Aria stood at the edge of the balcony, the cold wind pulling at the hem of her satin robe as she gazed down at the city lights below. The city, a world away from the suffocating mansion she called home, glittered with a promise of freedom she could almost taste. Each flicker of light felt like a reminder of everything she was missing, everything she could have had if she hadn't made the desperate choice to walk into Kieran Anderson's office that day.
She closed her eyes for a brief second, the sting of her mother's sudden collapse still fresh. The hospital bills, the fear, the helplessness. Her mother needed surgery, but the money wasn't there. And then, the offer she'd made. Kieran. A billionaire, a business tycoon, a man who could offer her everything—or destroy her in an instant.
The wind tugged at her robe again, and for a moment, Aria imagined what it would feel like to let go—to fall into the abyss. To erase the constant ache in her chest, the weight of her soul drowning under the pressure of her own decisions. But she couldn't. Not now. Not yet.
She wasn't that weak. She had to remind herself of that. She had to survive.
The glass door behind her slid open, and Kieran's familiar presence filled the air. He didn't need to say anything for her to know it was him. His aura, suffocating and powerful, clung to the room like a storm waiting to break.
"You'll catch a cold," Kieran's voice was low, too calm, as if the tension between them wasn't as palpable as it felt.
Aria didn't respond at first. She kept her back to him, hoping the distance would create the illusion of some kind of barrier between them. But she knew it wouldn't.
"I'm fine," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, trying to convince herself as much as him.
There was a slight pause before he approached. She felt the shift in the air as his footsteps came closer, and then the warmth of his body behind her. It was a strange juxtaposition—the cold wind and his undeniable heat. His presence filled the space between them, closing any remaining gaps that could've provided even an ounce of space to breathe.
"You've been quiet since dinner," he said, his tone neutral, like he hadn't just humiliated her in front of his entire board of directors.
Aria didn't want to face him. She didn't want to see the cold, calculating look that she knew would be in his eyes. Instead, she pressed her palms against the railing in front of her, hoping to steady herself.
"Maybe I've had enough of your games," she replied, her voice shaking, but she wasn't sure if it was from the wind or the fury simmering beneath her skin.
Kieran's response was almost too calm. "It's not a game, Aria. It's just business."
"Business?" She spun around to face him, her anger bubbling to the surface. "You made me look like a fool in front of your entire board. What part of that is business?"
His jaw tightened. "I simply corrected you. It wasn't personal."
"Then maybe you should've considered that before you decided to humiliate me in front of everyone." She took a step closer, her own fury matching his. "You could've handled it differently, but no—you decided to make an example of me."
He didn't flinch. "If you don't understand the rules, then maybe you should stay out of the game."
Her heart clenched. She had never felt so small, so insignificant in her life.
"You said I was your wife," she said, her voice faltering slightly as the words she'd held in for so long escaped her. "You told me that I mattered. But you treat me like… like a thing. A possession. A tool to use when it's convenient."
He didn't move. Didn't even blink. The silence between them was thick with unspoken truths, and for a moment, Aria thought she might drown in it.
"You are my wife," he said, his voice dark, but there was no warmth in it. "Which means you reflect me. When you speak, you speak as Mrs. Kieran Anderson. If you can't uphold that title with the respect it demands, then don't expect me to show you respect in return."
The sting of his words hit her harder than she cared to admit.
"I'm more than just a title, Kieran," she whispered, her chest tight with emotion. "I'm not just your reflection. I'm not just here to be a part of your perfect image. But that's all you see me as, isn't it? A reflection of your power. A trophy. A doll to display on your arm when it suits you."
His eyes darkened, and for a moment, she thought he might snap. But instead, he leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, "You're exactly that. A reflection. You're mine, Aria. Everything you are now belongs to me."
The words sent a chill through her spine, but she refused to show weakness. She stepped back, shaking her head. "I won't be your puppet."
"You already are," he murmured, his voice like ice, cutting through the air.
Her breath caught in her throat, but she refused to let him see how much those words hurt. Instead, she lifted her chin, trying to summon the courage she needed to escape his grasp.
"Then maybe I'll find someone who doesn't treat me like an object," she said, her voice firm, even as her insides trembled.
His eyes flashed with something—possessiveness? Anger? Perhaps a mix of both. He took a step forward, closing the distance between them.
"You think you have a choice in this?" he said, his voice low and dangerous. "You think you can walk away? You're mine, Aria. You always will be."
Something inside her snapped. She was so tired. Tired of being controlled, tired of being nothing more than a piece on his chessboard.
"Don't test me," he warned, his grip tightening on her wrist, pulling her toward him.
Her heart raced, but this time, the fear wasn't enough to stop her.
"I'm not afraid of you," she said, her voice steady despite the adrenaline rushing through her veins.
Kieran's lips curled into a smirk, but there was nothing playful about it. "You should be."
He didn't release her wrist, didn't step back. Instead, he held her there, his eyes narrowing as if he were trying to decide whether to push her further or let her go.
Finally, he let go of her wrist, his eyes cold as he stepped away. But the tension didn't dissipate. If anything, it grew thicker, heavier. There was a storm brewing between them—one that neither of them seemed capable of avoiding.
With a flick of his wrist, he motioned toward the door. "You're not going anywhere. Not tonight."
Aria hesitated for a moment, then turned her back on him, heading inside. Her heart was racing, her hands shaking, but she was done being controlled. She wouldn't let him destroy her.
As she entered the bedroom, she slammed the door shut behind her, breathing heavily. But her mind raced. What had she done? Has she gone too far?
Downstairs, a sleek black car pulled into the driveway, its tires crunching against the gravel as it came to a stop. Aria didn't hear it at first, too lost in her own thoughts.
But then, a figure emerged from the shadows, tall, confident, with a smirk that spoke of a past Aria had long tried to forget. Sebastian Wolfe.
Her heart stuttered in her chest. Sebastian.
Kieran's former business rival.
And Aria's former lover.
The man who once vowed to burn Kieran's empire to the ground—and take what Kieran cherished most.
He was back.
And he had come for her.