8. The Unthinkable

By the time Aria and Cecil reached the Harper Mansion, the sun had already dipped below the horizon. The city traffic had delayed them for hours, but even exhaustion couldn’t numb the dread curling in Aria’s chest.

As they pulled into the estate’s long driveway, Aria’s eyes immediately locked onto the unfamiliar sight before them—a fleet of luxury cars lined up like a procession of vultures waiting to feast. None of them belonged to her parents.

Her heartbeat quickened.

She barely waited for the engine to stop before she stepped out and hurried toward the front door, Cecil close behind.

Jennifer, the head maid, greeted them at the entrance, her expression strained with unease as she helped them with their coats.

Aria’s voice came out sharper than intended. “Jennifer… whose cars are those? They’re not my parents'.”

Jennifer hesitated before answering, then lowered her voice. “They belong to the executives of the Harper Foundation. Mr. and Mrs. Lambert summoned them here for an emergency meeting... right after your father was taken.”

The words slammed into Aria like a punch to the gut.

Without another second of hesitation, she rushed past Jennifer and into the grand foyer, her footsteps echoing in the cold, hollow silence of a house that no longer felt like home.

It had been so long since she last stepped foot into the heart of her parents’ world—the very foundation they built with honor and compassion. The very reason why they had found her.

Since marrying Elliot, her life had been consumed with the Crimson Claw pack and the pressure of being Luna. She had distanced herself from the Harper legacy, thinking her parents would always be there to carry it forward.

But now, that legacy was on fire—and the only thing left was smoke and whispers.

As she turned the corner, she could hear muffled voices coming from the living room. Powerful men and women are discussing her parents’ fate behind the closed doors of their home.

And suddenly, she realized—she wasn't just fighting to prove her parents' innocence.

She was fighting for everything they had ever built.

As Aria stepped into the lavish yet tense atmosphere of the Harper Mansion’s grand living room, the hum of voices instantly died. One by one, the people gathered rose to their feet, their expressions a mix of surprise, guilt, and discomfort as they laid eyes on her.

She carried herself with quiet strength despite the storm raging inside her, but her voice trembled slightly as she spoke.

“Good evening,” she greeted, her tone polite but taut. “Can someone please explain why this meeting is being held here... instead of the foundation’s main office?”

The silence that followed stretched just a second too long before Thomas, Cecil’s father and one of the most trusted members of the Harper family’s circle, stepped forward solemnly.

“Even if we wanted to meet there, we couldn’t,” he said gravely. “The Federal Bureau of Investigation has sealed the entire premises. No one is allowed in or out. They’ve confiscated every document, every device — even the servers. They said it’s to preserve evidence for the ongoing investigation… requested by the Internal Revenue Service.”

Aria tilted her head back, eyes fluttering closed as a heavy breath escaped her lungs. She ran a hand through her hair and let out a deep, weary sigh before motioning toward the seats.

“Please… sit,” she said softly. Then she took a seat herself, her spine stiff, trying to brace herself for what was coming.

She glanced at the circle of faces, some familiar, some foreign, all wearing a shade of dread. “Can someone… anyone… tell me what exactly happened? Why were my parents suddenly dragged out of their lives, accused of fraud and laundering millions like common criminals?”

The room hesitated again. Then a middle-aged man, firm-jawed and solemn, cleared his throat and stepped forward.

“I’m the Foundation’s Advocacy Director,” he said. “According to the IRS and the FBI, someone submitted a report claiming that a large portion of the foundation’s fundraising proceeds were being misappropriated… and that there were suspicious donations made by questionable sources.”

He paused. “They claim the annual financial records are inconsistent… full of gaps. Based on those accusations, your parents were charged with fraud and laundering money through the charitable fronts.”

Aria pressed her fingers to her temple, trying to dull the pounding headache that was building behind her eyes. Her parents, the most selfless people she knew, were being painted as thieves.

It was unthinkable.

No. Unacceptable.

Her voice cracked slightly as she spoke again, “But even if that’s true… even if there were inconsistencies, why were they sent to Ravenhold Bastille of all places? That’s a maximum-security prison for warlords and terrorists. Shouldn’t they be held by the FBI first for questioning? For due process?”

The silence that followed chilled her to the bone. No one responded. Not because they didn’t want to—but because no one knew.

And that was even more terrifying.

Then a soft, uncertain voice broke through the stillness.

“Hi… Aria,” a young woman, stepped forward nervously. “You probably don’t know me. I’m the General Manager of the foundation. But… I’ve seen your pictures in your mother’s office. She talks about you often.”

Aria’s heart clenched, but she said nothing, allowing the woman to continue.

“I’ve seen the arrest and search warrant,” she said carefully. “And the charges weren’t vague, they were detailed, thorough, and frighteningly specific. The agents knew exactly what they were looking for. It felt like… this wasn’t just an investigation. It was an execution. 

Planned. Precise. Like someone had been preparing this for a very long time,  watching and waiting for the right moment to strike.”

Aria leaned forward, both hands clutched at her head, her elbows resting on her knees as her thoughts spiraled into darkness.

Everything was too perfectly timed.

Her public rejection. Her banishment. And now, this.

All in one day.

‘This isn’t a coincidence,’ she thought bitterly. ‘It’s a coordinated attack. On me. On my parents. On everything we’ve ever stood for.’

Her eyes burned with unshed tears, but she refused to let them fall.

Not yet.

Not until she uncovered the truth, no matter how deep or dangerous it was buried.