should know when they’re in the presence of someone interesting.”

His eyes narrowed a fraction. “You enjoy pushing.”

“And you enjoy pretending you can’t be pushed.” She set her glass down with a quiet clink. “We all have hobbies.”

The silence stretched. The housekeeper’s feather duster froze in mid-air.

Damian broke it first. “Keep your… hobbies quiet. I don’t need more headlines.”

Aria tilted her head, the corner of her mouth curving. “Relax. If anyone embarrasses you, it won’t be me.”

That earned a sharper look. “Meaning?”

“Meaning,” she said sweetly, “I married a man who handles mergers worth billions. Surely a few dinner parties and curious reporters won’t break you.”

Damian exhaled once, slow. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re late,” she replied, checking the clock.

For a beat, something like amusement flickered across his face but it vanished as quickly as it came. He set the tablet down, collected his jacket, and strode toward the door.

“Don’t wait up,” he said.

“I never do,” Aria answered, her tone smooth as glass.

The door closed behind him with a soft, decisive click.

Aria let the quiet settle again, a faint smile tugging at her lips. Damian thought his coldness could rattle her; he hadn’t learned a thing.

Am I serving Icy or spicy morning?, she thought, and finished the last sip of orange juice like a silent toast.

The rooftop café smelled of roasted beans and warm pastry, a sharp contrast to the cool wind whipping over the city. Aria claimed a corner table with a clean view of the skyline. She liked high places they reminded her how easy it was to watch people scramble below.

Sophia Lin arrived ten minutes late, all fake sunshine in a designer coat.

“Aria!” she squealed, air-kissing both cheeks. “I was so worried you’d be lonely. Married life can feel…isolating.”

Isolating, like the poison you served me last time, Aria thought, but her smile stayed soft. “How thoughtful, Soph. Sit. The cappuccinos here are divine.”

Sophia slid into the seat, eyes glittering like polished glass. “You look amazing. Marriage clearly agrees with you.”

Aria stirred her coffee lazily. “Stress is a good facial treatment. You should try it.”

Sophia blinked, unsure whether it was a joke. “Oh, you’re wicked.” She giggled anyway.

They traded small talk about fashion launches and charity dinners. Sophia sprinkled compliments like confetti, each one edged with quiet spite:

“You always wear black so well most people would look like a widow.”

“I can’t believe Damian lets you go out alone. He must trust you completely.”

Aria matched her tone with surgical precision.

“Thank you. Black hides sins beautifully.”

“And of course he trusts me. I’m trustworthy. Aren’t you?”

A tiny crack showed in Sophia’s smile before she smoothed it away.

When the waitress left them with a fresh round of drinks, Sophia leaned in, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Between us…people are talking. They think Damian is…distant. I only want you to be happy.”

Aria let out a soft laugh. “People always talk. I’d worry more about what they say about you.”

Sophia’s eyes flickered. “About me? Please.”

“Oh, you know.” Aria sipped her cappuccino, letting the pause draw tight. “The little investments. Quiet parties. Everyone loves a good rumor.”

Sophia’s posture stiffened, a heartbeat too long before the grin returned. “Rumors are silly.”

“Of course,” Aria agreed sweetly. “But they spread faster than espresso shots. Best to stay careful.”

The wind caught Sophia’s scarf, tugging it sideways. She fussed with it, hiding the brief flush in her cheeks.

Aria leaned back, perfectly calm. Hook set, she thought. Now let her tug the line herself.

Sophia tried to shift the topic. “Anyway, there’s a small gathering tomorrow night. Very exclusive. I’ll text you the details you must come.”

“How exclusive?” Aria asked, voice mild but eyes sharp.

“Investors only,” Sophia said, a little too quickly. “But you’d fit right in. It’s just…private.”

Aria smiled like a cat. “Private sounds delightful.”

Sophia hesitated, then forced another laugh. “I knew you’d understand.”

They finished their drinks, Sophia chattering about designer handbags while Aria stored every word like ammunition. When they finally stood, Sophia hugged her tightly. “You’re still my best friend,” she said.

“Of course,” Aria murmured against her ear, voice silk and steel. “Best friends forever.”

Sophia pulled back, searching her face for meaning, but Aria’s expression was pure warmth.

As Sophia clicked away on her high heels, Aria watched her go, a quiet grin playing at her lips. In her first life, she’d trusted that grin. Now it was just a roadmap to Sophia’s downfall.

Aria's phone beeped , it was a text from Damian "Meet me in my office in the next one hour". She smiled, picked up her bag and left .

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