The quiet of the estate had settled into its usual rhythm—soft footsteps from maids echoing down the marble hallways, the distant hum of the gardener trimming hedges outside, and the occasional click of Amara's heels across the pristine floors. She had spent the morning in the west library, sorting through old paperwork Zane had asked her to organize, but her mind had been somewhere else entirely.
Rowen had sent a message.
He'd found something—an offshore account tied to Darian, a payment trail leading back to a shell company Selene had once set up under a false name. It was a small crack, but a crack nonetheless.
Amara's fingers trembled as she closed the folder in front of her. The web was unraveling. Slowly. But dangerously.
Just as she stood to leave the room, a knock echoed at the front door.
Unusual. The estate rarely got surprise visitors.
She walked to the wide foyer and opened the double doors.
Her heart stalled.
Darian.
Tall, confident, that smirk painted across his face like he was a guest rather than a ghost.
"What the hell are you doing here?" she asked, her voice cool.
"Is that how you greet an old lover?" His eyes scanned her slowly, lingering where they once owned.
Amara didn't flinch. "Leave."
"Zane's not home, is he?" Darian asked as he stepped over the threshold without permission. "I figured he'd be out handling office while the perfect little wife plays house."
She closed the door behind him but didn't move closer. "If he finds you here—"
"He won't." Darian's voice dipped, smooth and low. "You've been busy, Amara. I can tell. You look… sharp. Focused. Like you've finally learned how to play the game."
He wandered deeper into the grand hall, brushing his fingers over the edge of a side table, admiring a vase . "You've changed."
Amara crossed her arms. "What do you want?"
He turned to her, dropping the act. "To remind you who you are."
"You don't get to do that."
"Don't I?" Darian took a step closer. "I made you. Every late-night promise,you believed me. You bent to me, Amara. You chose me. Don't pretend you're not still haunted by it."
Amara stiffened.
For a moment, silence.
Then she laughed—quiet, but real. "You think I'm still that woman who believed you when you said we'd build something behind Zane's back? No, Darian. That woman died."
"I noticed." His tone turned bitter. "She came back stronger, colder. And now you're digging, aren't you?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"You do." He stepped close enough for her to smell the faint trace of his cologne. "You think I don't know what you and your little lapdog are doing? This Rowen Cade—what is he, your new plaything?"
"You're shaking, Darian."
He blinked. "What?"
"You came here to rattle me, and yet your jaw is tense, your voice is unsteady." She leaned forward. "You're afraid."
Darian's hand twitched. For a brief second, his mask slipped—and behind it was panic.
"You know you're running out of time," she whispered. "Whatever you and Selene planned, whatever lies you wrapped —it's unraveling. Slowly. But when it collapses, you'll be the first to fall."
He took her wrist suddenly, firm, threatening. "Careful, Amara.
She didn't pull away.
And that broke him. For a second, he saw it in her eyes—not fear.
He released her.
Amara watched him walk out. She stood there for a long while after the door closed, her breathing calm despite the shaking in her bones.
Then she picked up her phone and called Rowen.
"Track his car. I want to know where he goes next."
---
Flashback – 14 Years Ago
Selene was twelve. Amara, ten.
They lay on the roof of their old home, side by side under the stars, their bare feet dangling over the ledge. It had been one of their favorite hiding spots—away from yelling parents, away from expectations.
"You'll be a queen someday," Selene had said, braiding Amara's hair. "Marry rich. Live in a castle."
"And you?"
Selene had paused. "I'll be there too. Maybe… I'll be the one who helps you run it. I'll keep the vultures away."
Back then, she meant it. At least she thought she did.
But as they grew, something shifted.
Amara got the attention—the compliments, the scholarships, the looks from older boys.
And Selene? She stayed in the shadows.
By the time they turned twenty, Selene had learned something painful:
Amara didn't need protecting.
She needed knocking down.
---
Back in the Present
Zane arrived home around dusk. The house was quiet, but the air was thick. He loosened his tie and headed straight to their bedroom, expecting Amara to be curled up with a book or her laptop.
Instead, he found her standing by the window, arms crossed, eyes focused far off.
He walked in slowly. "Amara."
She turned. "Hey."
"You alright?"
"Yes."
He stepped closer, sensing the tremor in her posture. "You're lying."
She looked up at him, her walls intact. "I had a visitor."
He paused. "Who?"
"Darian."
Zane's body locked. "What?"
"He came here. To test me, I let him talk."
"You what?"
"I needed to hear him lie to my face. And I needed to look into his eyes and know I was right to come back."
Zane's hands balled into fists, but he held his tongue.
"Amara... how did you know?" His voice cracked just slightly. "About them. Darian. Selene. How did you know to suspect them?"
She sat on the edge of the bed. "I didn't at first. I was blind. I loved him. Or thought I did. And I wanted to believe Selene was still the sister I remembered."
She looked up at him. I'm sorry I neglected you
"But people show you who they are when you're at your weakest.
Zane swallowed hard. "So why not tell me everything now?"
"Because the less you know, the safer you are. They won't touch me again, Zane. But if they even suspect you're involved…"
He knelt in front of her, cupping her face. "You are not doing this alone."
"I'm not alone," she whispered. "I have you. I just need you to trust me. A little longer.