The silence in the study was suffocating.
Aria sat on the edge of the leather armchair, hands twisted in her lap, while Damien leaned against the desk, arms crossed. His face was carved from stone, his dark eyes fixed on her with unrelenting focus. Between them, Charles Lancaster stood like a shadow from another life, hands clasped behind his back, posture regal even in shame.
"I'll say this once," Damien said, his voice low, controlled. "If this conversation is going to happen, it will be honest. No more half-truths. No more lies."
Aria's chest tightened. She swallowed hard, meeting his gaze. "I understand."
Charles cleared his throat, as though ready to take command of the room. But Damien's eyes narrowed, warning him without words. This wasn't his stage. It was Aria's.
She drew a shaky breath. For years, she had built walls around her past. To tear them down now felt like walking barefoot over glass. But Damien deserved the truth. He had earned it a hundred times over.
"My name," she began softly, "isn't Aria Evans. It never was."
Damien didn't flinch, but his jaw tightened.
"I was born Aria Lancaster. Daughter of Charles Lancaster, of the Lancaster family." She flicked a glance at her father, who stood stiff, as though the words themselves pricked like thorns. "We were… old money. A family with a reputation for wealth, power, and influence. On the outside, it looked perfect. But inside…" Her voice trembled. "Inside, it was crumbling."
Damien's eyes stayed locked on hers, silently urging her on.
"My father," she continued, "was respected in business circles. But he gambled — not just at casinos, but with investments, partnerships, favors. When the economy shifted, everything collapsed. The Lancasters went from powerful to pariahs almost overnight. Investors pulled out. Lawsuits mounted. And the press…" Her lips pressed together. "The press feasted on our downfall. It was a scandal — headlines every day. Lancaster Empire Crumbles. Lancaster Heiress Missing. They tore us apart in public, while behind closed doors—"
Her voice cracked.
Damien stepped forward slightly, as if to steady her, but he stopped himself. This was her truth to finish.
"Behind closed doors," Aria whispered, "my family was already falling apart. My father's rage, my mother's silence, the constant pressure to keep up appearances… I couldn't breathe. And then there was Victor Hayes."
Damien's head snapped at the name.
"He was one of Father's business associates. Younger, ambitious. He used to come to dinners, galas. At first, he was just another face in the crowd. But when the scandal broke, he… he saw opportunity. He knew too much about what was happening. And he started making comments, little threats, ways he could 'help' if I—" Her throat closed. She forced herself to keep going. "If I entertained him."
Damien's hands curled into fists at his sides.
"I refused. I thought he'd stop. But he didn't. The night I left home, he cornered me at a charity ball. He told me he'd ruin me completely, expose every dirty secret, unless I—" She shut her eyes, trembling. "That was the night I ran. I couldn't stay. Not with the Lancasters collapsing, not with Hayes circling, not with Father's expectations crushing me. I took nothing but a suitcase and disappeared. I changed my name to Evans and swore I would never go back."
Silence fell like a guillotine blade.
Damien's breathing was heavy, his expression unreadable. Charles shifted, as though the weight of his daughter's words physically pressed on him.
"I built a new life," Aria whispered. "A quiet one. Until… until that night with you, Damien. One night. And then Noah." Her eyes shone with tears. "When I married you, I told myself I could keep the past buried. That I didn't need to burden you with it. But Hayes—he won't let it stay buried. And now it's out."
Her voice broke. "I'm so sorry."
The apology hung between them, fragile and raw.
Damien didn't speak. He moved, slow deliberate steps, until he stood in front of her. Aria braced for anger, for rejection. Instead, he crouched, his hands settling gently on her knees. His touch was steady, grounding.
"Aria," he said, his voice low but fierce, "you should have told me sooner. I won't pretend I'm not hurt that you didn't. But don't you dare apologize for surviving."
Her tears spilled freely. "You don't hate me?"
His jaw flexed. "I hate that you thought you couldn't trust me. That you carried this alone. But you — you, Aria — I could never hate."
She choked on a sob, reaching for him. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her against his chest. For the first time in years, she felt the crushing weight of her secrets lift, leaving behind only exhaustion and relief.
Charles cleared his throat softly, reminding them he was still there. "She left because of me," he admitted, voice hoarse. "I pushed her too hard. I thought duty came before happiness. And I failed to protect her from Hayes. That's on me."
Damien turned his head, his eyes sharp. "Then you'll help us stop him."
Charles blinked. "Stop him?"
"Yes." Damien's arms tightened protectively around Aria. "Because Hayes isn't done. Exposing her name isn't enough. Men like him never settle. He'll want more. Influence. Power. Money. And I'll be damned if I let him use my wife as leverage."
Aria pulled back slightly to look at Damien. His eyes were blazing now, not with anger at her, but with determination. "What are you saying?" she whispered.
"I'm saying," Damien growled, "Hayes made this personal. And I don't play nice when someone threatens what's mine."
Charles hesitated. "He's dangerous, Damien. You don't know him like I do."
"Then enlighten me," Damien shot back. "Because if he thinks he can drag Aria through the mud and walk away unscathed, he's about to learn just how wrong he is."
Aria's breath caught. Damien's protective ferocity was both terrifying and beautiful. For the first time, she felt like they weren't just reacting to Hayes — they were preparing to fight back.
But as the storm outside raged louder, a shiver ran down her spine. Because she knew Victor Hayes. And he would not go quietly.