All Chapters of THE WOLFE LEGACY: HEIRESS OF THE EMPIRE: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

~ARIA~My eyes cracked open against the brightness. My head felt like it had been stuffed with cotton.Morning. Already?I blinked slowly, my body heavy and uncooperative. I didn’t remember dreaming. Just… nothingness. Then light. Late-morning light.A yawn escaped my mouth before I could stop it. My limbs ached like I’d run a marathon in my sleep.Why was I so tired? It wasn’t like I had chores. I wasn’t working. I barely had anything to do but exist in this house, eat, and sleep.Still, I had to drag myself out of bed. Every movement felt like I was swimming through something thick and invisible. I forced myself into the bathroom and let the warm water of the shower wash over me, hoping it would wake my spirit the way it did my skin, but it didn’t.By the time I was dressed in soft, casual clothes, I still felt like I hadn’t really arrived in the day.I made my way downstairs for breakfast. When I got to the dining hall, it was empty.Cassian was already gone.Of course, he was. I’

~ARIA~After the long day and a breathtaking dish for dinner, I went back to my room to rest but my body refused to. It raged with storms and pulsed with a strange, unbearable heat like the feeling from earlier but doubled.I kicked off the blanket, only to pull it back up seconds later. My skin felt feverish, not from illness, but something deeper and hungrier - a slow, simmering fire curling through my limbs, coiling low in my belly, demanding something I didn’t have a name for.I twisted in bed again, my breathing shallow, my chest rising and falling like I’d been running. I felt flushed, restless, and desperate.I wasn't certain about what was wrong with me, but I knew it wasn't pain or peace. It was… Craving.The air felt thick against my skin. I couldn’t breathe, so I pushed the sheets away for the last time, sat up, and pressed my palms against the mattress. My nightdress clung to me like a second skin, and without really thinking, I slipped out of bed and opened the door to th

~ARIA~The first thing I felt when I woke up was the ache. It was deep and low, sitting on my back and stretching down to my legs with the kind of soreness that made it hard to move. It felt like I’d pushed myself too far or done something my body hadn’t recovered from yet. Every little shift made me flinch and my whole body felt heavy and worn out.I blinked slowly, trying to orient myself. Sunlight filtered in through the cream curtains of my room. I recognized the tall mirror by the wall, the corner chair where I always left unread books and also the scent of lavender that clung to the pillowcases, but there was something else, something that didn’t belong. Something warm and masculine that threaded between the familiar.A faint smell- rich and warm- a cologne, that clung to the air. I sat up slowly, careful with how sore I felt and the sheet slipped down my body exposing my bare skin.My stomach dipped.I looked down, blinking once - twice - at the sight of my own nudity, then I

~ARIA~Dani hummed quietly as her fingers moved through my hair, separating strands with the kind of care that only came from doing something a hundred times. She came back up after clearing the breakfast tray, saying nothing until I patted the bed beside me. Then, without a word, she sat behind me, legs tucked neatly under her skirt as she began braiding my hair with soft patience.“Your scalp’s tighter than a locked drawer,” she muttered with a light scoff. “You don’t let yourself relax even when you’re sitting still.”“I’m relaxed,” I replied, though my voice came out too thin to sound like the truth.She didn’t argue and simply moved on to another section, her rhythm smooth and practiced. The braid was uneven, half-finished, and she kept tucking little strands back into place. We were talking, but it wasn’t serious, just bits of gossip and light teasing. “The new cook nearly tripped on the back step,” Dani said, chuckling. “Would’ve been a real show if the tray hadn’t gone flying

~CASSIAN~[THE NEXT DAY]The room was already thick with cameras and expectation by the time we arrived. Reporters in tailored suits, publicists on comms, flashes testing their rhythm like a war drum - everyone was here to see one thing:Aria Ravenwood.The woman cast out of the Ravenwood family. The heiress-turned-scandal. My wife.They wanted a glimpse of what shame looked like. They expected her to flinch under the weight of it.Instead, she walked in beside me.And the room shifted.I had seen her moments before, back in her room and for a second, I’d forgotten everything I was meant to be focused on, not because of the dress, though it left nothing to the imagination when it came to the curve of her waist, the quiet elegance of her posture, the way the deep green caught the gold in her skin, but because it wasn’t the dress I would’ve expected her to choose.The Aria I’d studied before our marriage and glimpsed more closely after it, favored soft, classic silhouettes. Quiet elegan