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NINE: Romeo's Last Warning
publish date:
2026-07-16 21:30:34
Latest chapter
THE BILLIONAIRE'S STAND-IN BRIDE ONE HUNDRED FIFTEEN
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
THE BILLIONAIRE'S STAND-IN BRIDE ONE HUNDRED FOURTEEN
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
THE BILLIONAIRE'S STAND-IN BRIDE ONE HUNDRED THIRTEEN
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
THE BILLIONAIRE'S STAND-IN BRIDE ONE HUNDRED TWELVE
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
THE BILLIONAIRE'S STAND-IN BRIDE ONE HUNDRED ELEVEN
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
THE BILLIONAIRE'S STAND-IN BRIDE ONE HUNDRED TEN
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
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