The note sat on the nightstand like a quiet scream.
"You were never meant to pay for his sins."
Ariana had read it over a dozen times, and still it echoed in her head like a haunting melody. Whoever had written it didn't just know what Damien had done they understood.
But how?
And why now?
She sat at the edge of the bed, legs crossed, the silk robe Damien had bought for her draped loosely over her shoulders. It no longer felt like a gift. It felt like a costume for a life that wasn't real.
She picked up her phone. No new messages. No missed calls. Damien was still silent.
Coward.
She stood abruptly, pacing the length of the bedroom like a trapped bird. Every step fed the storm rising inside her.
She had believed in him.
Even after discovering the truth his marriage proposal wasn't born out of love but revenge some pathetic part of her had hoped he might… change.
But he didn't even try to explain.
He ran.
She moved into the study. The door creaked softly just like the night she found the contract.
The printed pages had been sitting there, bold and unapologetic:
Marriage Agreement: Binding Term – 1 Year.
At the time, she had accepted it.
Desperate. Alone. Wanting to believe it would lead to something more.
Now she saw it for what it was a cage wrapped in flowers.
On the desk, her eyes fell upon a faded photograph she hadn't noticed before.
Celeste .
Damien's father's obsession.
A woman with hauntingly kind eyes. Her expression in the photo was soft, maternal, but behind it pain. Ariana could see it, even now.
She had always been told she looked like Celeste.
But she wasn't her daughter. Not by blood.
She had found the truth buried in legal files and sealed envelopes. She wasn't born into their world she had been brought into it.
So why had Damien targeted her?
Why had she been the collateral for a sin she didn't even commit?
And who… who was Seraphina?
The name had come up once. A slip in Damien's voice. A flash in a photo. A whisper in a dream.
She didn't know who she was yet. But she was going to find out.
And maybe, just maybe, that name held the key to everything Damien, his father, the lies she was raised in, the pain she never asked to inherit.
She returned to the bedroom and sat in front of her vanity. The woman in the mirror looked nothing like the one Damien married.
This woman was tired, but sharper.
Not broken. Just… waiting.
Her phone buzzed.
She didn't expect anything, but her breath caught anyway.
It wasn't Damien.
Unknown Number:
"Ask him who Celeste's real daughter is."
Her skin went cold.
Her fingers hovered over the screen.
She started to type Who is this? But the message disappeared.
Deleted.
Gone.
The room felt colder again.
But not because she was alone.
Because she wasn't.
Not anymore.
There were others watching. Others who knew. And while Damien had run from the truth, someone out there was willing to shove it right in her face.
Maybe she didn't need Damien to get answers.
Maybe she needed to start asking the right questions.