The storm came without warning.
Not outside—but inside Julian's world. The shift began with a single name sliding across his desk on a printed report.
Victor Lane.
Aria's breath caught the second she saw it—just a faint header on a financial ledger she wasn't supposed to see. But it was there. Like poison on paper.
Victor Lane wasn't just a name. He was a ghost from her past. A silent partner in her family's fall, and someone who should've stayed buried in court records and late-night news scandals.
She barely heard Julian speaking to his assistant across the room. Her eyes locked on the page. That name lit up all her instincts, the way a flame exposes rot beneath glass.
"Where did this come from?" she asked, interrupting.
Julian's attention snapped to her instantly. "What did you say?"
"This file." She held it up. "You have Victor Lane's holdings on here. Are you working with him?"
A dangerous pause.
"No," Julian said. "I'm acquiring him."
Aria stood slowly. "Are you out of your mind? He's not someone you acquire. He's someone you stay the hell away from."
Julian walked toward her, each step measured. Controlled.
"Is that fear in your voice?"
"Yes," she snapped. "And maybe you should listen to it for once."
He stopped just in front of her, his expression unreadable. "Did you have dealings with him?"
Her silence answered for her.
Julian's voice dropped. "What did he do?"
"Nothing," she lied.
But he saw through it. Like he always did.
His jaw ticked. "You're a terrible liar."
"And you're a terrible protector," she hissed. "You think because you put me in a cage, you've made me safe? You're pulling the same strings that nearly killed my family, Julian."
"I'm not your family," he said flatly.
"No," she whispered. "You're worse. Because you pretend your blade is mercy."
His hand shot out—he caught her chin, held her in place. But it wasn't violent.
It was possessive.
"This man," he said, each word clipped. "Did he hurt you?"
She didn't answer.
But something in her eyes told him enough.
His grip tightened. Not on her skin, but around his own fury.
"Aria," he said, so softly it terrified her, "if he touched you, I'll destroy every asset with his name on it."
Her breath trembled. "And what will you leave me with? Ashes? More control? Another gilded leash?"
Julian's gaze lowered to her mouth.
Then he did something she didn't expect.
He let her go.
"You're excused for the day," he said.
"Just like that?"
"Before I say something you'll make me regret."
—
Aria left the office, but she didn't return to the penthouse.
She slipped out of the car mid-route when Julian's driver pulled over at a red light. One breathless dash through the city later, she found herself at a corner café she hadn't visited in years.
Not since before everything crumbled.
It was almost untouched. The same yellow brick walls, chipped tables, and mismatched chairs. A memory still frozen in time.
She ordered tea.
No phone. No guards. No Julian.
For twenty-seven precious minutes, she wasn't a prisoner.
She was just a girl trying to remember who the hell she was before everything got so dark.
But even that illusion shattered the moment she heard footsteps behind her.
Familiar ones.
She didn't turn.
"You couldn't wait one full week to run?" Julian's voice was quiet. Controlled. But beneath it, she could hear the edge—like a storm pressing against the glass.
"I didn't run," she said calmly. "I walked. In daylight. With shoes on."
He moved around the table, settling into the seat across from her. Uninvited.
The waitress brought her tea. Aria didn't touch it.
Julian didn't look at the cup. His eyes were only on her.
"What did Victor Lane do to you?"
She took a long moment before answering.
"He tried to buy me."
Julian didn't blink.
"He offered my father an out. Said he'd erase a quarter of our debt if I went to dinner with him. I was seventeen."
A muscle in Julian's jaw twitched. His hands folded tightly on the table.
"What happened?"
"Nothing," she said, voice flat. "Because I never went. But my father considered it. For hours."
Julian's rage was too quiet. The kind that burned cold.
"And now you're dealing with him," she added, almost bitterly. "You think you're different, but you're all just men playing gods."
Julian leaned forward, elbows on the table. "You think I would ever let another man touch you?"
"You already let me fall once," she snapped. "Why should I believe it'd be different this time?"
The silence between them was louder than the city outside.
Then Julian stood.
"Let's go."
"I'm not ready."
"You're always ready."
He held out his hand.
She didn't want to take it.
But she did.
—
That night, the leash tightened.
Julian had her sign new clauses in the contract. Curfews. Daily check-ins. Full access to her devices.
"If you run again," he said, eyes on hers, "I will come for you."
Aria's breath hitched. "You already did."
He stepped closer, pinning her to the wall with nothing but presence.
"You want to believe you have power here?" His voice was low. "That all this is still your story? Then prove it. Stop flinching. Stop running. Use your goddamn fire, Aria."
Her mouth parted, heart racing. "What do you want from me?"
He leaned in, mouth brushing her ear.
"Everything."
—
They didn't touch that night.
Not physically.
But the tension between them was unbearable.
Julian worked late, silent and unreadable behind his office door. Aria lay awake again, the ceiling a black void above her, the weight of his command pressing against her skin.
She wanted to hate him.
But hate wasn't sharp enough.
It didn't explain why she still burned when he looked at her. Why part of her still trusted him with truths she couldn't even say aloud.
Why she wondered what he looked like when he slept.
She cursed herself for it.
And didn't sleep.
—
Morning came brutal and fast.
Julian was waiting in the gym again. Today he didn't speak when she arrived. Just handed her gloves and started sparring.
The moment his fist swept toward her shoulder, Aria ducked.
Blocked.
Then struck.
Her palm hit his ribs, hard.
He stepped back, impressed.
"Good."
"You taught me."
"You remembered."
"I remember everything," she said bitterly.
That was the problem.
—
Later that day, they stood on opposite ends of his office while the sun bled against the horizon.
Julian turned from the window. "Victor's being removed from the merger. Quietly."
Aria blinked. "Why?"
"I told you. I don't share what's mine."
He walked past her, stopping just long enough to graze her wrist.
"But I'll never chain you to me," he added. "You're doing that yourself."
She turned, stunned.
But Julian was already gone.
—
That night, she found a file on her pillow.
Inside: surveillance photos. Old phone records. Documents she never knew existed.
It was her father's secret ledger.
And at the top of the list of names?
Julian Devereux.