Aryan exploded from his father's study like a thunderbolt, the heavy door slamming against the wall with a crack that echoed through the marble hallway. Servants who had worked in the manor for decades pressed themselves against the walls, eyes cast downward, as he strode past. They had seen Samuel's rages before, but this, this was something different. This was the quiet, devastating fury of a son pushed to the edge.😞
He didn't look back. He couldn't. If he looked back, he might return and say something that would burn every bridge to the ground.
The grand staircase descended beneath his feet, each step a beat in the funeral march of his freedom. The chandeliers above cast their warm light on a man who felt nothing but cold inside. By the time he reached the circular driveway, the sleek black car was already waiting, its engine a low purr against the night's silence.
Aryan yanked the door open and threw himself into the backseat, slamming it shut with enough force to shake the vehicle. The windows tinted the world a darker shade of gray.
In the driver's seat, Lucas didn't flinch. He simply adjusted the rearview mirror, catching Aryan's reflection, the stormy eyes, the clenched jaw, the hands gripping his own knees as if trying not to punch something.
Lucas had been with Aryan for eight years. He started as a driver, but somewhere along the way, he'd become something more. A confidant. The only person in Aryan's life who didn't want something from him.
"Same old problem?" Lucas asked, his voice carefully light. "Or did today bring something special?"
Aryan's jaw tightened further. "Lucas. Don't ask. Just get me out of here. Take me to The Vault." 🍺
Lucas raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He put the car in gear, and they glided down the long driveway, leaving the golden cage of the manor shrinking in the rearview mirror.
The city of Aethelgard unfolded around them as they descended from the mountain. Rain had begun to fall, a soft drizzle that made the streetlights blur into liquid gold. The car moved through the wet streets like a shark through dark water; silent, powerful, hunting something unnamed.
Aryan leaned his head back against the leather seat, closing his eyes to drown out his father's voice, which still echoed in his mind like a persistent curse. By the twentieth of next month, you will be engaged. Thirty days. Thirty days to find a woman willing to sign away her life for a ring and a fortune. Or thirty days to watch his entire inheritance dissolve into charity.
He thought about the empire he had built within the empire, his tech acquisitions, his sustainable energy projects, the companies he had turned from dying into thriving. Was it all just his father's money at the end of the day? Would any of it matter if he walked away with nothing but his name?
Lucas glanced at him through the mirror. "Bro, every problem has a solution. Maybe this isn't as bad as you think. Maybe marriage could be... I don't know, fun?"
Aryan's eyes snapped open. "Fun? You think being forced into a contract with a stranger sounds fun?"
"Stranger danger, I get it," Lucas shrugged. "But arranged marriages happen everywhere. Some people even fall in love afterward. It's like a business merger, but with more candles and less paperwork."
"Lucas."
"I'm just saying—"
"Stop saying." 😒
Lucas grinned and focused on the road. The car hummed through the final turn toward The Vault, a nondescript doorway tucked between two luxury boutiques. Only those who knew looked for it. Only the elite of Aethelgard were allowed inside.
As they approached the corner, Lucas took it a little fast. The car's wide tires hit a deep puddle collected at the edge of the street, sending a wave of murky rainwater arcing through the air. It splashed violently onto the sidewalk, drenching a young woman who had been walking past, her umbrella tilted uselessly against the wrong angle.
Aryan didn't even glance. His mind was elsewhere, trapped in the golden cage he'd left behind.
But the car hadn't gone ten meters before a figure appeared in front of them, stepping directly into the path of the headlights. Lucas slammed the brakes, the car skidding slightly on the wet pavement.
Standing there, soaked from head to toe, her drenched dress clinging to her skin and her hair plastered to her face, was the young woman. In her hand, she held not a weapon, not a phone to call the police, but a single, muddy shoe she had lost to the puddle.
She didn't move. She just stood there, staring at the tinted windshield, daring whoever was inside to come out and face what they had done.
For the first time that night, Aryan looked up. Through the glass, through the rain, through the dim glow of the streetlights, he saw her. And something in the silent storm of his chest... shifted. 🌧