Chapter 12: The Crown They Never Wanted Her to Hold
Summary: Someone leaks the existence of the succession clause hidden in Aria's contract to the Ryuu board. What was once a symbol of obedience is now a threat. Aria is pulled into private meetings, whispered alliances, and dangerous offers. And through it all, one question begins to haunt her: what if the only way to protect Kade… is to take power from him?
The call came just after dawn.
Not from Kade.
From Mrs. Liyan—the board's longest-sitting member and arguably its sharpest blade.
"Miss Linh. We'd appreciate a word. Just you."
The meeting wasn't at Ryuu Global headquarters. It was off-site—discreet, sterile, high-floor in an unmarked building Aria didn't recognize. The kind of place designed for conversations no one was supposed to admit having.
When she arrived, three board members were already seated.
Mrs. Liyan.
Dorian Meihn—media strategist and opportunist.
And Saul Tei—the most politically cautious man in the entire empire.
The room was quiet. The blinds drawn.
"Sit," Liyan said, not unkindly.
Aria sat.
Dorian was the first to speak. "We know about the clause."
No preamble.
No small talk.
Aria didn't flinch. "Then you know I didn't put it there."
Saul leaned forward. "That doesn't matter. What matters is this: you're legally positioned to take Kade's place should he step down, be voted out, or—"
"Die?" Aria said flatly.
Silence.
Then Liyan offered a tight smile. "Let's not pretend we deal in sentiment here."
Aria folded her hands in her lap.
"And what do you want from me?"
"To prepare," Liyan said. "We've spent years navigating Kade's volatility. He's brilliant. He's lethal. But he's not invincible. And more importantly—he's losing grip."
"Is he?" Aria asked, a touch too coldly.
"He gave you power," Saul said. "That's not control. That's a warning."
Dorian interjected: "We don't want a coup. We want a fallback. And we want to know if you're willing to be it."
She stared at them.
Three suits. Three masks. Three vultures.
And yet…
The offer wasn't cruel.
It was logical.
Efficient.
Terrifyingly sincere.
"If I say yes," she asked, "do I betray him?"
"If you say yes," Liyan said, "you outlast him."
When Aria left the meeting, her phone buzzed.
A message from Kade.
"Don't lie to me. You met them without me."
She stared at the screen.
And for the first time, her reply wasn't immediate.
Because now… she wasn't just married to a king.
She was being asked to replace one.
The penthouse was too quiet when Aria returned.
No staff.
No noise.
Just Kade.
Standing near the floor-to-ceiling windows, facing the city like it owed him an apology.
He didn't turn when she walked in.
But he spoke.
"You met with Liyan, Tei, and Dorian."
It wasn't a question.
Aria stood near the door, coat still on.
"You already knew."
"I knew the moment they didn't copy me on their own calendar invites."
She waited.
He turned slowly, voice low and tight.
"I gave you that clause to protect you, Aria. Not to replace me."
"I didn't ask for it," she said.
"No. But you walked into that meeting."
"I walked into that meeting because they asked me to. Because you didn't warn me what you buried in that safe."
His hands curled into fists.
"I didn't want you to carry the weight of my enemies."
"But now I'm carrying your crown," she said, stepping forward. "Don't pretend this wasn't strategic."
"It was," he said. "Until it wasn't."
They stood facing each other, inches apart.
No anger.
Just exhaustion.
Kade's voice dropped, so low it nearly cracked.
"I've been betrayed before. Used. Sold out."
Aria's throat tightened.
He looked at her—no mask, no façade.
So human it hurt.
"So let me ask you," he said softly. "If it came to it… would you take it from me?"
Silence.
No echo in the room. No spinning world. Just that one moment.
Aria didn't rush her answer.
She walked to him slowly, met his gaze, and said:
"If you forced me to—yes."
Then softer:
"But I'd rather build something with you than take something from you."
His breath hitched. Barely.
And in that silence, trust began to form—not from agreement, but honesty.
Fragile.
Sharp-edged.
Real.