Victor Hale lounged in the leather chair of his penthouse suite, a glass of amber whiskey swirling in his hand. The city stretched below, lights glittering like prey caught in a net.
He didn't drink for pleasure — not anymore. The burn was simply a reminder of control, of patience. Tonight, patience was everything.
"Any word?" he asked, not bothering to glance at the man standing stiffly by the window.
His lieutenant shifted uncomfortably. "She knows."
Victor's lips curved into a smile. "Aria." He said her name as if it were a rare wine he planned to savor. "And how did she take it?"
"Shaken. Angry. Confused."
Victor leaned back, satisfied. He could picture it already: the folder falling open, the truth spilling out, the look on her face when she realized the man she thought she could trust had been feeding her lies.
"Good," Victor murmured. "A crack in trust is better than a bullet. Once the foundation shifts, the whole house comes down."
His lieutenant hesitated. "You think she'll leave him?"
Victor's laugh was low, dangerous. "Leave? Not yet. She's too stubborn, too proud. But doubt…" He tapped his temple with a finger. "Doubt grows like mold. And when it does, she'll start looking for answers elsewhere. Guess who will be there to give them to her?"
The man said nothing, wisely keeping his eyes on the skyline.
Victor finished his drink, the ice clinking against crystal. "Darius never understood me. He thinks strength is in fists, in fire, in fear. But true power? It's in patience. In knowing when to push and when to let the other man destroy himself."
He rose, adjusting the cuffs of his black silk shirt. "She's the key. Not because she's weak — but because she's strong enough to stand against him. That strength will turn inward, against him, once she realizes what he's kept from her."
Victor moved to the window, watching the night. "It won't be long now. When she finally breaks, she won't fall into silence." His smile returned, sharp as glass. "She'll fall into me."