The silence after chaos was the loudest of all.
For hours, the Blackwood estate remained a hive of activity—police lights flashing across the manicured lawns, reporters clamoring at the gates, security sweeping every corridor. But inside, behind the heavy oak doors, the family's world had shrunk to one room.
Aria sat on the edge of Noah's bed, stroking his hair as he slept at last, his tiny fist still curled around his dinosaur. The sight of him safe, his chest rising and falling with each soft breath, was the only tether keeping her together.
Every so often, her gaze drifted to the door, where muffled voices rose and fell. Damien hadn't left since the officers arrived. He was in the study, overseeing every detail of Hayes's arrest, refusing to relinquish control.
Aria wanted to go to him, to stand by his side as she always had these past weeks, but she couldn't bring herself to leave Noah—not after nearly losing him.
Her son's safety was all that mattered. And yet, deep inside, fear coiled still. Hayes's words echoed in her mind: The world loves a scandal. And she is the biggest one of all.
Downstairs, Damien's patience thinned with every passing second.
Hayes sat slumped in a chair, his lip split, his wrists bound. He looked less like the predator who had strutted into Damien's home hours ago and more like a cornered rat. Still, his eyes gleamed with a dangerous satisfaction.
"You think this is over because you've got me cuffed?" Hayes rasped. "Blackwood, you're a fool. The world doesn't care if I rot. But your precious wife—ah, she's a story. Lancaster, vanished heiress, secret marriage—front-page gold. You can't silence that."
Damien's jaw tightened. "You'll never speak her name again."
Hayes smirked. "I don't have to. The press will do it for me."
Marcus stepped forward, legal pad in hand. "We've got him on trespassing, assault, conspiracy—enough to bury him legally for years."
"Not enough," Damien growled. His gaze never left Hayes. "I want him erased. Every channel he's used, every ally he's bought—I want them broken. One by one."
Elise shifted uneasily. "That'll take time. And until then, the press—"
"I'll handle the press," Damien cut in. His voice was steel, unyielding.
Hayes chuckled, a sound that grated against the raw edges of the night. "You'll fight and fight, Blackwood. But she'll still be a Lancaster. You can't scrub that away."
Damien leaned down until his face was inches from Hayes's. His voice dropped to a low, lethal whisper. "No. But I can make sure no one cares. Because when this is done, the world won't see a Lancaster scandal. They'll see a Blackwood legacy. And you'll be nothing but a footnote."
For the first time, Hayes's grin faltered.
By dawn, the estate was quiet again. Hayes had been hauled away in the back of a police cruiser, still laughing hollowly, though his voice had grown hoarse.
Damien climbed the stairs slowly, fatigue pressing heavy on his shoulders. Yet when he opened Noah's door and found Aria still sitting at his side, his heart clenched with something stronger than exhaustion.
She looked up, her eyes swollen from holding back tears. "Is it over?"
"Not yet," Damien admitted, stepping closer. "But he's in custody. He won't touch us again."
Aria rose, careful not to wake Noah. Her hands twisted in front of her. "Damien… what if he was right? What if the world digs and digs until all they see is the scandal?"
"Then let them dig," Damien said, his voice hard but steady. He reached for her hand, threading his fingers through hers. "Aria, I don't care if the whole damn world knows your name. Lancaster, Williams, Blackwood—it doesn't matter. You are mine. And no scandal changes that."
Her throat tightened. She pressed her forehead to his chest, her whisper muffled. "I'm so tired of running."
He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. "Then stop. You don't have to anymore."
For the first time in years, Aria allowed herself to believe him.
But outside their fragile cocoon, the storm was already building.
By noon, every major news outlet carried the story: Victor Hayes Arrested After Attempted Break-In at Blackwood Estate. But the headlines were rarely so simple. Subheads screamed of the "mystery wife" at the center of the chaos, some outlets dredging up blurred photographs of Aria from charity galas years ago. Others speculated wildly about her disappearance from high society and sudden reemergence as Damien Blackwood's bride.
The Lancaster name was on every tongue.
Aria stood in the breakfast room, staring at the television mounted on the wall. Her own face flashed across the screen—an old photograph she hadn't seen in years, her expression younger, brighter, untouched by the weight of the life she'd lived since.
"…daughter of Victor Lancaster, once a fixture of elite social circles, vanished six years ago amid rumors of family scandal. Now she resurfaces, revealed as the secret wife of billionaire Damien Blackwood…"
Aria's hands shook around her coffee cup.
Damien entered, catching the footage. His jaw set instantly. He snatched the remote and shut off the screen with a sharp click.
"Don't watch that garbage," he ordered.
"They're not wrong," Aria whispered, her voice breaking. "That was me. That is me."
Damien set the remote down with deliberate care, then came to her side. He cupped her face, forcing her to look at him. "No. That was a girl forced into a world of masks and lies. You left it behind. You built a life. And now you're here, with me, with Noah. That's who you are. That's who the world will see—because I won't let them paint you any other way."
Her eyes shimmered. "How can you be so sure?"
"Because I've fought bigger battles than the press," Damien said, his voice edged with iron. "And because I believe in you more than they believe in their own lies."
Aria's tears spilled over. She collapsed into his arms, clinging to him as though he were the only anchor keeping her from drifting away. And perhaps, she thought, he was.
Later that day, Marcus returned with updates. "Hayes is already spinning. He's calling himself the victim of a setup—that Blackwood Enterprises fabricated evidence to destroy him. Some outlets are biting. But…" He glanced at Damien. "The documents Ethan provided are solid. If we release them strategically, it won't just ruin Hayes. It'll redirect the narrative completely."
Damien leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. "Do it. Leak it to the outlets least friendly to him. Let the sharks feed."
Marcus hesitated. "And Aria?"
Damien's gaze flicked to her, where she sat quietly at the far end of the table. His voice softened slightly. "She'll weather it. Because I'll be standing beside her when she does."
Aria's chest tightened. He said it so simply, so matter-of-fact, as if there was no question. For years she had carried her identity like a burden, a chain she could never escape. And yet here was Damien, treating it as nothing more than a shadow.
Maybe he was right. Maybe shadows only had power if she kept running from them.
That night, as they prepared for bed, Aria lingered by the window. The city skyline glittered beyond, alive with lights and whispers. Somewhere out there, people were talking about her—about the Lancaster girl who had vanished, about the woman she had become.
She turned when she felt Damien's arms slip around her waist from behind. He rested his chin on her shoulder, his voice low. "What are you thinking?"
She exhaled slowly. "That I can't hide anymore. Not from them. Not from myself."
Damien pressed a kiss to her temple. "Then don't. Stand tall, Aria. Show them who you are. Show them they can't touch you."
Her eyes closed, her body trembling against his. "With you beside me… maybe I can."
He tightened his hold. "Always."
The following morning, the front page of the city's most respected paper bore a new headline: "Hayes's Web of Corruption Unraveled."
Documents were splashed across the pages, damning evidence tying Hayes to bribes, fraud, and manipulation. His allies scattered, his investors abandoned him, and by afternoon, he was officially charged with multiple counts.
The scandal had shifted.
But so had the spotlight.
For the first time in years, Aria Lancaster's name was not whispered in drawing rooms but broadcast across every channel.
The world was watching.
And she knew—sooner rather than later—she would have to speak.