All Chapters of THE BILLIONAIRE'S STAND-IN BRIDE: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

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’

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

Aria’s POV Dmitri found him by midday, tracking a pattern of movements across three neighboring properties until a cross-referenced utility record finally placed him in a small rented cottage less than two miles from the estate. “He’s been living practically within sight of us this entire time,” Romeo said, studying the address on Dmitri’s tablet. “Under a different name, but the same face.” I felt something cold settle in my stomach at that, imagining him going about an ordinary life so close by, quietly watching us from a distance that had never once felt threatening simply because we hadn’t known to look for him. “Bring him in,” Romanov said. “Carefully. I want him talking, not injured.” It took Dmitri’s team less than an hour to locate and secure him, and by early afternoon, the groundskeeper sat across from us in a small, windowless room usually reserved for storage, his hands cuffed loosely in front of him, his expression caught somewhere between resignation and fear. I s

Aria’s POV The revised meeting details were finalized by midnight, Dmitri’s second contingency team already briefed and positioned to rehearse their approach before dawn. I should have felt reassured by how thoroughly we’d covered every angle we could think of. Instead, a quiet unease lingered, refusing to settle no matter how solid the plan appeared on paper. I sat near the window, watching the last of the security team finish their rehearsal walkthrough across the darkened lawn, their movements precise and rehearsed, everything about tonight designed to leave as little as possible to chance. Dmitri’s tablet chimed just after we’d finished reviewing the final details, the sound cutting sharply through the late, exhausted quiet of the study. “Another message,” he said, already opening it before any of us could respond. The room went still. Dmitri turned the screen toward us, the same plain, unsigned formatting as before, though the tone had shifted into something colder, more di

Aria’s POV The conference room was smaller than I expected, a single table, two chairs, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the parking structure where I knew Romeo waited, invisible but close. A woman stood near the window when I entered, her back to me, silhouetted against the gray morning light. I paused just inside the doorway, taking in the room in the same careful, methodical way Dmitri had drilled into me the night before—exits, sightlines, anything that might matter if this went wrong. The woman didn’t turn immediately, letting the silence stretch a beat longer than comfortable before finally facing me. “You’re punctual,” she said, turning to face me. She was older than I expected, elegant in a way that felt deliberate rather than natural, every detail of her appearance calculated to project quiet, unshakable authority. I didn’t recognize her, though something in the precise way she moved, the particular tilt of her head as she studied me, tugged uncomfortably at a memor