Aria's POV
"What do you mean someone tried to kill Marco?"
My voice doesn't sound like mine. It's too high, too desperate.
Damien's jaw tightens. "I had security watching your apartment. Twenty minutes ago, two men broke in. Marco fought back. He's alive, but he's hurt."
The world tilts. "How bad?"
"I don't know yet."
The hospital comes into view, and before the car fully stops, I'm out and running. Damien's hand catches my arm.
"ICU, third floor. He's in surgery. They won't let you see him yet."
"Let go of me!"
"Aria." His grip tightens. "Listen to me. Those men weren't random thieves. They were looking for something. Something they think your father left behind."
"I don't care! My brother—"
"Is being treated by the best surgeons in the state. I made sure of that." He releases me. "But you need to understand what's happening. This isn't just about debt anymore. Your family is caught in something bigger."
I want to scream at him. Want to blame him for everything. But a nurse approaches us.
"Family of Marco Moretti?"
"Yes!" I rush to her. "Is he okay?"
"He's stable. Broken arm, concussion, some bruising. He was lucky." She glances at Damien nervously. "The police want to speak with you both."
Two detectives wait in a private room. They ask questions I can barely answer. Who would want to hurt Marco? Did he have enemies? Did our father leave anything valuable?
"No," I lie. "He left us nothing but debt."
After the detectives leave, Damien's phone rings. He steps into the hallway, but I hear parts of his conversation.
"...found the device in the boy's room... tracking software... they knew exactly when to strike..."
My blood runs cold. Someone was watching us. Tracking Marco.
Damien returns, his face grim. "They planted a tracker in your apartment three days ago. They've been monitoring you both."
"Why? We have nothing!"
"Your father took something besides money. Information. And someone thinks you have it."
Before I can respond, a doctor appears. "You can see him now. Five minutes."
I don't wait for permission. I run to Marco's room.
He looks so small in the hospital bed, his arm in a cast, bruises darkening his face. But his eyes open when I enter.
"Aria." His voice is weak. "I'm sorry."
"Sorry? For what?" I grab his hand carefully.
"I fought back. Maybe if I'd just let them take whatever they wanted—"
"Don't you dare apologize for defending yourself." Tears stream down my face. "What did they want?"
"They kept asking about Dad's office. Said he took something that belonged to them." Marco's eyes fill with fear. "They said if we didn't tell them where it was, they'd come back and finish the job."
Ice floods my veins. "Did you tell them anything?"
"I don't know anything! Dad's office was cleaned out three years ago." He grips my hand tighter. "Aria, I'm scared."
"I won't let them hurt you again. I promise."
A nurse enters. "Time's up. He needs rest."
I kiss Marco's forehead and leave. Damien waits in the hallway.
"He stays here under guard," Damien says. "Twenty-four hour security. No one gets to him."
"Why are you helping us?"
"Because you work for me now. And I protect what's mine." He starts walking. "Come on. We need to search your apartment."
"For what?"
"Whatever your father hid."
We arrive at my apartment building to find police tape across our door. Damien flashes some kind of ID, and they let us through.
Inside, everything is destroyed. Furniture slashed open, books thrown everywhere, even the walls have holes punched in them.
"They were thorough," Damien observes.
I walk through the wreckage of my life, trying not to cry. Everything we owned—destroyed.
Then I see it. Dad's old desk, the one piece of furniture I kept from our old house. The secret compartment.
I used to watch Dad hide birthday presents there when I was little. He thought I didn't know about it.
I kneel beside the desk and press the hidden panel. It clicks open.
Inside is a USB drive.
"Aria." Damien's voice is sharp. "Don't touch it."
But I already have. I hold it up to the light.
"My father left this?"
Damien crosses to me in three strides. "Give it to me."
"No." I pull back. "If this is what got Marco hurt, I deserve to know what's on it."
"You don't understand what you're dealing with—"
"Then explain it to me!" I shout. "Tell me the truth for once!"
Damien's face hardens. "Fine. Your father didn't just embezzle money from my company. He stole client information. Financial records. Passwords to offshore accounts worth hundreds of millions of dollars. That USB probably contains everything he took."
My legs give out. I sit hard on the floor. "He was a criminal."
"Yes."
"And you knew this whole time."
"Yes."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because you needed to hate me more than you needed to hate him." Damien crouches beside me. "Your father's death devastated you. Hating me gave you a reason to keep fighting. If you'd known the truth, it would have destroyed you."
I look at the USB drive in my shaking hand. "So everything I believed was a lie."
"Not everything. Your father loved you. He was just weak when it mattered most."
A phone rings. Damien answers, his expression darkening with each second.
"When?" He stands abruptly. "Lock down the hospital. Now."
He grabs my arm. "We need to go. Now."
"What's wrong?"
"The men who attacked Marco just sent a message. They know you found the USB drive." He pulls me toward the door. "And they're at the hospital. They're going after your brother again."
We run.
But as we reach the car, Damien's phone chimes. He stops dead.
"What?" I demand.
He shows me the screen. It's a photo of Marco's hospital room.
The bed is empty.
Below the photo, a message: We have the boy. Bring the USB drive to Pier 7 in one hour, or he dies. Come alone, Aria. If Cross shows up, your brother pays the price.
My world shatters.
"They took him," I whisper. "They took Marco."
Damien's face is stone. "How did they get past my security?"
His phone rings again. This time it's a video call.
A masked figure appears on screen, holding Marco with a knife to his throat.
"Hello, Aria," a distorted voice says. "Ready to trade?"