Aria's POV
The gun was gone from my head, but I could still feel where it pressed against my skull.
That was six hours ago. Six hours since Marcus Wolfe smiled at me like a predator and said, "My son chose Tokyo. Interesting." Six hours since he lowered the gun and walked out, leaving me tied to that chair with blood drying on my temple.
Vincent had found me. Cut me loose. Checked my injury.
But Damien never came back.
He chose Tokyo. He chose his father. He chose business over my life.
Now I sat in the prison he called a penthouse, waiting for nothing.
"Mrs. Wolfe?" The housekeeper—Maria—stood in the doorway. She never looked me in the eye. "Do you need anything?"
"My husband." The words tasted bitter. "Do you have one of those lying around?"
She flinched and disappeared.
They all treated me like that. Like I was already a ghost. Something temporary that would vanish soon, so why bother learning my name?
My phone rang. Jason's number.
I grabbed it desperately. "Are you okay? Did they hurt you?"
"Hurt me? Aria, what are you talking about?" My little brother sounded confused. "I'm fine. Still at college. Why?"
My blood went cold. "You're... you're at school?"
"Yeah. Where else would I be? Are you okay? You sound weird."
The video. The knife at his throat. The threats.
All fake.
Jessica had never kidnapped Jason. It was all a lie to control me. To make me desperate enough to comply.
"I'm fine," I lied, my voice breaking. "Just miss you. Call me later?"
After he hung up, I wanted to scream. But screaming in this empty penthouse felt pointless.
Three weeks passed like a nightmare in slow motion.
Damien called once. Not to check on me. Not to apologize for leaving me to die.
To tell me he'd be in Tokyo longer than expected.
"How long?" I'd asked.
"A month. Maybe more."
"So I just... wait here?"
"Yes." His voice was ice. "Don't leave the penthouse. It's not safe."
"Safe? Your father held a gun to my head!"
"Which is why you need to stay inside until I handle things." A pause. "Vincent will make sure you have everything you need."
Everything except the one thing I needed. Freedom. Or at least acknowledgment that I existed.
"Damien—"
He'd already hung up.
That was two weeks ago.
Now I wandered these empty rooms like a prisoner. The penthouse was huge but felt smaller every day. The walls were closing in.
Maria brought food I didn't eat. Vincent checked the locks every morning and evening. The other staff pretended I was invisible.
At night, I called Jason again, pretending my new marriage was wonderful.
"How's married life?" he asked, excited. "Is Damien treating you well? Is the apartment nice?"
"It's perfect," I lied. "Everything is perfect."
"You sound sad."
"Just tired. Love you."
I hung up before he could ask more questions. Before I could tell him the truth: that I'd sold myself for his safety, and it turned out I wasn't even worth checking on.
The loneliness was eating me alive.
I started talking to myself. Having full conversations with my reflection. Laughing at my own jokes because no one else was there to hear them.
Was this what it meant to be Damien Wolfe's wife? To exist in a beautiful cage, slowly going crazy?
One night, I found myself standing on the balcony. Forty floors up. The city lights sparkled below like stars. I wondered what would happen if I just... stepped off.
Would anyone even notice?
Would Damien fly back for my funeral? Or would he just send Vincent to handle the details?
"Mrs. Wolfe, please step back from the edge."
Vincent. Always watching. Always there but never really there.
"Why?" I asked. "What's the point?"
"Because you're stronger than this." He stood beside me carefully. "I've seen a lot of Mr. Wolfe's... associates. You're different."
"Different how? More pathetic?"
"More human." He handed me an envelope. "This came for you today. From a lawyer in Singapore."
My hands shook as I opened it.
Inside was a document. A contract. But not the marriage contract I'd signed.
This one was older. Dated five years ago.
"Contract for Aria Chen," I read aloud. "Surrogate carrier for Wolfe heir. Terms: subject will become pregnant via clinical insemination, carry child to term, relinquish all parental rights upon birth, and accept relocation with new identity. Compensation: ten million dollars."
My vision blurred. "This doesn't make sense. My name is Zhang, not Chen. And I never signed this."
"Look at the photo attached," Vincent said quietly.
I turned the page.
The woman in the photo looked exactly like me. Same face. Same hair. Same eyes.
But it wasn't me.
"Who is this?" I whispered.
"That's what I need you to tell me." Vincent's face was grim. "Because according to this contract, Aria Chen carried and delivered Damien's daughter five years ago. She was paid, relocated, and disappeared."
"But Jessica said—" My mind raced. "She said she had information about Damien. About his father. What if—"
My phone buzzed. Unknown number.
A text message with a single photo.
A little girl. Maybe four or five years old. Golden eyes. Dark hair. Beautiful.
The text below read: Her name is Isabella. She's Damien's daughter. And technically, she's yours too. Want to know why you look exactly like the woman who gave birth to her? Want to know why Marcus really bought your debt and forced this marriage? Meet me tomorrow. Midnight. The address below. Come alone, or I'll send this information to every news outlet in the world. -J
I stared at the photo. At the little girl who somehow looked like she could be mine.
"Vincent." My voice was hollow. "Does Damien have a daughter?"
His silence was answer enough.
"How old?"
"Five."
The timeline crashed into place. Jessica "died" five years ago. Right around when this child would have been born.
"And where is she now?"
"With Marcus. At the compound in Singapore." Vincent looked sick. "Damien doesn't even know I know. He's kept her hidden from everyone. Even his closest associates."
"Why?"
"Protection, I assumed. But now..." He stared at the contract in my hands. "Now I'm not sure what's real anymore."
I looked at the photo again. At little Isabella with Damien's eyes.
At the girl who might somehow be connected to me.
At the child who could unravel every lie I'd been told.
"I'm going to that meeting," I said.
"It's a trap. Obviously."
"I don't care." I met Vincent's eyes. "Something is very wrong here. This marriage, these deaths, this child, the woman who looks exactly like me—it's all connected. And I'm going to find out how."
"Damien will kill me if something happens to you."
"Damien doesn't care if I live or die. He proved that when he left me alone with a gun to my head." I grabbed my coat. "Are you coming or not?"
Vincent hesitated, then nodded. "We leave at eleven-thirty."
Twenty-three hours later, we stood outside an abandoned warehouse at midnight.
The door was unlocked. Open. Waiting.
I stepped inside.
The space was dark except for one spotlight in the center. Under it stood a woman with her back to me.
"Jessica?" I called out.
She turned slowly.
I screamed.
It wasn't Jessica.
It was me.
The woman had my exact face. My exact body. My exact everything.
She smiled with my smile.
"Hello, Aria Zhang. I'm Aria Chen." She laughed. "Welcome to the family. Did you really think you were the first replacement Marcus groomed to carry Wolfe babies? Did you think you were special?"
Behind her, a door opened.
Marcus Wolfe stepped out of the shadows, holding Isabella's hand.
"Hello, daughter," he said to me.
The little girl looked up at me with recognition in her eyes. Like she'd been waiting for me her whole life.
"Mommy?" Isabella whispered. "Did you finally come home?"