The silence in the Grand Imperial Banquet Hall was no longer stunned; it was electric. It was the kind of heavy, suffocating silence that preceded a public execution.
Lucas scrambled to his feet, his face a patchwork of red shame and white fury. He dusted off his white suit trousers, avoiding the gaze of the hundreds of guests staring at him. He looked like a prince who had just been dethroned and kicked into the mud.
"Uncle," Lucas hissed, his voice trembling with suppressed rage. "You... you can't be serious. This is a joke, right? Aria put you up to this?"
Damien didn't even blink. He stood like a statue carved from obsidian, his hand resting casually in his pocket, his other arm acting as a steel barrier around Aria.
"Do I look like a man who tells jokes?" Damien asked, his tone bored.
Lucas flinched. No. Damien Sinclair didn't joke. He destroyed companies for breakfast and ruined bloodlines for lunch.
Beside Lucas, Bella finally rebooted. Her brain, usually sharp and manipulative, had short-circuited for a moment. But now, survival instinct kicked in. She saw the cameras flashing. She saw the guests whispering. The narrative was slipping away from her.
'I have to fix this. Now.'
Bella took a delicate step forward, her hands clasping together in a prayer-like gesture. Tears welled up in her big, blue doe eyes instantly. It was a performance worthy of an Oscar.
"Uncle Damien," Bella choked out, her voice wobbling perfectly. "Please... don't be angry with Sister. It's not her fault."
She turned to the cameras, looking fragile and brave.
"Everyone, please stop filming! My sister... she hasn't been well since our mother passed away." Bella looked at Aria with heartbreaking pity. "Aria, please come home. I know you're acting out because you're off your medication, but dragging Mr. Sinclair into your delusions is dangerous!"
The crowd murmured.
"Medication?"
"Is Aria Vale mentally unstable?"
"That explains it. No sane woman would run away from Lucas."
Aria watched the performance, a cold admiration flickering in her eyes. 'She's good. She twists reality so fast it gives you whiplash.'
In her past life, Aria would have screamed, denied it, and looked crazy—proving Bella right.
But not this time.
Aria tilted her head, studying her sister. She didn't need a medical degree to diagnose this. She knew every tic, every pause, every fake intake of breath. She had spent a lifetime studying Bella Vale.
She saw the way Bella's fingers twitched against her dress—not from fear, but from anticipation. She saw the dryness of Bella's eyes before the forced tears appeared.
'You're not sad, Sister,' Aria thought coldly. 'You're calculating.'
Aria laughed.
It was a soft, chilling sound that cut through Bella's sobbing.
"Medication?" Aria stepped forward, moving out of Damien's protective circle. "That's interesting, Sister. Since when do I take medication?"
Bella bit her lip, looking terrified. "Sister, don't be like this. Dr. Evans said your paranoia was getting worse..."
"Dr. Evans?" Aria raised an eyebrow. "You mean the psychiatrist on your payroll? The one who bought a new Porsche the day after he signed my diagnosis?"
Bella's eyes widened. "I... I don't know what you're talking about!"
"Of course you don't." Aria took another step. She loomed over Bella, despite being shorter. The aura radiating off her was suffocating. "You also don't know why my champagne tasted like ketamine last night, do you?"
Gasps rippled through the room.
"Sister!" Bella shrieked, looking at Lucas for help. "She's hallucinating again!"
Suddenly, a booming voice interrupted the standoff.
"Enough!"
A middle-aged man with greying hair and a face red with anger stormed through the crowd. It was Raymond Vale—Aria and Bella's father. He looked furious, but not at the daughter who spiked the drink.
He marched straight up to Aria and raised his hand.
"You unfilial disgrace!" Raymond roared. "You run away, embarrass the family, and now you spread lies about your sister? Go home immediately!"
His hand swung down, aiming for Aria's cheek.
Aria didn't flinch. She didn't even blink.
Because she knew the monster standing behind her wouldn't allow it.
Wham.
The slap never landed.
It wasn't Damien who stopped it. He hadn't moved a muscle. He stood with his hands in his pockets, his expression one of utter revulsion, as if a sewer rat had just scurried across the floor.
Instead, a massive Sinclair bodyguard had materialized from the shadows. With a single, fluid motion, the guard caught Raymond's wrist in an iron grip, twisting it sharply behind his back.
