Chapter 3 — Shadows of the Past
The city gleamed beneath the night sky, a million lights flickering like restless stars. From her penthouse balcony, Ariana watched them in silence, her reflection faint in the glass. The night wind tugged at her silk robe, carrying the scent of rain and smoke from the streets below.
It was almost poetic, she thought.
A city that never slept—just like her.
Her phone buzzed again. She didn't look at it this time. She already knew who it would be. Damien Cole's company had too many eyes, too many ways to dig. But she had prepared for this long before stepping into his office.
She poured herself a glass of wine, fingers steady, mind razor-sharp.
Every move she made had been planned—down to the smallest detail.
---
The next morning, Cole Enterprises was alive with its usual hum of energy. Men in suits, women in heels, the faint echo of phones and printers blending into a rhythm of precision. But the atmosphere shifted when Ariana walked in again, unannounced.
Heads turned. Whispers followed her.
She had that effect now.
The receptionist scrambled to her feet. "Miss Blaze! Mr. Cole didn't—"
"He'll see me," Ariana said calmly. "Tell him it's urgent."
There was no room for argument in her tone. Within seconds, she was in the elevator again, rising toward the top floor. Her reflection stared back at her—cool, confident, unreadable.
But beneath that calm was something else—anticipation.
Today would not be a business meeting. It would be a test.
---
The doors opened. Damien's assistant looked startled but didn't dare stop her. "Mr. Cole's in a meeting—"
"Then I'll join," she said, already moving.
The double doors swung open to reveal Damien standing at the conference table with several executives. Charts and contracts lay spread out before them. He turned sharply when she entered, that same icy composure snapping into place.
"Ariana." His voice was low, even. "You weren't invited."
"Consider this a courtesy visit," she replied. "I have something you'll want to see."
The room went still. The executives exchanged uneasy glances before Damien dismissed them with a flick of his hand. "Leave us."
When the last door shut, the silence deepened. Ariana placed a file on the table and slid it toward him. "Your company's overseas partner in Zurich—Westmont Holdings. They've been falsifying reports for months."
He frowned, opening the file. Inside were detailed records—transactions, offshore accounts, evidence too precise to deny.
"How did you get this?" he demanded.
She met his eyes, unflinching. "You're not the only one who knows how to dig."
He studied her face for a long moment, the tension between them thick as smoke. Finally, he closed the file. "Why bring this to me? You could've gone public. Destroyed me."
"Because I'm not done yet," she said softly. "And because I want you to owe me."
Something flickered in his gaze—anger, confusion, something darker. "What game are you playing, Ariana?"
The sound of her name on his tongue made her chest tighten for a fraction of a second. But she didn't let it show.
"The kind that doesn't end with checkmate," she murmured. "Not yet."
---
When she left the office, Selena was waiting again, pretending to check her tablet. Her smile was tight. "You're bold, walking in like that."
Ariana's own smile was cool. "You taught me well."
Selena's fingers trembled around her tablet. "What do you want, Ariana? Why now?"
Ariana leaned closer, her whisper sharp as a blade. "You already know. I just came to collect what's mine."
Then she walked away, her perfume lingering like a warning.
Selena stood frozen for a long moment before pulling out her phone. "Damien," she whispered. "It's her. It really is her."
---
Later that night, rain began to fall—soft at first, then fierce, pounding against glass and asphalt. Ariana sat on the edge of her bed, the city lights blurring through the storm. She couldn't sleep. Not yet.
Her mind was a carousel of faces, voices, and memories that refused to fade.
Damien's cold eyes.
Selena's laughter.
The sound of betrayal echoing in the dark.
She reached into the drawer and pulled out a silver locket. Inside was a photo—her, Damien, and a baby. A memory she had buried but never forgotten. Her hand trembled as she traced the image.
Her son.
The one she had lost when they framed her, when they tore her life apart.
When Damien believed their lies instead of her.
She closed the locket slowly. The ache in her chest was no longer grief—it was fire.
They thought they'd taken everything from her. They thought death had ended her story. But death had only rewritten her beginning.
Now, she was stronger. Smarter. Dangerous.
---
Days passed. Rumors spread quietly through the company.
The mysterious woman who had walked into Damien Cole's world twice in a week.
The deal that hadn't been announced yet.
The tension between them that every employee could feel but no one dared mention.
At night, Ariana's firm continued to expand under her silent leadership. Every file, every deal she made was a step closer to the truth.
She had two goals:
Expose the people who had betrayed her.
And make Damien remember what he had destroyed.
---
One evening, a message arrived. No name, just coordinates and a time.
Midnight. Dock 14. Come alone.
A trap, perhaps. But traps only worked on the unprepared.
Ariana dressed in black, her hair tied back, eyes sharp with purpose. The rain had stopped, leaving the night heavy with mist and silence.
When she reached the docks, the air smelled of salt and metal. Shadows moved between the containers. She walked carefully, heels silent against the wet ground.
Then she saw him—a tall figure standing beneath a flickering light.
Damien.
"What are you doing here?" she demanded.
"I should ask you the same," he said. "I was told you wanted to meet."
"By whom?"
"Selena," he said after a pause.
Ariana's jaw tightened. "Of course."
Before either could speak again, a sharp sound split the air—the click of a gun.
"Don't move," a voice hissed from the darkness.
Ariana froze. Three men stepped out of the shadows, armed, faces hidden. One of them grabbed her arm roughly. "You shouldn't have come back, lady. Some people don't like ghosts."
Damien's eyes darkened. "Let her go."
The man laughed. "Or what, boss? You'll buy us off?"
Damien moved before he finished the sentence—swift, precise, brutal. In seconds, two men were on the ground. The third lunged at Ariana, but she drove her elbow into his ribs and twisted free. The gun clattered to the ground. She kicked it away, breath sharp, body steady.
When the last man fled, silence fell again, broken only by the sound of rain returning.
They stood there for a moment, facing each other beneath the storm.
"You fight like someone who's been through hell," Damien said quietly.
She met his gaze. "I have."
Lightning flashed between them, reflecting in their eyes—his confusion, her resolve. He stepped closer, voice low. "Who are you really, Ariana?"
Her answer was almost a whisper. "So
meone you once killed."
Then she walked past him, her heels echoing against the wet pavement, each step a promise of the reckoning yet to come.
---
End of Chapter 3