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EIGHTY-FOUR

ผู้เขียน: Rovelt Vell
last update วันที่เผยแพร่: 2026-08-20 06:29:26

Aria’s POV

By mid-morning, the study had transformed into something closer to a command center than the quiet room it usually was, maps of the estate’s grounds spread across the desk alongside satellite images of three possible meeting locations Dmitri had identified overnight.

I hadn’t slept, not really, though the argument with Romanov the night before had at least settled into something workable rather than the raw, unresolved tension we’d carried into the small hours. Coffee sat forgotte
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  • THE BILLIONAIRE'S STAND-IN BRIDE   EIGHTY-FOUR

    Aria’s POV By mid-morning, the study had transformed into something closer to a command center than the quiet room it usually was, maps of the estate’s grounds spread across the desk alongside satellite images of three possible meeting locations Dmitri had identified overnight. I hadn’t slept, not really, though the argument with Romanov the night before had at least settled into something workable rather than the raw, unresolved tension we’d carried into the small hours. Coffee sat forgotten near my elbow, cold now, though I kept reaching for it anyway out of habit more than any real need for it. “These three sites give us the most control,” Dmitri said, tapping each location in turn. “An old boathouse on the northern edge of the lake, a converted barn on the property’s eastern border, and a small conference room at a business complex Romanov already has legitimate reason to visit.” “The business complex feels safest,” Romeo said. “Public enough to deter anything overtly violent

  • THE BILLIONAIRE'S STAND-IN BRIDE   EIGHTY-THREE

    Aria’s POV Sleep proved impossible after the discovery of the service door, and by the time the estate’s new cameras were finally installed near dawn, I’d given up entirely on pretending rest was coming for me tonight. The house felt different now, every hallway and doorway I passed through carrying a faint, unfamiliar weight, as though simply knowing someone had moved through these spaces uninvited had permanently altered how safe any of it could ever feel again. Romanov found me in the study again, the same room that had felt violated only hours before now simply exhausted, the way every space eventually did after enough hours of vigilance wore through the shock of what had happened in it. “You should sleep,” he said, though the words carried none of the conviction they usually did. “So should you,” I said. “Neither of us is going to.” He sat across from me instead of arguing further, dark circles pressing into the exhaustion already carved across his face. For a moment neith

  • THE BILLIONAIRE'S STAND-IN BRIDE   EIGHTY-TWO

    Aria’s POV Dmitri had the security team sweeping the grounds within minutes, floodlights snapping on across the estate’s perimeter while Romeo pulled up every camera feed the property maintained, scanning for anything that shouldn’t be there. I watched the monitors over Romeo’s shoulder, the grainy exterior feeds showing nothing but empty lawn and the familiar dark shapes of the tree line, nothing to explain the message that had just landed so precisely against everything we’d been discussing in this room. “Nothing on the exterior cameras,” Romeo said, frustration sharpening his voice. “No vehicles on the access roads. No heat signatures beyond our own people.” “That doesn’t mean no one’s out there,” Dmitri said, already moving toward the door. “It means whoever sent that message knows exactly where our blind spots are.” I stayed near the window despite Romanov’s clear preference that I move away from it, unable to shake the feeling that stepping back now would somehow prove we’

  • THE BILLIONAIRE'S STAND-IN BRIDE   EIGHTY-ONE

    Aria’s POV By evening, the message still sat open on the study’s main screen, untouched since Dmitri had first pulled it up, as though none of us quite trusted ourselves to close it without losing something important in the process. Outside, the day had faded into a gray, unremarkable evening, ordinary in every way except for the weight sitting over all of us since the message arrived. I kept glancing back toward the screen every few minutes, as if the words might rearrange themselves into something less certain if I looked at them long enough. “We’re not doing this,” Romanov said, for what felt like the third time that hour. “Meeting with an anonymous voice claiming authority over sixty years of conspiracy is not a negotiation. It’s walking into whatever trap they’ve had decades to design.” “I’m not suggesting we walk in blind,” I said. “I’m suggesting we don’t ignore someone who clearly already knows more about us than we know about them.” “Ignoring them and refusing to meet t

  • THE BILLIONAIRE'S STAND-IN BRIDE   EIGHTY

    Aria’s POV The study looked different by mid-afternoon than it had at dawn, every surface covered now in neat, organized stacks of documents, Dmitri’s meticulous system already imposing order on everything we’d carried back from the Gathering House. Romeo sat hunched over his laptop near the window, cross-referencing financial records against the contact list while Elena reviewed photographs of the founders on the main screen, her expression unreadable. I lingered near the doorway a moment before joining them, still steadying myself from the terrace, the quiet of it already feeling impossibly far away against everything spread out across the desk now. “We’ve confirmed twelve names on that list,” Dmitri said, without looking up from his notes. “Eight appear to still be active. Three are marked with the symbol we saw repeated near several crossed-out entries, which I now believe indicates deceased. One remains unaccounted for entirely.” “The unidentified name,” Romanov said. “The o

  • THE BILLIONAIRE'S STAND-IN BRIDE   SEVENTY-NINE

    Aria’s POV We didn’t speak much on the drive back to the estate, the documents secured in a locked case wedged between Dmitri’s feet, my thoughts still circling the same signature over and over, unable to settle anywhere else. Romanov drove with one hand resting occasionally over mine on the console between us, not saying anything, simply staying present in the only way either of us seemed to have energy left for. I watched the fields blur past the window, unable to hold onto any single thought long enough to make sense of it, my mind returning again and again to the same worn photograph, the same careful signature, the same quiet, ordinary memories now permanently tangled up with everything we’d just uncovered. By the time we reached the estate, exhaustion had settled over all of us in a way that felt different from the adrenaline-driven crashes after Ashgrove or the docks. This wasn’t the ordinary fatigue of danger surviving into safety. It was heavier, slower, the particular we

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