MasukDamien’s P.O.VThe sterile scent of the hospital—bleach, rubbing alcohol, and old fear—hit me the moment I stepped through the sliding doors.Beside me, Alexandra was a whirlwind of hysteria, her voice cracking as she sobbed, her hand gripping my arm so tightly her nails dug into my suit jacket. I didn't pull away. In this moment, she wasn't the poised, formidable older sister who usually commanded every room she entered; she was just a terrified girl facing the possibility of a world without the woman who had built the very foundation of our family.&n
Aria’s P.O.VThe taillights of Damien’s car were two bleeding red eyes in the distance, receding rapidly into the city traffic.I stood on the curb, the cold night air biting at my skin, feeling the sudden, violent vacuum where his presence had been. He had left me with a curt command and a vague promise of seeing me tonight, but the look on his face—that shuttered, distant expression—had left a poisonous seed of doubt blooming in my chest.For weeks, I had played the part of the trusting partner. I had convinced myself that the mysterious phone calls, the sudden disappearances, and the guardedness were merely the stresses of a high-powered career and the logistical nightmare of the penthouse renovations.He had taken me to that penthouse; I had seen the dust sheets and the workers. But the math didn't add up. The urgency in his voice tonight wasn't the tone of a man dealing with a delayed shipment of Italian marble. It was the tone of a man responding to a crisis of the heart.A yell
Aria’s P.O.VThe heavy door of the chauffeured sedan clicked shut, sealing us away from the opulent chaos of the opera house. The silence that followed was immediate and thick, broken only by the muted hum of the engine and the soft rhythmic clicking of the turn signal.We sat in the plush leather back seat, the city lights of the evening beginning to blur into streaks of gold and white against the tinted windows.Usually, this was my favorite part of the night—the transition. The moment where the masks of "Boss" and "Employee" could finally slip, allowing us to exist simply as two people who belonged to each other. But as I leaned back against the seat, I felt as though I were still standing in that foyer, hearing Amara’s voice hiss in my ear.Nothing in this world is final…I stared out the window, my reflection ghost-like against the glass. I could feel Damien watching me. He didn't say anything at first, but his presence was a physical weight beside me, attentive and perceptive. H
Aria’s P.O.VThe warmth in my chest, the fleeting sense of victory I had felt when Steven praised my intellect, vanished as quickly as it had arrived. I looked at Amara, and the mask was back. The fury had been replaced by a chilling, clinical calculation.I knew that look. It was the look she wore right before she dismantled someone’s life for her own amusement. To Amara, being told she was "the beauty" while I was "the brains" wasn't a compliment; it was an insult. In her mind, there was no room for equality. She didn't want to be a part of a talented pair of daughters; she wanted to be the only sun in the sky, and she wanted me to be the dirt beneath her heels.Her eyes locked onto Damien, and I could practically hear the gears turning in her head. She had found a new target, a more glittering prize than Landon could ever be. The game had officially begun, and the stakes were everything to
Aria’s P.O.VMy stomach dropped so fast it felt like the floor had disappeared beneath me.This.This was exactly what I had been afraid of all morning.Not just seeing Amara. Not just the awkwardness, the forced politeness, or the inevitable emotional damage of being in the same room as her.No, this was worse. Much worse.I had been terrified of one very specific possibility. That the moment Amara laid eyes on Damien, she would recognize exactly what he was.Powerful. Wealthy. Intelligent. Controlled. Devastatingly attractive.Everything Landon had pretended to be and failed at.And because Amara had spent her entire life chasing the brightest, shiniest thing in the ro
Aria’s P.O.VBy the time we arrived at Belladonna Opera House, I had already imagined at least twelve different ways this day could go horribly wrong.None of them ended well.I sat beside Damien in the back seat, pretending to review notes on my tablet while my stomach slowly twisted itself into knots. The elegant stone exterior of the opera house came into view through the tinted window, grand and imposing, its towering arches and carved details somehow making everything feel more serious.This was a mistake. A terrible, horrible mistake.“Aria.”I blinked and looked up.Damien was watching me. His gaze was calm but sharp, the kind that missed absolutely nothing.“What?” I managed to squeak out.“You’ve been quiet all morning.” He mused.“I’m working.”“No, you’re overthinking.” His eyes narrowed slightly.I forced a small smile. “That too.”His eyes narrowed even further. “What’s wrong?”There it was again..the question I had spent the entire day avoiding.I could tell him the trut







