The confession came two nights later, unprompted, like Adrian had grown tired of the half-truths hanging between them. Aria was in his study again—not snooping this time, just sitting in the leather chair with her knees drawn up, staring at nothing. The USB drive from Isabella burned a hole in her pocket. Adrian walked in, loosened his tie, and closed the door behind him with that same deliberate calm that now set her teeth on edge.He didn’t sit. He leaned against the desk, arms crossed, looking at her like he was deciding how much to reveal. “You deserve the whole story,” he said finally. “Not the polished version I gave you before.”Aria stayed silent, watching him. The engagement ring felt heavier than ever on her finger, a constant reminder of promises that now tasted like lies.“Fifteen years ago, your father didn’t just compete with mine,” Adrian began, his voice low and steady but threaded with old pain. “He hunted us. My dad’s company was small but solid—family-run, good peop
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