The city skyline glittered like a thousand broken promises.
Aria Vale stood by the glass window of her penthouse suite, the night lights of Aveline City reflecting in her eyes — sharp, unyielding, and just a little sad. It had been seven years since she last saw this place. Seven years since Elara Wynn was buried beneath the ashes of betrayal and fire.
Now, Aria Vale had risen in her place — colder, wiser, untouchable.
Her reflection stared back at her: smooth hair pulled into a sleek chignon, lips painted the color of secrets, a designer gown hugging her frame like armor. No one looking at her tonight would guess that she was once the naive woman who believed love could survive anything.
Least of all, him.
A soft knock interrupted her thoughts. "Miss Vale, your car is ready," her assistant, Mia, announced.
Aria turned, her voice smooth and low. "Let's go."
Tonight was the launch of Kane Corporation's new luxury fashion line — the most anticipated event of the year. The partnership was meant to merge power with creativity. For the public, it was business. For Aria, it was war.
She slipped into the back seat of the car, her gaze fixed on the city passing by. The familiar streets whispered memories she didn't want to remember — laughter under moonlight, whispered promises, a man's voice calling her name like it was sacred.
"Lucien…"
Her heart tightened for half a second before she forced herself to breathe. That woman — Elara Wynn — is gone.
The car stopped before the grand venue. Cameras flashed the moment she stepped out, her presence commanding instant attention. Whispers rippled through the crowd.
"That's Aria Vale, the designer from Milan."
"She's stunning… I heard she never does public events."
"She looks like someone I've seen before…"
Inside, the ballroom shimmered with gold and crystal. Business elites mingled under chandeliers, and in the center of it all stood him — Lucien Kane.
Tall. Composed. Devastating in a black suit that mirrored his aura. His gaze swept across the room like a tide claiming territory — until it stopped on her.
For a fraction of a moment, his world froze.
The glass of wine in his hand stilled. His heart, the one that had been cold and empty for years, skipped a beat it had long forgotten.
That face…
Those eyes…
No. It couldn't be.
Elara was dead.
And yet — as Aria walked toward him, every step measured and graceful — he felt the air leave his lungs. The scent of white jasmine brushed past him, cruelly familiar.
"Mr. Kane," she greeted, offering a polite smile. "I'm honored to collaborate with you."
Lucien's voice came out rougher than he intended. "Have we met before?"
Her lips curved, but her eyes didn't soften. "I don't believe so."
The lie slid easily off her tongue, practiced to perfection.
But as she turned away, her heart whispered a truth only she could hear.
You once promised to find me in every lifetime, Lucien Kane. Let's see if you still can.