The night had not ended for Damian Cross.
It only changed color.
By the time dawn brushed against the skyline, he was still in his office, sleeves rolled up, the faint glow of monitors painting harsh light across his face. He had not slept. He didn't plan to.
Every file on Aria Lyn, or Valen, or whatever name she chose now, sat open before him. His team had sent everything: design records, travel logs, charity appearances, even the dates of her last runway shows. But there was something missing. Something deliberately erased.
Her past.
Every trail before five years ago simply vanished, as if she had never existed before then.
He scrolled again, eyes catching a single document in the pile. An old financial record.
A transfer made from one of his subsidiary accounts to an unregistered medical facility in Florence.
Date: exactly one week before Aria disappeared.
His chest tightened. "What the hell…"
He grabbed his phone and dialed Elias.
The man answered almost immediately. "Sir?"
"I need you to trace a payment from our archive," Damian said, his tone clipped. "Amount: fifty thousand euros. Destination: a private clinic. I want the name of whoever authorized it."
There was a pause. "Understood, sir. But that might take time. The archives were"
"Do it in an hour," Damian snapped, then softened his tone. "And Elias, keep it quiet."
"Of course."
When the call ended, Damian leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. He could still see Aria's face from last night, her trembling hands, the look in her eyes when he said the word twins.
It wasn't anger he saw there. It was fear.
And that scared him more than anything.
---
Across town, Aria sat by the edge of her bed, staring at the unopened black box on the table. The pendant inside gleamed faintly in the early light. Her fingers itched to throw it away, but she couldn't.
That name on the note, Miss Lyn, echoed in her head. No one should know that name anymore. Not after what she'd done to bury it.
She picked up her phone, checking for new messages. Nothing. The unknown number had gone silent.
For now.
Her reflection in the mirror looked unfamiliar, pale skin, dark circles under her eyes, the exhaustion of too many years of pretending to be fine. She turned away, forcing herself to focus on the twins' laughter from the living room.
"Mommy, look! Luca made pancakes!"
Aria smiled faintly and stepped out to see the mess on the counter. Batter everywhere, flour on Luca's cheek, Lily giggling uncontrollably. For a moment, it almost felt normal.
She bent down and kissed them both. "You're amazing, both of you."
They grinned, proud of their masterpiece, even if half-burned.
Normal. She wanted to freeze this moment forever.
But the doorbell rang.
Her heart skipped.
She checked the screen. A delivery man, holding a bouquet of white lilies.
"For Miss Aria Valen," he said when she opened the door.
She frowned. "From who?"
He shrugged. "No sender listed."
She hesitated, then took them. The scent was faint but familiar, sharp, clean, and cold. She carried the bouquet inside and set it on the counter, removing the small white card tucked between the stems.
It read:
The past never dies, it just changes its name.
Aria's fingers tightened on the card until it tore. She quickly turned away from the twins. "Kids, finish your breakfast, okay? Mommy has to make a call."
She stepped into her room, shut the door, and took a deep breath. Then she dialed the only number she swore she would never call again.
"Damian Cross," his voice came through, low and calm.
"It's me," she said. "Don't talk. Just listen. Someone is playing with us."
There was a pause. "Aria?"
"I got another message," she said, her tone trembling despite her effort to sound composed. "Not a text this time. Flowers. With a note. The same handwriting."
His chair creaked faintly through the line. "What did it say?"
"The past never dies, it just changes its name."
Silence stretched on his end. Then his voice hardened. "Don't go anywhere. I'll send security to your place."
"No," she snapped. "You don't get to invade my life again."
"Aria"
"I mean it, Damian. Whoever this is, they're targeting both of us. That means you have enemies too. And if this comes back to me or the kids"
Her voice broke before she could stop it. She inhaled sharply. "I won't let that happen."
"Aria," Damian said quietly. "Let me protect you. Please."
She closed her eyes, hating that his voice still had power over her. "I don't need your protection."
"Then let me protect them," he said.
Her silence said more than any answer could.
Finally, she whispered, "You're five years too late," and ended the call.
---
Half an hour later, Damian stood before his office window, fists clenched at his sides. The call echoed in his head, every word stabbing deeper.
He wasn't just losing control, he was losing her all over again.
A knock came at the door. Elias entered, holding a file. "Sir, I found something."
Damian turned sharply. "The clinic?"
Elias nodded. "Yes. The transfer was authorized by Calder Voss."
Damian froze. The same man found dead two nights ago.
