Ariana’s POV
“Stay down,” Luca whispered, his body already shielding mine. His hand gripped my arm tight enough to feel bruise, not really though, but he pulled me beneath the edge of the couch.
“What was that?” I gasped.
He didn’t answer. His eyes scanned the broken window across the room, glass glittering like stars on the hardwood floor. A cold breeze sliced through the space, then silence followed, but not the safe kind. It was the charged, listening kind. I held my breath. Then Luca moved fast to check the window. His muscles tensed. “Nothing,” he muttered. “No one out there. But that wasn’t just a random thing.”
I sat up slowly. “You think they found us?”
He met my eyes. “They didn’t need to. This was a warning.”
A warning. I pulled the blanket tighter around myself. My skin was still warm from his touch minutes ago, and slowly it burned with cold dread. “Then they know I’m not dead.”
“Vanessa doesn’t bluff,” he said, pacing toward the fireplace. “If she sends someone to rattle the cage, it means she’s not buying the setup. Which means we need to make her believe it.”
“How?” I asked, standing shakily. “We have staged everything,, the photos, our disappearance.”
“We didn’t leak it wide enough,” he said. “She’s not afraid yet.”
I moved to the window, the cold air biting my skin beyond the broken glass, the woods were still — no movements, just the silence… it howled.
“You think she sent Nathan?”
Luca shook his head. “No. Vanessa wouldn’t risk him yet. She’s saving him for the kill shot.” I flinched at the phrase. “Then who?”
He shrugged. “She may be sending one of her shadows. People like her don’t work alone. They move with people they pay to ensure they keep the silence, no trails.”
I swallowed hard. “Then we have to disappear for real this time.”
He turned to me, jaw tight. “Ari… if we do that, there’s no coming back, no work, no friends, no life in New York. Are you sure you’re ready for that?”
I stared at him. At the man who once vanished to protect me. At the man I almost walked away from twice.
“I’m ready to burn it all,” I whispered. “Because they already tried to erase me once. This time… I erase them.”
*******
The next morning was quiet in a way funerals are quiet. We didn’t talk much. We packed light. I left behind everything I didn’t need—including the version of me that once flinched at confrontation.
Luca loaded the car with two bags and a burner phone he’d activated under a fake name. We didn’t take the highway. We took the back roads, dirt lanes, and forgotten paths that went through the woods like veins. By noon, we crossed into a small upstate town I barely recognized. The motel he picked was rundown and quiet — just three rooms and a neon sign that buzzed like a dying fly. Perfect for ghosts house. Room six smelled like cedar and was chill. The mattress creaked under me when I sat, exhausted. “How long do we stay here?”
“As long as it takes,” Luca said, checking the windows.
My fingers ran across the edge of the pillow. “You think she’ll find us or should I say retaliate?”
“She already did. The shattered window was suspicious to me. I am thinking she’ll try to isolate you.”
“She’s underestimating me,” I said softly. “They all do.”
He smiled faintly. “They won’t for long.”
By nightfall, we had a plan. Not just to vanish — but to fight back.
“I still have a name,” I said, pacing. “A brand. I want to use that. Let’s leak a story. A controlled scandal. Let Vanessa believe I’m off the rails, emotionally spiraling, that I’ve gone cold.”
“Risky,” Luca said. “But if it forces her to act, we should give it a try then. And what next are you thinking?”
“Then we follow her,” I finished. “And end this.”
He stepped toward me, something unreadable in his eyes. “You’re not the same woman I used to know.”
“Good,” I said. “She was too afraid to fight.”
He cupped my face. “And now?”
I leaned into his touch. “Now I’m too angry not to.”
The next day, the headlines dropped.
“Luxury Director Vanishes After Affair Scandal — Sources Claim Emotional Breakdown Behind Sudden Disappearance.”
Anonymous comments, blurry photos with no confirmation but just enough bait. And Vanessa took it.
By dusk, Luca intercepted a call between Vanessa and someone listed only as “Sparrow.” It was coded, but we recognized the keywords they used.
“She’s off balance,” Vanessa said. “Proceed as planned. Leak the footage. Let her fall on her own sword.”
Luca looked up from the transcript. “They’re releasing the video.”
My blood froze. “The one from the hotel?”
He nodded. “Her goal isn’t to destroy you legally. She wants you broken and humiliated.”
I sat down slowly. “Then let her try.”
“But Ariana, once it’s out, there’s no taking it back.”
I looked him dead in the eye. “Let her leak it. And while the world watches me burn… we are going to watch her bleed. I will make sure of that.”
********
Three days later, the video dropped.
Every screen, every feed and every social media account that ever had my name. A two-minute grainy video of me and Luca, half-naked and Kissing. A bedroom I didn’t recognize — but a body they did.
//“Leaked: Ariana Cole’s secret affair exposed.”//
The internet did what it does best. It devoured me. Tweets. Articles. Reels even Clickbait.
“Wife of Neurosurgeon caught cheating on camera.”
“Luxury strategist or sex addict?”
Daniel Cole refuses to comment. I felt as the shame tried to choke me — but I didn’t flinch. I stared at it. I let it play but I didn’t apologize, because I finally understood something.
I didn’t owe anyone my silence.
Later that night, I sat on the motel floor, knees tucked to my chest. Luca watched me from the edge of the bed. “Say the word,” he said, “and we disappear for good.”
I looked at him. “No. Not yet. Not until she’s finished.”
He nodded.
I looked down at my hand.
The wedding ring was gone.
But the fire in my chest? It had never burned brighter.
