Aria didn't sleep after Talon's smile.
It haunted her more than any threat ever could. That slight curve of his mouth wasn't amusement—it was a warning. He knew. Or at least, he suspected. And that meant she had to move fast.
She rose before dawn and dressed in silence, her mind spinning. Every moment inside Luciano's estate now felt like a trap. She wasn't just mourning a brother anymore—she was walking on a floor lined with landmines.
She needed proof. Answers. A plan.
The security room was her first stop.
Vincent, the quiet guard, looked up in alarm as she entered. "Ma'am, I—this area's restricted."
Aria didn't pause. "Then restrict it for someone else."
He hesitated. "Luciano won't—"
She slammed her hand on the desk. "Luciano married me. That makes me his partner. Open the footage."
Vincent blinked, then sighed. "Fine."
He tapped at the keyboard, bringing up the security feeds. Dozens of grainy black-and-white screens lit up: hallways, sitting rooms, gardens. Aria leaned in, scanning them quickly.
"I need playback from three nights ago," she said. "Library. Midnight."
Vincent keyed it in.
The footage rewound—there she was, sitting alone in the library, flipping through an old ledger her brother once kept. Then: movement. A figure passed by the doorway. Talon.
She frowned.
"Pause," she said. "Go back. Slow it down."
He did.
Just before Talon appeared, another figure was already there—half hidden in the corner of the hallway. A dark silhouette, unmoving, face obscured.
"Zoom in."
Vincent hesitated, then followed her command.
The face never fully came into view. But it was a man. Hoodie. Lean build. Unfamiliar.
Aria felt her stomach twist.
"Who is that?" she asked.
"I—I don't know," Vincent stammered.
"Don't lie to me."
He looked at her, pale. "The high-clearance feeds… they're not in my access level. Some of them get scrubbed manually."
"By who?"
"Usually Talon. Or Matteo."
Her jaw tightened. "So there are private recordings?"
"Yes, ma'am. Special channels."
"And you've seen this man before?"
"…Only once. About a week ago."
Aria's pulse raced.
Somebody had been tracking her movements without Luciano's knowledge. Or worse—with it.
⸻
That afternoon, Aria did what she never thought she'd do.
She searched her bedroom.
Not for jewelry. Not for letters.
For cameras.
It took fifteen minutes before she found one—buried in the upper panel of her wardrobe, facing the bed. Almost invisible. Silent. Cold.
Her fingers trembled as she pulled it out.
Watching her. Every night. Every move.
She crushed it under her heel.
⸻
Luciano returned home late. She greeted him with a kiss.
She said nothing about what she'd found.
Instead, she asked him a single question as he poured a drink.
"Do you trust Talon?"
He looked up, puzzled. "With my life."
Her lips curved. "You shouldn't."
That was all she said.
⸻
That night, a note was slid under her door. No envelope. No name.
Just four words in red ink:
"You're not safe here."
She stared at it long after the hallway emptied. Her hand gripped the letter so tightly it wrinkled. Her heart thundered like a war drum.
⸻
In the morning, she went to find Matteo—the tech guy who managed surveillance.
He was in the garage, working beneath one of Luciano's black sedans.
"You and I need to talk," she said.
He glanced up, wiping grease from his fingers. "What did I do?"
"You have access to the restricted feeds, right?"
His expression shifted. "Why?"
"Because someone is watching me. Not just security. Spying. I found a camera in my room."
Matteo's face darkened. "That's not standard protocol."
"Then help me. I need access. I need to know what's being hidden from me."
He hesitated. "Luciano—"
"Luciano won't hear a word from me until I have answers."
There was a pause.
Then he nodded slowly. "Midnight. Server room. Come alone."
⸻
That night, at 11:55 p.m., Aria slipped down the narrow stone corridor toward the basement. The estate's ancient underbelly was cold, its walls lined with quiet hums from the servers. The only light came from blinking red nodes.
She pushed open the door.
Matteo wasn't there.
Only the glow of the monitor screens.
She stepped closer, confusion turning into unease.
Then her breath caught.
On the screen: a live feed.
Her bedroom.
A man stood beside the bed.
Not Talon.
Not Luciano.
The same hooded man she'd seen before.
He wasn't stealing. He wasn't speaking.
He was just… watching.
Waiting.
⸻
As Aria stared at the screen, her pulse climbing, the door behind her creaked softly.
She turned—
But no one was there.