Aria's POV
"Damon," I whispered, clutching the edge of the marble counter. "They took her."
His head turned so sharply, it was like I'd slapped him. "What?"
"I—" My throat closed. I couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe.
My phone was still vibrating in my hand, the call log frozen on Unknown Number. A voice like ice water had slithered through the receiver, each word a poison-tipped needle.
"They have Lila," I finally choked out. "They said… they said if you don't resign, if you don't denounce me—publicly—they'll kill her."
The words sounded foreign in my mouth. Broken. Like they belonged to someone else's nightmare.
But they were mine.
Mine.
Damon's body stilled. The air changed. Even the faint hum of the penthouse systems seemed to pause. For a heartbeat, he didn't move, didn't breathe.
Then—he exploded into action.
He spun, barking into his earpiece. "Maya, secure every digital entry point into the Harper home. Scrape traffic cams, drones, satellites—anything with a lens.
