Aria Vale
The knock on the door shattered the fragile bubble we had created in the office. It was a sharp reminder of the reality beyond this room, the world that wouldn't let us forget who we were.
Damian's eyes flicked toward the door, then back to me, his expression unreadable. There was a brief moment of hesitation before he stepped back, giving me space—just enough to collect myself.
"Aria," he said softly, his voice carrying a weight that felt like a promise. "We're not done here."
I watched him carefully as he turned, heading toward the door, but his words echoed in my mind. There was no hiding now—not from him, and not from myself. Whatever this was between us—whatever game we were playing—was about to get even more dangerous.
I didn't move immediately. My body was still charged with the electricity of his nearness, my heart racing at the thought of what he might do next. But when the door opened, I snapped out of my trance, forcing myself to step away from the edge.
The assistant entered, a look of barely contained urgency in her eyes. She glanced between me and Damian, clearly sensing the lingering tension, but she didn't address it. Instead, she handed me a folder.
"Urgent report from the board," she said, her tone brisk, professional.
I nodded, taking the folder from her hands and flipping it open. But the contents inside didn't immediately register. My thoughts were elsewhere—on the man who had just left my office. And on the cryptic message I'd received earlier. My mind was caught in a web of uncertainty, tangled between what I wanted and what I feared.
After the assistant left, I closed the folder and set it aside, my fingers absently tapping on the edge of the desk. I couldn't let it go. Damian had been right—there was something I was hiding, something I didn't even want to face. And the more he dug, the more I knew it would eventually surface.
But I wouldn't let it happen. Not yet.
A sudden ring from my phone broke through my thoughts.
Unknown Number.
I hesitated before answering, a pit forming in my stomach. The last time I'd received a call from an unknown number, it had been bad news. This time, I wasn't sure I wanted to know what it was.
"Hello?" My voice was steady, but inside, I was bracing for whatever was about to come.
"Aria Vale," the voice on the other end said, its tone gruff, unfamiliar. "It's time to pay up."
I froze, the blood draining from my face. The words sent a chill down my spine. This wasn't just about business anymore. It wasn't just the fight for control. There was something darker at play—something that had been building in the background, something tied to the mess I was in with Damian.
"Who is this?" I asked, my voice faltering despite my best efforts.
"You don't need to know," the voice responded coldly. "Just know that if you don't act now, everything will come crashing down. Your father's debts—they're still owed. And they're coming to collect."
The line went dead before I could respond.
I stood there, the phone pressed to my ear, my mind reeling. Damian's words echoed in my head. I wasn't in control. Not anymore.
But the voice on the other end had just made something clear. The past was coming for me, and it wasn't just about my father's secrets—it was about something far worse, something I wasn't prepared for.
And somehow, Damian was in the middle of it.
I took a shaky breath and turned to the window, staring out at the skyline once again. The weight of the world was pressing down on me, and I knew that everything was about to change.
The game had just gotten a whole lot more dangerous.
---
The message burned in my mind like a lit fuse:
You don't know the whole story. But I do. Meet me.
No name. No return address. Just a photo. Damian shaking hands with a man whose funeral I had attended when I was sixteen.
A man who had worked directly under my father.
This wasn't just a game anymore. It was a haunting.
I'd spent years mastering manipulation, but this—this was someone who knew how to stay hidden. Someone watching me from places I couldn't see. Every anonymous call. Every blocked number. Every whisper that made my skin crawl wasn't random.
They were breadcrumbs.
And I was starving for the truth.
---
I started with the photograph. No digital records. But I remembered the ring on the man's hand—an old signet from the Vale Foundation. Rare. Reserved. The kind of thing only legacy employees wore. I had one contact left from those days—Carmen.
She answered on the second ring.
"You still poking dead dogs, Aria?" she asked dryly.
"Only when they refuse to stay buried."
Silence.
Then: "Come alone. No heels. You'll need to run."
---
It took three hours to reach the underground bar Carmen operated in the warehouse district. She met me at the back, chain-smoking, eyes sharp like always.
"Who sent you this?" she asked, holding the photo.
"You tell me."
She exhaled a long trail of smoke. "This woman… Elena Ward. She was dangerous. Smart, too. Too smart. Your father trusted her, maybe more than he should've. But after he died? She vanished. Burned her credentials. Started running ops out of sight. If she's back…" Carmen looked at me, expression unreadable. "You might already be in her game."
That's what I was afraid of.
---
Later that night, another message came. No text. Just a live GPS ping on a burner number.
I followed it.
A crumbling motel on the east side. I crept through the parking lot, heart slamming against my ribs. Every instinct screamed this could be a trap—but I needed answers more than safety.
Room 17.
The door was ajar. I pushed it open.
Empty.
Except for a single tape recorder sitting on the nightstand.
I pressed play.
Her voice came through, smooth, low, and unforgiving.
"If you're hearing this, you've finally decided to stop pretending you know everything. Good. Your father's death wasn't an accident, Aria. And Damian Wolfe—he was there. Find out what The Monarch means. That's where it all started. Tick tock."
Click.
The tape stopped.
And for the first time in years, I felt cold down to my bones.