********
Across town, in a high-rise glass building, Vanessa stared at a screen and smiled.
“She’s ruined,” she said, but she was wrong. I wasn’t ruined. I was just getting started with my own plans.
Ariana’s POV I didn’t go far.Just down the block, to the little rooftop garden above the café where I used to journal when Daniel worked late and I needed air. Funny how it came back to that place. Full circle. I sat with a bottle of water and my phone off, watching the city glitter and hum beneath me like it didn’t care who was heartbroken or healing or somewhere in between. I tried to breathe.But every time I exhaled, his voice came back.// “It was Daniel.”Like a detonator. Like he’d said the one name that still lived under my skin like shrapnel. I had imagined so many reasons Luca might’ve left me. Fear. Immaturity. A sudden loss of love. But never this. Never that he was warned. Never that Daniel had orchestrated it all. And what stung the most? That Luca hadn’t told me. Not after one year.Not after five. Not even when he came back. He waited until I forced him to. And now I didn’t know whether to cry… Or burn the whole truth down.I stayed on the rooftop until the sun dippe
Luca’s POVThey say time heals all wounds. That’s a lie. Time doesn’t heal. It hides. It buries. It teaches you how to function with pain tucked into the folds of your spine, how to smile while bleeding inside, how to explain away nightmares like bad sleep and heartbreak like coincidence.But healing? Healing is a choice. And it’s loud. Messy. Exhausting. I didn’t begin healing the day I left Ariana.I began healing the day I realized I had become the man Daniel said I would be — the one who stayed gone. And that broke me more than any threat ever could.For years after I disappeared, I chased art like it was oxygen. I moved across Europe, photographing shadows instead of people.Graffiti. Old stairwells. Shattered windows. I told myself it was “urban contrast.” But the truth was simpler. I was only drawn to the things that looked ruined.Because I saw myself in them. I told myself Ariana had moved on. Told myself she had probably married someone better. Safer. And when I found out sh
Luca’s POVFifteen Years Ago – The BeginningThe summer I met Ariana Cole, I was broke, sunburnt, and convinced I didn’t believe in fate. I had just lost a contract with a media startup in Florence and was squatting in a borrowed beach shack on the southern coast, doing low-budget photography gigs for tourists and wedding guests with names I couldn’t pronounce. I was 22, hungry, and angry at everything.Then she walked into the café across from the pier — high ponytail, bare shoulders, notebook in one hand, camera in the other — and ordered a hot tea in the middle of a 34-degree afternoon. I laughed without meaning to. She turned, looked at me like I’d interrupted a sacred ritual, and said, “What?”I pointed to the steam rising from her cup. “You’re drinking fire.” She smirked. “Maybe I’m built for it.”I didn’t know it then, but that was the beginning of everything. Not just the love. The undoing.The rewriting. The quiet war we didn’t see coming.*****We spent the next few weeks l
Luca’s POVFifteen Years Ago — Summer. It’s strange how a single moment can divide your life into before and after. For me, it was a phone call.It came late—past midnight—while Ariana slept curled beside me on that motel bed we had rented with cash from my last freelance job. Her hair smelled like sea salt and vanilla lotion. Her breathing was steady. And I had just whispered I love you against her shoulder minutes before. Then my phone buzzed. Unknown number. I should’ve ignored it. I should’ve stayed in that moment, pressed my face into her skin, and promised her again that I wasn’t going anywhere. But I answered. And everything after that became after.*****The voice on the other end was low. Measured. He didn’t give a name. He didn’t need to./ “Luca. You care about her?”I sat up slowly, my body already tense.“Who the hell is this?”A pause. Then:/“If you want Ariana Cole to live the life she deserves, you’ll leave her. Tonight. No notes. No explanation.”My blood chilled.“Y
Ariana’s POVThere are stories that live at the bottom of you. The kind you bury so deep, even your dreams forget how to find them. Until one day—something quiet, something subtle—pulls at the thread. And everything unravels. For me, it was the smell of smoke. Not fire. Not danger. Just burnt cinnamon on the stove. Luca had overtoasted breakfast again. I laughed. He apologized. I waved it off. But the scent… It took me back fifteen years. Back to a different kind of heat. To a beach. To a boy. To the only goodbye that ever shattered me completely.I hadn’t thought about that day in so long. Not the details. Not fully. I had talked around it in therapy. Hinted at it in my journal. But I had never let myself go back. Not fully.Not until now. Luca noticed the way I froze. His eyes narrowed slightly. “You okay?” I nodded. But my voice didn’t come out. Because memory was already clawing at me. Insisting. And I couldn’t run from it this time. So I let it take me.Back to the summer I met th
Ariana’s POVDaniel’s silence used to feel like a wall. Now it felt like a grave. Not of a man — but of an image. The polished version of him that he built carefully and protected viciously. It was falling apart, piece by piece. And this time, he wasn’t spinning the story. He wasn’t posting carefully-worded statements. He wasn’t sitting on podcasts pretending to be evolved. He had disappeared, from Luxe, from media, from relevance. But I knew better than to think he was gone. Men like Daniel didn’t disappear.They regrouped. They calculated. They waited for the world to calm down, so they could sneak back in with a new mask. But this time, I was the one controlling the narrative.Two days after the story broke, Evelyn called with a sharpness in her voice that instantly made me stand.“The Luxe board finalized their vote.”I held my breath.“He’s out.”Just like that. No warning. No grace period. No final speech to the team. “Effective immediately, Daniel Cole has stepped down from h