"Argh! Let go!" Raymond screamed, forced to his knees by the guard's brutal efficiency.
He looked down at Raymond with dead, shark-like eyes.
"Mr. Vale," Damien said softly, his voice cutting through Raymond's panic. "Did you just try to strike my fiancée?"
Raymond paled, sweat breaking out on his forehead. He looked up at the towering figure of the man who owned half the city.
"M-Mr. Sinclair," Raymond stammered, pain contorting his face. "You... you don't understand. She is my daughter. I am disciplining her!"
"She is a Sinclair now," Damien stated, his voice devoid of warmth. "Her discipline is my concern. Not yours."
Raymond cradled his twisted wrist as the bodyguard finally released him. He was terrified, but greed quickly overpowered his fear. He looked at Damien, then at Aria, calculating the profits. If Aria was really marrying Damien...
"Mr. Sinclair," Raymond said, changing his tune instantly. He forced a slimy smile, rubbing his aching arm. "If... if Aria is truly engaging to you, then this is a joyous occasion! A union between the Vale and Sinclair families would be—"
"There is no union," Damien cut him off. "I am marrying Aria. Not the Vale family."
He adjusted his cufflink, looking bored.
"However," Damien continued. "My fiancée needs a dowry. To save face."
Raymond's eyes lit up. "Of course! Whatever she needs!"
Damien turned to Aria. "What do you want?"
Aria looked at her father. She saw the greed in his eyes. He didn't care that she was safe; he only cared that she was valuable.
"My mother's shares," Aria said clearly. "The 20% of Vale Entertainment that she left to me. You transferred them to your name as 'trustee' until I turned 21. I want them back. Now."
Raymond froze. "Aria, those are... that's a significant amount of the company. You're too young to manage—"
"Give them to her," Damien interrupted. "Or I acquire Vale Entertainment tomorrow morning and dismantle it for spare parts."
It wasn't a threat. It was a weather forecast.
Raymond swallowed hard. He looked at Lucas, hoping for support, but Lucas was still nursing his bruised ego on the sidelines. He looked at Bella, who was pale and silent.
"Fine," Raymond gritted out. "I'll have the lawyers draft the transfer tomorrow."
"Tonight," Damien corrected. "My lawyers are outside."
He turned to Aria, offering his arm again. The golden eyes softened by a fraction—just enough for her to see, but invisible to everyone else.
"Shall we go, Mrs. Sinclair? The air in here smells like cheap perfume and desperation."
Aria hooked her arm through his, a genuine smile touching her lips for the first time that night.
"Lead the way, Darling."
They turned and walked away, leaving a shattered ex-fiancé, a trembling sister, and a terrified father in their wake.
As they exited the banquet hall, the heavy doors closing behind them, the noise of the party cut off instantly.
Damien didn't stop walking. He marched her straight to the waiting Rolls Royce. The driver opened the door, and Damien practically shoved her inside before climbing in after her.
The door slammed shut. The privacy partition slid up.
The mask dropped.
Damien slumped back against the leather seat, his hand flying to his temple. A groan tore from his throat—a sound of raw agony.
"Fuck," he swore, his voice strained. "Too loud. Too bright."
The adrenaline of the confrontation had faded, and the sensory overload was crashing back in. The flashing cameras, the murmuring crowd, the smell of Raymond's cheap cologne—it was all triggering a massive migraine spike.
Aria didn't hesitate.
She kicked off her heels and shifted across the seat. She reached out, her cool hands finding the tense muscles of his neck.
"Shh," she whispered, her voice shifting from the sharp tone of the 'Black-Belly Queen' to the soft, professional tone of a healer. "I'm here."
Damien leaned into her touch instantly, his body starving for it. He grabbed her waist, pulling her onto his lap without asking. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply.
"Payment," he rasped, his breath hot against her skin. "I got you your shares. Now... stop the noise."
Aria's heart skipped a beat at the intimacy, but she didn't pull away. She sank her thumbs into the base of his skull, beginning the treatment.
'Contract marriage,' she reminded herself, even as his large hand tightened possessively on her thigh. 'This is just business.'
But as the car sped through the city night, with the most dangerous man in the world trembling in her arms, it felt dangerously like something else.