here's a fine line between curiosity and self-destruction.I've spent my career dancing on it in heels.
But tonight… I cross it barefoot.
It starts with a sound.A faint ping from Darian's office.It's 1:47 a.m. — he's asleep upstairs, and my insomnia has evolved into a full-time hobby.
I tell myself I'm just checking if he left the coffee machine on.(He didn't. He left his laptop open. And apparently, God loves irony.)
The screen glows, lighting up the dark like a secret begging to be read.
One message thread stands out — a contact saved only as R.K.My heart stutters.
R.K.Riven Kaul.
The man from the photo.The man who started all this.
I hover for exactly three seconds before clicking it.
The chat is short — cryptic, tense, alive.
R.K.: You're running out of time. She'll find out soon.Darian: Stay out of this.R.K.: You can't hide the past forever.Darian: I'm not hiding. I'm protecting her.
My stomach twists.Protecting me?
I scroll up — another message. Dated two months before the wedding.
R.K.: You can't save both your company and your conscience, Darian. Pick one.
The cursor blinks at me like it's judging my life choices.
So that's it, then.The man I thought betrayed me… was trying to protect me.And the man I thought I could finally trust… has been lying to me since day one.
The floor creaks behind me.I spin — Darian's standing there in the doorway, shadows cutting across his face.
His voice is low. "You shouldn't be here."
"Neither should your secrets," I shoot back.
He closes the distance between us slowly, like he's approaching a wild animal."Lyra—"
"Don't." My voice shakes, but I don't care. "Just don't. You said it wasn't about him. You said that photo was nothing."
"It wasn't—"
I laugh, sharp and hollow. "Oh, right. It wasn't betrayal. It was protection. How noble."
He runs a hand through his hair, jaw tight. "You don't understand."
"Then make me understand, Darian! Because I'm done being the dumb headline in your redemption story."
He exhales, finally meeting my eyes."Riven was my friend," he says quietly. "We built this company together. And then he started using our charity fund for personal laundering. I found out too late."
I stare at him. "So the photo—"
"Was the night I confronted him," he says. "He recorded it, twisted it, sent it to you. He knew you'd react."
My hands go cold. "He used me."
"And I used the situation," Darian admits, voice thick. "I needed to control the narrative. I needed to protect what was left."
I take a shaky breath. "So our marriage was… business strategy."
He doesn't deny it.Which somehow hurts more than if he had lied.
I back away, feeling the weight of every choice I've made since that night."I defended you," I whisper. "I fought for you. And all this time—"
He steps forward. "Lyra, please. I was trying to keep you safe. Riven is dangerous."
"Then you should've trusted me," I snap. "Not trapped me."
For a moment, neither of us moves.His eyes soften, pain flickering there — real, raw.
"I didn't mean for it to go this far," he says, voice low. "Somewhere between pretending and surviving, I—"He stops. Swallows the rest.
"You what?" I ask, heart pounding.
He looks at me like he wants to tell me everything and nothing at once.Then, quietly: "It doesn't matter anymore."
It matters.It matters more than anything.But I can't say that, because my throat feels full of broken glass.
I grab my phone, step past him."I'm done playing the clueless wife," I say. "If you won't tell me the truth, I'll find it myself."
"Lyra—"
"Don't." My voice cracks. "Don't call my name like it still means something."
I walk out before he can stop me.
Behind me, his whisper is barely audible — but it finds me anyway.
"It still does."