Aria read the message again.
Rules won't save you. He's already broken one.
Her fingers tightened around the unfamiliar phone Lucien had left behind. The device felt heavier than it should have, as if it carried more than circuits and glass—as if it carried expectation.
Broken one rule.
Which rule?
Her mind raced through the list Lucien had given her the night before. No wandering. No listening. No contact with anyone claiming knowledge of his past. Trust only him.
Had he contacted someone behind her back? Had someone entered the house without her knowing? Or worse—had Lucien lied to her already?
The silence of the mansion pressed in around her, suddenly oppressive.
Aria didn't reply to the message. Instinct told her that whoever was on the other end wanted engagement, wanted fear. She refused to give them that satisfaction.
Still, the unease lingered.
Lucien didn't return home until late that evening.
Aria was in the living room, pretending to read while her attention remained fixed on the sound of the front door. When it finally opened, she looked up.
Lucien stepped inside, jacket slung over one shoulder, his expression sharper than usual. There was something coiled in his posture, tension barely restrained.
"You stayed in," he noted.
"I didn't feel like going out," she replied. "Is that against the rules?"
"No," he said. "It's smart."
That wasn't reassuring.
She closed her book. "I got another message today."
Lucien stopped walking.
Slowly, deliberately, he turned to face her. "What did it say?"
"That rules won't save me," Aria answered. "And that you've already broken one."
A muscle jumped in his jaw.
"They're trying to unsettle you," he said.
"Are they wrong?"
His gaze flickered away for just a second. It was enough.
"Yes," he said firmly.
She stood, closing the distance between them. "Then explain it to me."
Lucien's eyes hardened. "We've been over this."
"I'm not asking for every detail," she said. "I'm asking for enough truth to know I'm not walking blind into something that could destroy me."
"You're already in it," he replied quietly.
The words settled between them like a warning bell.
Lucien exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "There are things tied to my past that attract attention. Dangerous attention."
"What kind of things?"
"People who lost something because of me."
Her chest tightened. "Did you hurt someone?"
Lucien's gaze snapped back to hers, sharp and cold. "I protected myself."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one you're getting."
Frustration surged, but beneath it was something else—curiosity, tangled with concern. "You don't seem like someone who acts without reason."
He studied her for a moment. "You give people too much credit."
"Maybe," she said. "Or maybe you're not as heartless as you want the world to believe."
Something dark and unreadable crossed his face.
"That belief," he said softly, "is what gets people hurt."
That night, Aria dreamed of locked doors and faceless voices whispering her name.
She woke before dawn, breath shallow, the echo of Lucien's warning still ringing in her ears.
She couldn't stay idle.
If there were rules, she needed to understand why they existed.
After breakfast—another silent affair—Lucien left for work with a brief warning.
"Stay inside today," he said. "No visitors."
"What about staff?" she asked.
"They're vetted."
"And the messages?"
Lucien paused. "Ignore them. I'll handle it."
She watched him leave, unease knotting tighter in her stomach.
The library called to her again.
Aria knew she shouldn't—but she also knew that knowledge was her only defense. She wasn't looking for secrets. She just needed context.
She approached the desk she'd noticed before. The locked drawer sat beneath it, unassuming, almost mocking.
Her heart pounded.
She checked the door. Locked.
Carefully, she tried the drawer.
It didn't budge.
She straightened, chastising herself. This is exactly what he warned you about.
Still, her eyes drifted to the bookshelves again.
This time, she noticed something different.
One section was arranged not by subject, but by date.
Legal volumes. Corporate law. Crisis management.
And buried between them—newspaper clippings.
Her pulse quickened as she pulled one free.
BLACKWOOD HEIR CLEARED IN CORPORATE FRAUD INVESTIGATION
She skimmed the article quickly. Years ago. A scandal involving embezzlement accusations against a subsidiary company. Lucien's name mentioned, but not charged.
Another clipping followed.
WHISTLEBLOWER FOUND DEAD IN APPARENT ACCIDENT
Her breath caught.
The article was vague, careful with its wording. No direct accusations. No conclusions. Just coincidence after coincidence stacked neatly together.
Aria's hands trembled as she replaced the papers.
Lucien hadn't lied.
He had protected himself.
But at what cost?
Footsteps echoed in the hallway.
She froze.
The door opened.
Lucien stood there.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
His gaze moved from her face to the shelf behind her.
Slowly, something dangerous settled into his expression.
"You broke the rules," he said quietly.
Aria swallowed. "I didn't touch anything important."
"You touched the past."
"I needed to understand why I'm being threatened."
Lucien crossed the room in measured steps. "Understanding puts you in the crossfire."
"Then why marry me at all?" she demanded. "Why drag me into this?"
His voice dropped. "Because you were already in danger."
Her blood ran cold. "What do you mean?"
Lucien stopped inches from her. "The debt you were drowning in didn't appear by accident."
The world tilted.
"You're saying—"
"I'm saying someone was watching you long before you signed that contract."
Her chest tightened painfully. "Who?"
Lucien's gaze softened just slightly. "The same people who don't want me breathing."
Fear slid down her spine.
"You should have told me," she whispered.
"And you would have walked away," he replied. "And they would have taken advantage of that."
"So you decided for me."
"Yes."
The honesty stunned her.
"I didn't marry you to own you," Lucien said quietly. "I married you to shield you."
"By controlling me?"
"By keeping you alive."
Tears burned her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.
"You don't get to decide what risks I take," she said.
Lucien's jaw tightened. "In my world, hesitation is fatal."
They stood there, tension thick and fragile.
Finally, Lucien stepped back.
"I won't apologize," he said. "But I won't lie to you anymore."
She searched his face. "About everything?"
"About what concerns you," he corrected.
It wasn't perfect.
But it was something.
That night, as Aria lay in bed, her phone buzzed again.
Unknown Number:
Now you know. Ask him about the accident.
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
Down the hall, Lucien's door was closed.
For the first time since the wedding, Aria understood the truth fully:
The man she married wasn't just hiding from his past.
He was running from it.
And sooner or later—
It would catch them both.