Elias continued, "And there's more. The clinic burned down shortly after the transfer. No surviving records, except for one name found in the insurance data."
He handed over a printed page.
Patient: Aria Lyn
Admission Date: March 12, 5 years ago
Status: Confidential
Damian's pulse roared in his ears.
She wasn't just running. She had been hiding from something far bigger.
He whispered to himself, "What happened in that clinic, Aria?"
---
Aria moved quietly through her apartment, every step measured, every sound amplified in her mind. The twins were playing with building blocks on the floor, oblivious to the tension creeping through the air. She couldn't let them see her panic, not yet.
The pendant from the black box glinted faintly in her hand. Her instincts screamed at her that the note, the flowers, even the message from Damian, were all bait. Someone wanted a reaction. Someone wanted her exposed.
A shadow shifted outside her window.
She froze, eyes narrowing. The blinds were closed, but the figure moved closer to the glass. Heart hammering, she grabbed the cordless phone. She didn't call Damian. Not yet.
Instead, she dialed the only number she could trust, her longtime assistant in Florence.
"Lila, lock every entrance," she whispered as she leaned against the wall. "Check the perimeter. And do not let anyone up here unless I say so."
"Understood, Miss Valen," Lila replied immediately. Her voice was calm, steady, the one anchor Aria had.
The figure outside shifted again, clearly waiting. Aria swallowed her fear, forced her legs to move, and slowly opened the window a crack, just enough to peer out.
The man's gray coat caught the dim morning light. He was tall, hands tucked into pockets, face obscured by a scarf. He wasn't filming, wasn't snapping photos, he was watching. Waiting.
Aria's mind raced. She needed proof. She grabbed her phone and snapped several photos through the glass. No sudden movements. Every motion had to be calculated.
Then the man moved. Quick, deliberate. He had noticed something.
Her heart skipped. She yanked the blinds fully down and pressed her back against the wall. She could hear her own breathing, the quiet tick of the clock, the distant hum of the city below. And then...
A soft chime from the intercom.
She froze. Her fingers hovered over the button. The screen displayed "Delivery."
"I didn't order anything," she muttered.
The man outside didn't move, but the sound of the intercom buzzed again. She swore under her breath and picked up the receiver.
"Yes?" Her voice was steady, though her pulse raced.
"Miss Valen," a deep, disguised voice said. "Package for you."
Her grip on the phone tightened. "Leave it at the door."
"Not allowed," the voice replied. "I need you to take it personally."
Her eyes darted to the window. The figure hadn't moved. Not a step.
She knew instinctively: if she opened the door, she could be walking straight into a trap.
And yet, her curiosity, and fear, won.
Aria descended the steps cautiously, twins forgotten in the living room as she slipped a coat over her shoulders. Her phone buzzed in her pocket. Damian's name flashed on the screen. She ignored it. She had to handle this herself first.
When she opened the door, a small black envelope rested on the mat. No one else. No delivery man.
Hands shaking, she picked it up. The seal bore a single mark, an emblem she didn't recognize. She tore it open. Inside, a single sheet of paper.
Stop running. Stop hiding. The truth will surface. And it will cost you everything.
Aria's stomach turned. Whoever this was, they knew more than she realized.
---
Meanwhile, across the city, Damian's office had become a war room. Files, emails, and encrypted messages littered every surface. Elias paced beside him, frustration clear.
"Sir, Calder Voss is dead. That file could have been pulled from anywhere. But someone else is manipulating it. And fast," Elias said.
Damian's hands clenched into fists. "They're inside my company. Someone trusted. Someone with access."
Elias swallowed. "We have a few leads. But it's risky. Whoever did this, they're not stopping at threats."
Damian's jaw tightened. "Then I won't either. Track every call, every email, every financial record from the past five years. I want the person who's targeting her, whoever it is, found before they get to her, or the children."
"Understood."
He stared out at the skyline. Rain had started again, streaking the glass. The city seemed calm, but Damian felt the storm growing, tangible and merciless.
Five years of control, five years of absence, and now the past had clawed its way back. And he would not fail again.
---
Back at the apartment, Aria's eyes lingered on the paper. She felt the weight of it settle in her chest.
She thought of the twins, asleep upstairs, innocent and unaware of the danger stalking their mother.
Her fingers curled around the paper. "I can't let them see this," she whispered.
Her phone buzzed again. Damian. She ignored it. Not yet.
And then a soft knock at the window made her jump.
The shadowy figure. Close enough to touch. Waiting.
Aria drew in a sharp breath. The game had begun.
---