Damon“Is everything alright here?”Mum. Of course.“Yes, Mum. Why wouldn’t it be?”“I just noticed you both weren’t in the sitting room and thought I’d check in,” she says.Just as I’m about to speak, Ava cuts in. “Yeah—I needed an escape from Grace’s endless questions. Is she always like that, or am I just lucky?”“Oh, dear. She’s always been a sour one. You’ve got to be careful around her,” Mum says, slipping into an easy rhythm with Ava as they walk off together.One minute she’s furious and throwing slaps, the next she’s in full character. I really did make the best choice for an actress.“Sweetheart, you’re just going to leave me standing here?” I call out, stopping them.“My love, quit whining. A few more hours and you’ll have my full attention,” Ava says, then ambles back over. With a soft smile, she brushes her lips against mine in a tender kiss, catching me completely off guard. It’s brief. Soft. But it sends a stupid, involuntary jolt through me, like my lips haven’t gotte
Damon“She’s gone.”What??!“What the hell do you mean by that, Leo? What happened? You were supposed to watch her, dammit,” I curse through the phone, barely keeping it together.“She was right here. I briefly stepped away from the door to check with the other assignment you gave me. The other guys were on their brea—”I cut him off before he can finish. “For fuck’s sake, Leo! This is more important than any other task I send your way. You better find her. NOW!”My voice booms through the line. “The freaking instruction was ‘Man her door at all times!’ I say one thing! One! And you all decide to do the opposite!” I end the call before I say something worse.Ava. Ava. Ava.I should’ve known. Should’ve predicted it. She’s always been like this—impulsive, unpredictable. But I didn’t think she’d actually do it. Not this time.Where do I even start? What kind of story can I manufacture to Father? Those vultures at home already think she’s a fake– just a pretty face I pulled in for appeara
AriaHow he manages to get under my skin is something that’ll probably take me a while to understand. He’s lucky I haven’t figured out a way to reach Ava. Contract or no contract, I’d have been long gone.Accusing me of seducing his brother? How low could he possibly go? I feel both satisfaction and regret from the way I acted—slapping him.Nobody should have the power to rile me up. Not like that. Not in public.I’ve always been the one to respond with indifference and calmness, rather than lashing out. But ever since I woke from the coma, I’ve been reactive. I never knew I had it in me—until the ill-fated day I met Grumpy.Time and time again, I surprised even myself.For the first time, Damon was at a loss for words. And why?A kiss.In that moment, as I waltzed over to him with a fake smile plastered across my face, I had no idea what I was doing.But the closer I got, the clearer it became.Shut him up with a kiss. And I did. Just lightly—but I did.I caught the look of surprise
Aria Light penetrates my eyes before I even open them.It's crisp and clinical, and everything smells like antiseptic and plastic. There’s a quiet hum beneath everything—machines, perhaps. The continuous beep of a monitor next to me confirms something I don't want to admit.Hospital. Again.I try to move, but my arms fail me. There's an IV in the back of my hand.I open my eyes.Fluorescent ceiling tiles hang above me. A hanging drape is drawn halfway around the bed, and a hard sheet covers me up to my chest. My body feels as if it has been dropped down a precipice and then regretfully sewn back together.My lips are dry, and my tongue tastes like metal. When I try to speak, all I manage to let out is a cracked, hollow rasp.The memories come in fragments.Running. The park. Barking dogs.Damon—shouting, furious.His tight grip on my arms. Me yelling.Then the ground. A jolt. Everything turning black.The monitor beside me spikes with my heartbeat.The door swings open, and Dr Jenna
AriaThe next few days pass faster than I expect. That might be because of the steady stream of pain meds, or maybe it’s the simple rhythm of hospital life—nurses in and out, vitals checked, food trays delivered like clockwork. Still, nothing distracts me quite like the fact that Damon keeps showing up.Every. Single. Day.He never says he’s coming, but he always does. Always around the same time, too—like he’s scheduled it between corporate meetings and brooding in penthouses. And he's always armed with something—food, water, a sarcastic comment.“You’re looking less like a corpse today,” he says one morning, dropping a bag of takeout onto my tray table.I narrow my eyes. “Charming.”“Not trying to charm you. I'm trying to make sure Mother doesn’t notice you’ve lost an ounce.” He unpacks the container like it were a normal part of his life. Like, feeding me was just one more business obligation. Well, it was.I watch him closely. There’s a twitch in his brow when he thinks I’m not pa
DamonLetter?Who the hell still writes a letter?It’s not the kind of thing that shows up in this house. Not with my systems, my protocols. Everything’s monitored, filtered, and controlled. That’s the point. So when the maid shoved the envelope into my hand earlier, it barely registered. Some PR stunt, probably. A thank-you from a client’s assistant. But now, standing in the dim hallway, my eyes catch the opening line, and every muscle in my body locks up.Hey Aria,It’s been a minute.How is he treating you?A low buzz floods my ears.I’m asking because it’s important. To me.I can always come to your rescue. I know you're trapped.The words turn razor-sharp.Now, don’t rack your head with thoughts, my darling.You don’t know who I am. Or do you? But, rest assured, I know you. I see you, and I know your struggles. Be good. I’ll keep in touch. Don’t ask how. I’ll see you before you see me.Till next time—whenever that is.The paper rustles in my hand as I lower it.What the act
