Chapter 5
Aria froze, her fingers tightening against the hem of Ethan’s coat until her knuckles turned white. Her mind raced, unable to process the words. Her father—the late titan of a construction empire—had been a ghost in their home ever since Victoria took the reins. His name was spoken only in hushed, forbidden whispers.
“My father died seven years ago,” she said finally, her voice a fragile tightrope between disbelief and rising terror.
“A heart attack, if the official corner’s report is to be believed,” Ethan countered, a cold, almost metallic ring to his tone.
He didn’t open the envelope yet. Instead, he watched intently as the pursuing SUV slowed down through the rear window, suddenly losing its aggressive confidence as they entered the heavily guarded, gated perimeter of the warehouse district.
“Victoria didn’t want to marry you off to Vance out of desperation,” Ethan continued, his eyes remaining fixed on the perimeter. “She needed you in Vance’s custody because he is the only magistrate corrupt enough to legally authorize the liquidation of the trust assets—assets that, according to your father’s true will, belong exclusively to you.”
Aria felt the floor drop out from beneath her. “I never signed anything. I don’t even know what assets you’re talking about.” Ethan finally turned his head to look at her. In the dim, amber glow of the dashboard lights, his eyes appeared darker, deeper, and infinitely more dangerous than the storm outside.
“Exactly. And that is the only reason you are still breathing, Aria.”
He brought the envelope closer to her face, letting her see the wax seal on the back. It was a crest she would recognize out of a thousand. It was her father’s personal signet.
“She couldn’t kill you until your signature was on the dotted line. But tonight, she decided it would be easier to outsource your compliance—to hand your leash over to a man who would use whatever brutality necessary to make you sign.”
Behind them, the SUV slammed on its brakes, its tires whining against the wet asphalt.
Sensing the perimeter guards and realizing who owned the property, the vehicle pulled a sharp U-turn and vanished back into the curtain of rain. They knew Ethan Cross was not a man anyone crossed and lived to tell about it.
The tears Aria had held back for miles finally broke, scalding her cheeks. She wasn’t safe. She had merely stumbled from a crude trap into the center of a much larger, deadlier conspiracy.
Ethan slid the envelope into her lap. “Open it.”
With trembling fingers, she broke the wax seal. Inside was a thick leather dossier filled with financial transfers, medical logs, and corporate restructurings—documents that completely shattered everything she believed about the night her father died.
But it was the very last page that made her breath stop entirely. It was an authorization of asset transfer. And the signature at the bottom approving the terms didn’t belong to Mr. Vance.
It belonged to Victoria.
Aria looked up at Ethan, her wide eyes reflecting the sudden, terrifying realization that this night was not the end of her escape, but the absolute beginning of a war.
“Why are you helping me?” she whispered, gripping the papers so hard the edges began to tear. “What do you want?”
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Ethan looked back out the windshield, his profile looking as though it were carved from flawless, unyielding stone.
“Because your stepmother made a fatal miscalculation, Aria.” He paused, a dark, predatory promise catching the light in his eyes. “She tried to sell something that already belongs to me.”
