Damien's POV
I knew she would come to the game.
I've known everything about Aria Moretti for three years. Every job she's worked. Every bill she's failed to pay. Every desperate move she's made to keep her brother.
What I didn't know was how it would feel to finally sit across from her.
The casino floor monitor in my office shows her entering the building at 11:47 PM. She's wearing jeans and a jacket that's seen better days. Her dark hair is pulled back, and even on the grainy security footage, I can see the determination in her eyes.
The same eyes her father had the night he begged me for mercy.
"Sir?" Julian stands in my doorway. "She's heading to the third floor game."
"I know." I close my laptop and stand. "Have my car ready. This won't take long."
"You're really going to do this?" Julian sounds concerned. He's my best friend, which means he's one of the few people who can question me. "There are other ways—"
"No. There aren't." I adjust my cufflinks. "Her eviction is in six days. Child Services hearing in five. She's out of options, and she knows it."
"So you're going to trap her?"
I look at him. "I'm going to save her. Whether she wants it or not."
The game is already in progress when I arrive. I stand outside room 347 for a moment, watching through the small window in the door.
Aria sits at the table, and she's winning. Of course she is. Thomas Moretti might have been a thief and a coward, but he was brilliant with numbers. His daughter inherited that gift.
She's up fifteen thousand dollars. Enough to make her think she has a chance.
I open the door.
The effect is immediate. Players freeze. Some stand up to leave. They know who I am. Know what it means when I enter a game.
But Aria—Aria just stares at me with pure hatred.
Good. Hate is honest. Hate is real.
I sit across from her and watch her hands tremble. She's trying to hide her fear behind anger, but I see it. I see everything.
Within minutes, we're alone at the table. Just as I planned.
"I don't want to play with you," she says, her voice shaking.
Liar. She wants to destroy me. I can see it in her eyes—the same look her father had three years ago. The look that says she blames me for everything wrong in her life.
She doesn't know the truth. And I've worked very hard to keep it that way.
The game begins. I bet without looking at my cards because I don't need to. I'm not here to play poker. I'm here to give her a choice she doesn't know she's making.
When I go all in, I see the calculation in her eyes. She's good—really good—but she's emotional. Emotions make people stupid.
"Put up something else as collateral," I tell her. "Put up yourself."
I expect her to fold. To walk away. To choose the safe option.
But she doesn't.
"I'm all in," she says, and I feel something unexpected twist in my chest.
Respect.
She shows her cards. Two pair, aces and kings. A strong hand. Good enough to win most games.
I flip my cards. Seven and two. Three of a kind.
Her face crumbles, and for a second—just one second—I want to tell her the truth. Want to explain that her father wasn't who she thinks. That I'm not who she thinks.
But I don't. Because she needs to hate me right now. Needs that fire to survive what comes next.
"You lost," I say instead. "Which means starting tomorrow morning, you work for me."
I leave before I can see her cry. Before I can do something stupid like change my mind.
My driver is waiting downstairs. "To the office, sir?"
"No." I pull out my phone and make a call. "To the Moretti apartment."
Twenty minutes later, I'm standing in the hallway of the worst building in Las Vegas. The elevator is broken. The carpet is stained. The smell of old food and broken dreams fills the air.
This is where Aria Moretti lives. Where she's been slowly drowning for three years while I watched.
I knock on the door.
A teenage boy answers. Marco. He's taller than I expected, with his sister's dark eyes and his father's sharp features.
"Who are you?" he demands.
"Damien Cross. I need to speak with you about your sister."
His face goes pale. Then red. Then he tries to slam the door in my face.
I stop it with my hand. "Five minutes. That's all I'm asking."
"You're the reason my dad is dead!"
"Yes." I don't deny it. "I am. And now your sister has made a deal with me to clear his debt."
"What kind of deal?" His voice cracks. "What did you do to her?"
"Nothing. Yet." I pull an envelope from my jacket. "This is your acceptance letter to Brighton Academy. Full scholarship. Starting next month."
He doesn't take it. "I'm not leaving Aria."
"You don't have a choice. In five days, Child Services will place you in foster care unless your sister can prove she can support you. She can't." I push the envelope into his hands. "But I can. This school is your future, Marco. Don't throw it away because you're angry."
"I hate you," he whispers.
"Get in line." I turn to leave, then stop. "Your sister is stronger than you think. And smarter than your father ever was. She'll survive this."
"Will she survive you?"
I don't answer. Because I don't know.
Back in my penthouse, I pour myself a drink and stand at the window overlooking the city. Somewhere out there, Aria is probably crying. Probably planning how to escape. Probably hating me more than she's ever hated anyone.
My phone rings. My head of security.
"Sir, we have a problem. Someone broke into the vault where we keep Thomas Moretti's files."
My blood runs cold. "When?"
"Thirty minutes ago. They didn't take anything, but they accessed the embezzlement records. The real ones."
"Who?"
"We're checking cameras now, but sir—whoever it was, they knew exactly where to look. They had inside information."
I close my eyes. There are only three people who know where those files are kept. Me, Julian, and my head of security.
Which means someone very close to me is playing a dangerous game.
"Find them," I order. "Now."
I hang up and stare at my reflection in the window.
If those files get out—if Aria learns the truth about her father before I can tell her myself—everything I've planned falls apart.
My phone buzzes. A text from an unknown number.
I know what you're hiding about Thomas Moretti. And I'm going to make sure his daughter knows everything. You have 48 hours before I destroy you both.
The message includes a photo.
It's a picture of Aria's father. On the night he died.
But he's not alone in the photo.
He's with someone I never expected.
Someone who's been lying to me for three years.