The glass walls of the conference wing reflected the city's pale morning light. Aria moved through the corridor, tablet in hand, every line of her posture calm. Yet beneath that serenity pulsed quiet alertness — Vivienne had been too quiet since yesterday's failed scheme.
Lucien's office door was slightly ajar. Inside, his voice was low, measured, but edged with irritation."I don't want another miscommunication, Vivienne. Our clients trust consistency, not chaos."
Aria paused outside, unseen, listening.
Vivienne's tone was syrupy. "Of course, Lucien. I only tried to help. Aria's numbers were… unconventional."
Lucien cut her off. "Her work was flawless. Don't question what you don't understand."
A flash of satisfaction rippled through Aria, but she quickly smothered it. This wasn't victory yet — just proof Vivienne was rattled. She stepped back before she could be noticed, giving them distance, her heart steadying as she walked toward the design studio.
An hour later, Lucien found her there, standing before a wall of sketches — soft silks and sharp silhouettes, elegance born of resilience."You left before I could thank you," he said.
Aria didn't look up immediately. "There was nothing to thank me for. We both have jobs to do."
"You make it sound simple," he murmured, moving closer. "But what you do… how you handle people like Vivienne — that isn't simple."
She turned, meeting his gaze. For a heartbeat, time stilled. The air between them was charged, heavy with words neither dared speak.
"I've learned not to trust simplicity," she replied softly. "It's usually the mask of something dangerous."
Lucien's jaw tightened — not in anger, but in understanding. "Then we're alike," he said. "Both surrounded by masks."
For a moment, she saw the man she had once loved — the man who used to understand her without a word. It twisted something deep inside her chest. She looked away, breaking the spell.
"I should finalize the next prototype," she said, voice cool again.
Lucien nodded, though his eyes lingered on her face. "You remind me of someone," he said quietly. "Someone I lost."
Aria froze, her heart catching painfully. "I'm sorry," she whispered, and turned back to her sketches before he could see the emotion in her eyes.
Across the hall, Vivienne watched through the glass partition, her nails digging into her palm. The sight of Lucien standing so close to Aria ignited a storm of jealousy.
"She thinks she's untouchable," Vivienne hissed under her breath. "But everyone breaks eventually."
She opened her phone, fingers flying across the screen. If subtle sabotage failed, she would try something personal — something that would force Aria Vale into the spotlight for all the wrong reasons.
That evening, as Aria left the building, a black car waited at the curb. She hesitated, a flicker of unease threading through her calm. The driver rolled down the window slightly. "Miss Vale? Mr. Kane sent me to ensure you got home safely."
Her instincts tightened. "Did he?" she asked quietly.
She studied the man's expression — neutral, unreadable — before finally nodding and stepping back. "Tell Mr. Kane I appreciate his concern," she said, voice calm but wary, "but I prefer to drive myself."
As the car pulled away, she caught her reflection in the glass door — poised, untouchable, yet shadowed by memories.
This isn't just business anymore, she thought. It's the beginning of something far more dangerous.