LOGINAria's POV
“Marriage? To whom?” I asked in sheer confusion as I got up and my father sighed, leaning into his chair. “See what I meant? This was why I didn't want to talk about it. It's crazy to think about it.” He replied but I shook my head. It was crazy truly, but if this was the only option, maybe I would finally be doing something good for my family. “That's not what I meant. I just wanted to know who I would be getting married to and why this can save our family.” I muttered and he looked up at me with hope in his eyes, giving me hope as well. “He's, well, a reclusive tycoon. You should have heard of him. Romanov Sleigh.” He replied and my brows furrowed as the name registered in my head. “Hold on, the billionaire tycoon? The one the world is sure is involved in underworld businesses?” I asked and when he nodded, it felt like I had just stepped into a trap. “That very one.” “Why does he want to get married? He's reclusive. Did he choose me specifically? Why?” I asked and my father had to put his hands out to stop me from asking more questions. “Actually…” He started and my eyes narrowed. “He didn't exactly choose you.” “Then?” I asked in confusion, and he let out a sigh. “What are you not telling me?” “He wants to get married for reasons unknown to anyone and his wife has been chosen. But he hasn't seen her before. Now, she's disappeared. No one knows where she's gone but Romanov has no idea.” He explained and my mouth hung open in shock. “His bride disappeared? Did she die or…” “No one knows.” He replied and my heart stopped. “It could be that she ran away or got kidnapped. No one knows actually. But Romanov has to get married in two days. And his bride will automatically get over half of his properties.” He explained and I paused, turning to look at him in shock. “Half? That man is a billionaire! If that's the case, why would his bride run? Unless she was in trouble.” I muttered, mostly to myself than to him and he sighed. “Wait, how do you know all this?” “I received a letter yesterday.” He confessed, taking out a piece of paper and handing it to me. “The person offered a million dollars and a partnership with our company only if you agree to be a stand-in bride for the tycoon.” “So, I was technically chosen by this anonymous person?” I asked and he nodded. “You don't even know who it is. Why should you believe him?” “He's not exactly anonymous, Aria. He's the personal secretary to Romanov. His head would be on a plate if Romanov found out that his bride was missing.” He explained, and I sighed, slumping into the chair as all this information made my head spin. “Romanov didn't choose me but his secretary did. If I don't agree, we would be jeopardized and his secretary would be as good as dead.” This was just pure blackmail. Especially since I didn't have a choice. “What if he finds out the truth?” I questioned, placing the paper on the couch. “What if somehow Romanov knows that I'm not his real bride? What if the real bride shows up someday?” “I doubt he'd believe her or find out the truth. He has never seen her before. So it's up to you to make him believe you're his bride.” Father responded as he made his way to me and took my hands. “It's too risky,” I muttered, my brows furrowed slightly. “One slight mistake and… I could be dead.” “It's okay if you don't want to do this, dear.” He said and I glanced at him. “You're my daughter and I won't force you to do whatever you don't want to do.” Father had never called me dear or spoken to me with such a soft voice. It made me feel special, especially after knowing that I could save the company once again. Maybe if I did this, my mother would stop hating me as well. Maybe she would see that I could be useful too. “I'll do it,” I muttered and he looked at me in surprise. “I'll do anything to make our family better. It's just getting married, right? How hard could it be?” I hoped I wouldn't regret making that decision or that statement. But there was no other choice. “Thank you, how lucky am I to have a daughter like you?” He said with a smile and I blushed, waving shyly. “You can return home. I'll let him know that you've agreed. But first…” He stood up and walked to the desk before taking out a document. “What's that?” I asked and he smiled at me. “A contract. To ensure you don't change your mind as his last bride did.” He explained and I muttered a soft “ah” in response. I didn't bother reading through the contract since he assured me that he had read it so I signed and stood up. “I'll be on my way,” I muttered and he nodded, patting my shoulder gently. I walked out of the office with my heart in my throat as I made my way to the elevator. I had just walked out of it when I realized I had left my phone back at the office. I immediately rushed back up, but the moment my hand touched the doorknob, I heard my father's voice, and I froze. “You were right,” He said and I frowned. “She's just a dumb child who would do anything for us. She signed the contract stupidly. Everything that would be hers would immediately belong to us. She has no idea that she's just a vessel to be used to get what we want.” I literally froze in shock, unable to believe my ears. How could he do this to me? “Who cares if the tycoon kills her? As long as we get what we want.” His voice boomed, and it felt like a bomb had just landed in my head.Aria’s POV Dmitri called us both into the study just after midnight, his voice carrying an urgency that pulled me out of bed before I’d even finished processing what he’d said over the phone. “I found something in the photograph,” he said, the moment we walked through the door. “The one from the storage crate. The three men in formal dress.” “The one hanging in the east hallway,” Romanov said, remembering immediately. “You’ve seen that photograph a thousand times, you said.” “I have,” Romanov agreed. “But I’ve never looked at the original this closely before. The version in the hallway has been reframed at some point, cropped slightly differently than the original print Dmitri pulled from the crate.” Dmitri pulled up both images side by side on his laptop screen, the hallway version and the original photograph from Box 4471. “Look at the edges,” he said. “The hallway version cuts off about two inches on the right side compared to the original.” I leaned in, studying the differe