Aria It’s loud. Too loud. It sounds too far away and near at the same time. I squint my eyes open and close them back immediately. Too bright! I try again—slowly this time—and adjust my eyes to the bright light. I take in my surroundings. The white ceiling is filled with bright fluorescent light right above me, and my bedside is filled with machines and monitors plugged into my body on my right. I look to my left and — Is that a person? Standing with his hands in the pockets of his three-piece suit, while facing the window, his broad back fills most of the window overlooking the hospital view. The rays of the sunshine on his hair make it a colour blend of salt and pepper. It looks messy, like it’s been run through several times. He certainly looks attractive from the back. Who’s that? I try to make out how familiar that build is from the back. It’s not. As if he read my thoughts, he turns around and meets my eyes. “You’re awake.” His face remains expressionless as he stalks t
Aria My eyes open to darkness. I bolt up from the single bed I’m placed on and get hit with dizziness and a sharp pain in my head again. I lay back on the bed and try to adjust my eyes to the darkness, confusion still fogging my brain. There was absolute darkness, save for the ray of moonlight flooding the room through the tiny window left open by the upper side of the wall. The memories of today hit me; waking up, seeing Damon, getting dragged out of the hospital... It wasn’t a dream. Tears well up in my eyes as I shut them tightly as if to make this nightmare go away. I wish it would. Then I wouldn’t find myself in this hell. I wouldn’t have to face that bastard again. As if my thoughts conjure him, I hear the door creak open and reveal the silhouette of the devil himself. He’s still dressed in that attire from earlier, except the tie and suit are gone. I notice his white shirt glistening in the dark room. I shut my eyes and try to pretend like I’m asleep, ignoring the heavy t
DamonLetter?Who the hell still writes a letter?It’s not the kind of thing that shows up in this house. Not with my systems, my protocols. Everything’s monitored, filtered, and controlled. That’s the point. So when the maid shoved the envelope into my hand earlier, it barely registered. Some PR stunt, probably. A thank-you from a client’s assistant. But now, standing in the dim hallway, my eyes catch the opening line, and every muscle in my body locks up.Hey Aria,It’s been a minute.How is he treating you?A low buzz floods my ears.I’m asking because it’s important. To me.I can always come to your rescue. I know you're trapped.The words turn razor-sharp.Now, don’t rack your head with thoughts, my darling.You don’t know who I am. Or do you? But, rest assured, I know you. I see you, and I know your struggles. Be good. I’ll keep in touch. Don’t ask how. I’ll see you before you see me.Till next time—whenever that is.The paper rustles in my hand as I lower it.What the act
AriaThe next few days pass faster than I expect. That might be because of the steady stream of pain meds, or maybe it’s the simple rhythm of hospital life—nurses in and out, vitals checked, food trays delivered like clockwork. Still, nothing distracts me quite like the fact that Damon keeps showing up.Every. Single. Day.He never says he’s coming, but he always does. Always around the same time, too—like he’s scheduled it between corporate meetings and brooding in penthouses. And he's always armed with something—food, water, a sarcastic comment.“You’re looking less like a corpse today,” he says one morning, dropping a bag of takeout onto my tray table.I narrow my eyes. “Charming.”“Not trying to charm you. I'm trying to make sure Mother doesn’t notice you’ve lost an ounce.” He unpacks the container like it were a normal part of his life. Like, feeding me was just one more business obligation. Well, it was.I watch him closely. There’s a twitch in his brow when he thinks I’m not pa
Aria Light penetrates my eyes before I even open them.It's crisp and clinical, and everything smells like antiseptic and plastic. There’s a quiet hum beneath everything—machines, perhaps. The continuous beep of a monitor next to me confirms something I don't want to admit.Hospital. Again.I try to move, but my arms fail me. There's an IV in the back of my hand.I open my eyes.Fluorescent ceiling tiles hang above me. A hanging drape is drawn halfway around the bed, and a hard sheet covers me up to my chest. My body feels as if it has been dropped down a precipice and then regretfully sewn back together.My lips are dry, and my tongue tastes like metal. When I try to speak, all I manage to let out is a cracked, hollow rasp.The memories come in fragments.Running. The park. Barking dogs.Damon—shouting, furious.His tight grip on my arms. Me yelling.Then the ground. A jolt. Everything turning black.The monitor beside me spikes with my heartbeat.The door swings open, and Dr Jenna
