Aria's POV
The morning light had barely settled over the city skyline when I finally peeled myself away from the cold marble of Damien's kitchen. The photograph of Juliette lingered in my mind like a ghost I couldn't shake. That image — carefree, radiant, laughing without a care — felt like a betrayal. A reminder of the space I'd always occupied in their lives: the shadow, the "other" sister, the outsider.
I wrapped my hands around the mug in my grip, the warmth barely seeping through the porcelain to calm the storm inside me. Damien's words — quiet, tentative — still echoed. "She's still in every room of this house."
Every room. Every memory. Every secret I wasn't meant to see.
I wandered through the grand halls of the mansion, the silence almost oppressive. It wasn't just the kind of silence that fills a house when everyone else is asleep. No, this was a heavy, loaded quiet — the kind that's been waiting, waiting for something to break.
My footsteps carried me to the study, where Damien usually spent his mornings. The door was slightly ajar, and I hesitated before slipping inside. The room smelled like leather and cedarwood, with a faint hint of his cologne lingering in the air.
He looked up when I entered, eyes wary but soft. His expression was carefully neutral, but I saw the fatigue hidden beneath it.
"You didn't have to stay last night," I said, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.
He gave a small, tired smile. "Neither did you."
I bit back the retort, swallowing the lump in my throat.
There was a pause, thick and uncomfortable.
"I'm sorry about the photo," Damien finally said. "I should have told you about it sooner."
I shook my head. "It's not about the photo." My voice cracked slightly. "It's about everything it means. That you still live in a world where she's the center... and I'm just... on the edges."
Damien's jaw tightened. "You're not on the edges, Aria. You're... complicated. Like this family."
"Complicated doesn't feel like enough." My eyes burned, the weight of years pressing down. "I've always felt like I'm trying to fit into a puzzle that was never meant for me."
He reached out, hesitating before resting a hand on my arm. The contact was light but grounding.
"We all have cracks," he said softly. "Some bigger than others. But that doesn't mean we don't belong."
The words should have comforted me. But instead, they reminded me how fractured everything was.
---
Later that afternoon, I found myself standing in the garden. The air was warm, fragrant with blooming jasmine and roses — the very garden where Juliette had been captured in that photograph. I traced the delicate petals with my fingers, wondering how something so beautiful could hold so much pain.
My phone buzzed. A message from an unknown number:
"Meet me at the café on 5th Street. I have something you need to see. - C."
Callum. Of course.
A shiver ran down my spine. I'd known this day would come — the day when his shadow crept out of the corners and tried to drag me back into the war I never wanted to fight.
I stared at the screen for a long moment, debating whether to respond. But curiosity won. I typed back:
"Fine. One hour."
---
The café was small and tucked away, the kind of place where whispered conversations could easily go unnoticed. I arrived early, choosing a seat near the back where I could see the entrance and anyone who might approach.
Callum was already there when I arrived — casually leaning against the wall, a smug smile playing on his lips like he already had the upper hand.
"Aria," he greeted, voice smooth as silk but with an edge that made my skin crawl.
"What do you want, Callum?" I asked, keeping my tone even.
He shrugged, then pulled a slim envelope from his jacket pocket and slid it across the table.
"Consider it a gift. Or a warning."
I opened it slowly, my breath catching as I unfolded the papers inside. Photographs. Emails. Documents with the Thornewell crest stamped on them. Evidence — or at least what Callum wanted me to believe was evidence — of financial irregularities, of secrets kept buried deep beneath the surface.
He watched me carefully as I absorbed the information.
"This is just the beginning, Aria. You think you're safe now, but the Thornewell legacy is built on lies. And I'm going to prove it."
I clenched my fists, fighting the urge to lash out, to tell him he had no right. But deep down, I knew he did. Because this family — this legacy — was a battlefield. And I was caught in the crossfire.
---
Back in the quiet of my apartment that evening, I sat surrounded by the papers, piecing together a puzzle that felt impossible to solve. The edges blurred and shifted with every new revelation. Damien's family secrets. Callum's manipulations. Juliette's absence. And my own place in it all.
The phone rang, breaking the silence. I glanced at the screen. Damien.
"Hey," I answered, voice barely steady.
"Aria, I know you're dealing with a lot right now. But we need to talk — really talk."
I hesitated, then nodded even though he couldn't see it.
"Meet me at the old café where we used to go," he said quietly.
---
The café was almost deserted when I arrived, the dim lights casting long shadows across the worn wooden tables. Damien was already there, sitting with his elbows on the table, hands clasped tightly.
He looked up as I approached, his eyes holding a mixture of regret and something softer — hope.
"Thank you for coming," he said, voice low.
We talked for hours. Not about the scandalous documents, or the ghosts that haunted us, but about us. About the fractures between trust and betrayal, love and fear.
"I don't want to lose you," he said, voice breaking. "But I can't promise the past won't keep haunting us."
"Neither can I," I admitted. "But maybe... maybe we can find a way through it. Together."
---
As I walked home later that night, the city lights blurred through my tears. The fractures between us weren't healed — not yet. But for the first time, I felt the fragile stirrings of something stronger than fear.
I wasn't sure what tomorrow would bring. But I knew one thing for certain:
This story — our story — was far from over.