The city glittered beneath Aria Whitmore's heels as she stepped onto the rooftop of the Imperial Hotel.
She wasn't supposed to be here.
She was supposed to be at home, choosing wedding invitations.
Instead, she followed a text message sent anonymously:
"If you want to know what your fiancé is doing tonight, come to the rooftop."
Her hands trembled.
Ethan Vale would never betray her.
He loved her.
Didn't he?
The rooftop door creaked open.
Laughter.
A woman's voice.
Soft. Intimate.
Aria froze.
Then she heard Ethan's voice.
"I'll marry her next month. After that, Whitmore Group will be ours."
Ours?
The woman giggled. "And when will you get rid of her?"
A pause.
Aria's heart stopped.
"Soon."
Her world shattered.
She stepped forward. "Ethan?"
Silence exploded.
Ethan turned slowly.
No guilt.
No panic.
Only annoyance.
"You weren't supposed to find out like this," he sighed.
The woman clung to his arm possessively.
Aria felt the ground slipping.
"I loved you," she whispered.
Ethan's expression hardened.
"Love doesn't matter. Power does."
She backed away.
"You wouldn't—"
He stepped forward.
"Your company. Your shares. Your inheritance. I need them."
Need.
Not love.
Not marriage.
Just leverage.
Aria stumbled toward the edge.
"Ethan… please…"
His eyes were cold.
"You're too naive, Aria."
And then—
A shove.
Air.
Screaming wind.
City lights spinning.
Her last thought:
If I could live again… I would never love you.
Darkness swallowed her.