AriaHow he manages to get under my skin is something that’ll probably take me a while to understand. He’s lucky I haven’t figured out a way to reach Ava. Contract or no contract, I’d have been long gone.Accusing me of seducing his brother? How low could he possibly go? I feel both satisfaction and regret from the way I acted—slapping him.Nobody should have the power to rile me up. Not like that. Not in public.I’ve always been the one to respond with indifference and calmness, rather than lashing out. But ever since I woke from the coma, I’ve been reactive. I never knew I had it in me—until the ill-fated day I met Grumpy.Time and time again, I surprised even myself.For the first time, Damon was at a loss for words. And why?A kiss.In that moment, as I waltzed over to him with a fake smile plastered across my face, I had no idea what I was doing.But the closer I got, the clearer it became.Shut him up with a kiss. And I did. Just lightly—but I did.I caught the look of surprise
Damon“She’s gone.”What??!“What the hell do you mean by that, Leo? What happened? You were supposed to watch her, dammit,” I curse through the phone, barely keeping it together.“She was right here. I briefly stepped away from the door to check with the other assignment you gave me. The other guys were on their brea—”I cut him off before he can finish. “For fuck’s sake, Leo! This is more important than any other task I send your way. You better find her. NOW!”My voice booms through the line. “The freaking instruction was ‘Man her door at all times!’ I say one thing! One! And you all decide to do the opposite!” I end the call before I say something worse.Ava. Ava. Ava.I should’ve known. Should’ve predicted it. She’s always been like this—impulsive, unpredictable. But I didn’t think she’d actually do it. Not this time.Where do I even start? What kind of story can I manufacture to Father? Those vultures at home already think she’s a fake– just a pretty face I pulled in for appeara
Damon“Is everything alright here?”Mum. Of course.“Yes, Mum. Why wouldn’t it be?”“I just noticed you both weren’t in the sitting room and thought I’d check in,” she says.Just as I’m about to speak, Ava cuts in. “Yeah—I needed an escape from Grace’s endless questions. Is she always like that, or am I just lucky?”“Oh, dear. She’s always been a sour one. You’ve got to be careful around her,” Mum says, slipping into an easy rhythm with Ava as they walk off together.One minute she’s furious and throwing slaps, the next she’s in full character. I really did make the best choice for an actress.“Sweetheart, you’re just going to leave me standing here?” I call out, stopping them.“My love, quit whining. A few more hours and you’ll have my full attention,” Ava says, then ambles back over. With a soft smile, she brushes her lips against mine in a tender kiss, catching me completely off guard. It’s brief. Soft. But it sends a stupid, involuntary jolt through me, like my lips haven’t gotte
AriaThe lights inside the mansion are blinding after the dimness of the garden. I blink against them, pulse still raging, my breath catching with each step. The argument outside plays on a loop in my head—Damon’s cold accusation, the slap, his warning.I push open the doors to the dining room, and everything screeches back to life. Everyone’s still seated. Joshua walks in a moment after me, all too pleased with himself. He’s still smirking. I can feel Damon’s presence behind me—rigid, burning with restraint.I walk past Joshua without looking at him and take my seat beside Damon. His chair scrapes slightly as he sits last, his expression carved from stone. I don’t acknowledge him.Grace’s voice slices through the room like a knife. “So, Aria, tell us more about your family. You said they’re from Maryland? What kind of business did they run again?”My eyes widen in surprise. “Hardware. My—my father ran a chain of hardware stores.”“Really? What’s the company called? Maybe I’ve heard o
Aria"Yes. You."Joshua's smirk irritates me in a way that makes me want to both slap him and look away. Yet, I can’t seem to pull my eyes from his. The heat creeping up my cheeks is undeniable.I shoot him a glare, my disbelief evident. "Excuse me?" I snap. "Are you seriously hitting on me outside the bathroom?"He shrugs, completely unfazed by my reaction. "Relax, Aria. I'm joking. Sort of. You’re beautiful, though. And technically, you’re not married yet."I fold my arms, a wave of disgust washing over me. "You followed me out here just to say that?"He raises his hands in mock surrender. "Okay, okay. I’m just saying, if my brother ever messes up—and trust me, he will—you have options. Namely, me."My jaw clenches, anger bubbling just beneath the surface. I open my mouth to retort, but before I can say anything, a familiar voice cuts through the tension."Babe?"Damon.My heart skips a beat as I turn to see him striding towards me. His movements are deliberate, but I can sense the
AriaI plaster a wide smile on my face as Damon leads me to sit.“It’s nice to meet you all. I’ve heard so much,” I say, bowing slightly on my seat beside Damon. His mother is sat at the right, while his father is at the head of the table. She must be his favourite wife.There’s an awkward silence as I look around the dining table, scanning their faces to gauge their reactions to my presence. Michael Stone looks at me with an unreadable expression, studying me in an attempt to find something that gives me away. Damon has so much resemblance to his father, especially with his eyes.I smile at him and avert my eyes, shifting it to the person sitting by his left. It’s Damon’s stepmother, Grace Stone. I spent the past week familiarising myself with their names, looks, traits – you name it.She meets my eyes and shoots me a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Her son, James, is sitted beside her, gaping at me like he just saw a ghost. He averts his eyes from me quickly when I meet his