The night stretched like a taut wire.
Aria couldn't sleep. The envelope lay on her nightstand, its presence louder than thunder. Every time she closed her eyes, she dreamed of fire, shadows, and Darius's voice calling her name from somewhere she could never reach.
By dawn, her decision was made.
She dressed quietly and slipped into the hall, clutching the envelope against her side. The mansion still slept — guards trading shifts downstairs, the faint hum of the city beyond the gates. She padded down the back staircase, heart hammering, every step an echo of guilt.
She found herself in the study. It was one of the few rooms Darius kept unlocked, though it reeked of his presence: the heavy oak desk, the scent of expensive cigars, the wall of books with titles in languages she couldn't read.
Her fingers tore at the seal before her courage could falter. The flap split. She slid the papers free.
At first, her eyes didn't make sense of the words. Numbers. Bank accounts. Offshore holdings. And then — photographs.
She gripped the edges, staring. It was Darius. Younger, bruised, bloodied, surrounded by men who looked more like wolves than soldiers. He wasn't the polished, commanding figure she knew now. He looked… feral. Cornered. Dangerous.
Another sheet. A birth certificate. Her breath hitched. The name on it wasn't Darius King. It was something else entirely.
Her knees weakened. She didn't hear the door open until it slammed.
"Aria."
His voice cracked through the silence like a whip. She jerked around, papers clutched in her trembling hands. Darius stood in the doorway, unshaven, eyes burning with something between fury and betrayal.
Her mouth went dry. "You lied to me."
He took a step closer, every inch of him a storm contained in flesh. "I told you not to let Victor poison you."
"This isn't Victor," she snapped, shoving the papers toward him. "This is you. Who the hell are you, Darius?"
The air between them snapped, charged, too heavy to breathe. For the first time, she saw him hesitate — not the lion, not the untouchable king, but a man cornered by his own past.
The silence that followed was unbearable.
When he finally spoke, his voice was low. Dangerous. Almost broken.
"The man you think you love… doesn't exist."