The rain came down like judgment.
Aria stood beneath the awning of the abandoned hotel, fingers curled tight around the phone in her hand. The message still glowed on the screen.
Unknown: Come alone. Midnight. Or he pays the price.
Her pulse refused to calm.
Inside the dim lobby, water dripped from broken chandeliers. Every step echoed, too loud, too final. She told herself she wasn't afraid—but the lie tasted bitter.
"Right on time."
The voice emerged from the shadows, smooth and amused. Dante Moretti stepped forward, coat immaculate despite the storm. His gaze swept over her, sharp and unreadable.
"You threatened me," Aria said, lifting her chin. "That was a mistake."
Dante smiled faintly. "No. It was an invitation."
He gestured toward a table set at the center of the lobby—two chairs, a single folder.
"Sit."
She didn't.
"What do you want?"
Dante's eyes darkened. "A partnership."
Aria laughed once, brittle. "You kidnapped my brother."
"I protected him," Dante corrected calmly. "From people far worse than me."
He slid the folder across the table with one finger. Photos spilled out—documents, signatures, names she recognized from whispered rumors.
"This is proof," he continued, "that your family's ruin wasn't an accident. Someone is still pulling the strings."
Her breath hitched.
"You help me," Dante said softly, "and I make sure they never touch you again."
"And the price?"
His gaze held hers, unblinking. "You stay by my side. Publicly. Convincingly."
A fake relationship.
The thought sent heat rushing to her cheeks—anger, confusion, something else she refused to name.
"You're insane."
"Maybe." His voice lowered. "But I'm the only one telling you the truth."
Thunder cracked overhead.
Aria looked at the photos again, at the evidence she could never unsee.
If she walked away now, she'd be alone. Exposed.
If she stayed… she'd be stepping into Dante Moretti's world.
She met his eyes. "If I agree—no lies. No secrets."
Dante's smile was slow. Dangerous.
"Then welcome," he said, "to the beginning."