Aria's POV
The penthouse elevator doors opened, and I wanted to run.
Not because of the fancy apartment waiting inside. Not because Damien stood beside me, silent as a statue. But because my phone kept buzzing in my purse with messages I was too scared to read.
Your father killed those women. Ask him about Jessica.
Who was sending these? Why today? Why on my wedding day when everything already felt like a nightmare?
"Inside." Damien's voice was flat. Cold. Like he was giving orders to an employee.
I guess that's what I was now. An employee who signed a marriage contract instead of a work contract.
My hands shook as I stepped into his home. The apartment was huge and empty. Everything looked expensive but felt cold. Like a museum where nobody actually lived.
"Your room is down that hall. Second door." Damien pointed without looking at me. "Mine is the opposite direction."
Wait. Separate rooms?
"I thought—" My voice came out small. Scared. "Aren't we supposed to..."
He finally looked at me. His golden eyes were ice. "Supposed to what? Pretend this is a real marriage?"
Yes. No. I didn't know anymore.
"The contract says we need a baby," I whispered. My face burned with embarrassment. "So we have to... you know."
"Not tonight." He turned away. "You look exhausted. We'll handle that part of the arrangement when you're settled."
Relief and shame crashed through me at the same time. He didn't even want to touch me.
But then his phone buzzed. He looked at the screen and his whole body went rigid.
"What is it?" I asked.
He showed me without a word.
Another photo. This time it was a woman with long dark hair, smiling at the camera. She looked happy. Alive.
The next photo made my stomach twist. The same woman, but now she was lying on the ground. Not moving. Not alive.
Jessica. Death number two. Want to know how she really died, Damien?
"Stop." I turned away, feeling sick. "Why is someone sending you this?"
"That's what I need to find out." His voice was deadly quiet. "And I need to do it before we go to my father's compound tonight."
"Your father." I remembered the cruel man who bought my family's debt. Who treated me like an object he was purchasing. "Do you think he's involved in this? In these women dying?"
Damien's jaw clenched. "I don't know. But someone wants me to think so."
My phone buzzed again. Another unknown number.
Poor Aria. She has no idea what family she just married into. Check Damien's safe. Code 0418. See what kind of man you just gave yourself to.
I showed Damien the text with trembling hands.
"0418." His face went pale. "That's my mother's death date. April 18th. How does anyone know that?"
"What safe?" I asked.
He didn't answer. Instead, he walked to a painting on the wall and pulled it aside. Behind it was a metal safe. His fingers moved over the keypad slowly.
0-4-1-8.
Click.
The safe opened.
Inside were files. Lots of files. Damien pulled them out one by one, his hands shaking now too.
"These are..." He couldn't finish the sentence.
I looked over his shoulder. Each file had a woman's name. Photos. Medical records. Death certificates.
Sarah Chen. Age 24. Died in car accident.
Jessica Martinez. Age 26. Died from drowning.
Emma Thompson. Age 23. Died from falling down stairs.
All of them had been Damien's girlfriends. All of them died within months of dating him.
"I didn't put these here," Damien said. His voice shook. "Someone planted them. Someone wants me to look guilty."
"Or," I whispered, fear making me brave, "someone wants you to know the truth."
He spun around, eyes blazing. "You think I killed them? You think I'm a murderer?"
"I think you're hiding something!" The words burst out. "I think this whole family is hiding something! And I just signed my life away to you without knowing what I was really agreeing to!"
Damien grabbed my shoulders. Not hard. Not hurting. But firm. His golden eyes locked onto mine.
"Listen to me carefully. I did not kill those women. But someone did. And whoever it is, they're targeting anyone who gets close to me." His grip tightened. "Which means you're in danger now too."
My blood turned to ice. "What?"
"The contract. The marriage. This whole arrangement." His voice dropped lower. "What if it was never about getting an heir? What if my father needed me married for a different reason?"
"What reason?"
"To give him another target. Another woman close to me that he can—"
The lights went out.
Complete darkness swallowed the penthouse.
I gasped. Damien pulled me against his chest, and I felt his heart pounding as fast as mine.
"Stay quiet," he breathed in my ear.
Footsteps. Soft. Coming from somewhere in the apartment.
We weren't alone.
Damien's hand found mine in the darkness. He squeezed once—a warning to stay silent—then pulled me behind him.
The footsteps got closer.
My breath came in short, panicked gasps. This was my wedding night. I was supposed to be safe. Scared, yes. But safe.
A voice spoke from the darkness. Low. Mechanical. The same voice from the phone call at the courthouse.
"Hello, newlyweds. Did you find the files? Did you finally understand?" A pause. "Marcus Wolfe has killed three women. Aria Zhang is number four. Unless you both do exactly what I say."
Light suddenly flooded one corner of the penthouse. A laptop screen glowing on the dining table.
On the screen was a video. Live footage.
Of my little brother. Jason. Tied to a chair in a dark room. A man in a mask stood behind him, holding a knife to his throat.
"No!" I screamed.
"One wrong move," the mechanical voice continued, "and your brother dies. One call to the police, and he dies. One attempt to warn Marcus Wolfe, and he dies."
"What do you want?" Damien's voice was deadly calm.
"Simple. Tonight at dinner, you'll both act normal. You'll smile. You'll play the happy couple. And when Marcus makes his toast, Damien will drink every drop. Because that wine is poisoned. And watching you die slowly in front of your new bride is exactly what your father deserves to witness."
The screen went black.
The lights came back on.
The apartment was empty again. Whoever had been here was gone.
I collapsed against Damien, my legs giving out. He caught me, held me up.
"Jason," I sobbed. "They have Jason."
"I know." His voice was stone. "And we're going to get him back."
"How? They want you to drink poison! They want you to die!"
Damien's golden eyes met mine. For the first time since I'd met him, I saw real emotion there. Fear. Determination. And something else.
Protection.
"Then I'll drink it," he said simply. "If that's what it takes to save your brother and expose my father, I'll do it."
"No! You can't—"
"You're my wife now, Aria. That means your family is my responsibility." He pulled out his phone. "Vincent needs to know. We have six hours before dinner. Six hours to find your brother and figure out who's really behind this."
"And if we can't?"
His jaw set in a hard line. "Then I drink the poison, and you record everything. My death will be the evidence that brings Marcus down and frees you from this family."
"Damien—"
"Promise me." He gripped my arms. "Promise me that if I die tonight, you'll destroy my father. Make him pay for every woman he's killed. Every life he's ruined. Promise me."
Tears streamed down my face. This man who'd treated me like a business deal an hour ago was now willing to die for me.
"I promise," I whispered.
His phone buzzed one final time.
A photo appeared. My brother Jason, still tied up. But now someone else was in the frame behind him.
Someone I recognized from the files in the safe.
A woman who was supposed to be dead.
Jessica Martinez. Damien's drowned ex-girlfriend. Very much alive.
And she was smiling at the camera like she'd won a game we didn't know we were playing.
The text below read: See you at dinner, husband. Let's see if your new wife survives longer than I did. -J