Aria’s POV Dmitri found something the following afternoon that shifted the entire shape of what we thought we understood about Constance, though not in the direction any of us expected. “I’ve been tracing her finances,” he said, waving us both into the study with an urgency that told me whatever he’d found mattered considerably more than routine progress. “Not because I think she’s being paid by the Correction. Something about the pattern never fit that theory properly.” “What did you find instead?” Romanov asked. Dmitri pulled up a series of transactions on his laptop, spanning back further than I expected, the dates stretching across nearly two decades. “Regular deposits,” he said. “Consistent, modest amounts, arriving every few months for years. Not enough to raise obvious suspicion if you weren’t specifically looking for a pattern. But consistent enough that it clearly wasn’t random.” “From where?” I asked. “That’s the interesting part,” Dmitri said. “Not from the Correctio
Aria’s POV Constance agreed to meet us in the small sitting room off the west hallway, a space she’d chosen herself when Romanov asked if she had time to talk, something in her tone suggesting she already understood this wouldn’t be an ordinary conversation. She sat across from us with her usual composed posture, hands folded neatly in her lap, waiting for one of us to begin. If she felt any anxiety about being summoned this way, nothing in her expression revealed it. “You wanted to speak with me,” she said finally, when neither of us started right away. “We did,” Romanov said. “There are some questions we need to ask you. About your history with this family.” “I assumed as much,” Constance said, something careful entering her voice, though her composure remained otherwise perfectly intact. “Dmitri’s been unusually thorough these past few days. I noticed.” “Then you understand why we’re here,” I said. “I have a guess,” Constance said. “Whether my guess is correct remains to be
Aria’s POV I spent the following day doing something I hadn’t expected to find myself doing again so soon: quietly reexamining someone I’d trusted, searching every memory for cracks I might have missed the first time through. Constance behaved exactly as she always had. She joined us for meals, offered calm, practical advice whenever Romanov’s business concerns required her particular expertise, moved through the estate with the same unhurried competence she’d carried since long before I’d arrived. If she knew anything about Dmitri’s discovery, nothing in her demeanor betrayed it. That, more than anything, unsettled me most. I found myself replaying the discovery she’d made weeks earlier, the moment she’d noticed the discrepancy in the household accounts that first pointed our entire investigation toward the Correction’s financial patterns. At the time, it had felt like fortunate timing, sharp attention meeting a problem that happened to matter enormously. Now, sitting with Dmitr
Aria’s POV Four days into the week the letter had given us, Dmitri still hadn’t slept properly. I hadn’t stopped thinking about the letter either. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the careful handwriting again, the same careful phrasing circling back through my mind at odd moments throughout the day. But waiting wouldn’t give us answers on its own. Dmitri had promised to spend every remaining day before the meeting digging through the past, and that morning he was exactly where I’d expected, buried beneath stacks of printouts in the study, his eyes rimmed with the particular exhaustion of someone who hadn’t slept properly in days. “You’ve been at this all night,” I said. “I couldn’t stop,” Dmitri admitted. “Once I started cross-referencing access logs against historical records, I kept finding threads I couldn’t just set aside until morning.” “What kind of threads?” I asked. Dmitri hesitated, something careful entering his expression that I’d learned to recognize whenever he
Aria’s POV The envelope arrived three days after our walk through the estate grounds, delivered by courier rather than mail, with no return address printed anywhere on its plain, cream-colored surface. Dmitri intercepted it at the front gate before it reached the house, his instincts sharpened enough by now that anything unexpected warranted immediate caution. “No sender information,” he said, turning the envelope over carefully in gloved hands. “No postal markings either. Someone hired a courier specifically to avoid leaving a traceable trail.” “Who’s it addressed to?” Romanov asked. Dmitri checked the front once more. “Just your name,” he said, looking at me. “Aria. Nothing else. No last name, no title.” Something cold settled through my chest at that, the particular unease of being singled out by someone who clearly knew exactly who I was without needing any additional identification. “Open it,” I said. Dmitri worked the envelope open carefully, checking first for anything t







