Chapter 9: Breach of Peace
The mansion felt different.
Not bigger.
Not colder.
Just… quieter.
When Aria stepped inside, two weeks after receiving that ivory piano key, the echo of her heels on the marble felt more like a heartbeat than a threat.
She hadn't informed Leon about her visit.
She didn't pack bags.
Didn't plan to stay.
She came for **closure**.
But the scent of the house—cedarwood, soft spices, a hint of the piano room—pulled at her in ways she couldn't ignore.
"Madam," the butler said, stunned at the sight of her, "Mr. Valen is not—"
"I know," Aria replied calmly. "I'm not here for him."
She walked past the surprised staff and headed straight into the piano room.
The seat was exactly where she'd left it.
The lid was half open.
And in the corner?
A small, black velvet box.
Her heart froze.
She picked it up and opened it—
A ring.
Not the one from their wedding.
This one had no diamonds.
Just a silver band with the words engraved inside:
> *"This time, no terms."*
She set it down.
Because this wasn't a proposal.
It was a promise.
And promises—Aria had learned—were worth little until tested.
Later that evening, she stepped onto the balcony of the master bedroom.
The air smelled like rain again.
Every big moment in their story had come with a storm.
Maybe this was another one.
Her phone buzzed.
A message from Irene.
> *"You're trending. Again. But not just your column this time."*
Aria frowned and clicked the link.
**BREAKING: "Ex-Fiancée of Leon Valen Alleges Emotional Sabotage and Slander — Files Lawsuit"**
A sharp jolt rushed through her.
**Lysandra.**
She was back.
And this time?
She wasn't aiming for headlines.
She was aiming for **war.**
The next morning, Leon arrived at the mansion in a sharp black suit—but when he saw Aria on the piano bench, his breath caught.
He looked like he hadn't slept.
She looked like she'd finally learned how to.
Their eyes met.
No words.
Just truth.
"You came," he said softly.
"I needed to feel who I was in this house."
"And did you?"
"I'm still learning."
He stepped closer. "You're safe here."
She looked up.
"Am I?" she asked. "Because it seems your past doesn't want to let go."
He stiffened. "You saw the article."
"I read the lawsuit."
Leon walked to the glass bar and poured a glass of water, avoiding her gaze.
"I haven't spoken to her in over a year."
"That doesn't mean she can't destroy you."
"No," he replied darkly. "But it means I'll fight harder."
"For yourself?" Aria asked. "Or for me?"
His gaze locked onto hers. "For **us.**"
Later that day, the legal team arrived.
Aria sat beside Leon, not as a prop this time—but as a woman who understood **contracts** better than anyone.
Because she had lived through one.
And barely made it out alive.
"The lawsuit claims that Mr. Valen emotionally manipulated Ms. Lysandra Grant during their engagement, leading to professional and personal damages. She's demanding a public apology and \$15 million in emotional distress damages."
Leon's jaw clenched. "She cheated on me."
"We know," said the lead attorney. "But proving emotional sabotage in court? Tricky. Especially with what the press already believes."
Aria spoke then, her voice firm. "She's portraying herself as the abandoned woman. The one whose place I took. The innocent."
Leon turned to her, shocked. "You're not going near that courtroom."
"You can't protect me by hiding me."
"I'm protecting you by keeping your name out of her mouth."
"She's already using my name, Leon."
He fell silent.
Because he knew she was right.
That night, Aria stood alone in the library, looking at the same photo of young Leon she'd once found.
So much had changed.
And yet, every story began here—with a boy who had lost his softness too soon.
She understood him now.
Not because he was broken.
But because he had *tried* to be whole again.
At midnight, Leon knocked gently on the door of her room—the guest room.
"Can I come in?"
She nodded.
He walked in, hesitant.
"You looked beautiful on the balcony this morning," he said. "The way you used to… when I didn't know how to speak."
She smiled faintly. "You still don't."
"Then I'll try to learn."
He handed her a folder.
Inside: **A new contract.**
But this one wasn't for marriage.
It was for **trust.**
No legally binding clauses.
No conditional love.
Just a blank page with two lines:
> *Clause 1: I will not run from my past.*
> *Clause 2: I will not let it ruin what I have now.*
Signed at the bottom: **Leon Valen.**
And underneath: a blank space.
For **her** to sign—only if she wanted to.
Tears blurred her eyes.
"This isn't how love is supposed to feel," she whispered.
"I know," he replied. "But it's how it starts when neither of us learned the right way."
They didn't kiss.
They didn't make promises.
But that night, she stayed in the master bedroom again.
Not as a wife by contract.
But as a woman who finally had **terms of her own.**
The next morning, Aria received a call from her attorney.
"She's adding a new demand."
Aria froze. "What?"
"She wants you on the stand."
"Why?"
"Because you're the symbol of her humiliation. She wants to drag you into her fire."
Aria felt her spine straighten.
"Then tell her I'll be there."
Leon's voice was ice when he heard.
"Absolutely not."
"You can't stop me."
"You're not going to be used as a pawn in her circus."
"She already thinks she owns the narrative, Leon. It's time I *rewrite* it."
Three days later, Aria walked into the courthouse in a simple navy dress.
No flashy jewelry.
No makeup to hide the fatigue beneath her eyes.
Only truth.
Lysandra sat across the room in designer heels, looking like a queen in exile.
Her lawyers smirked as Aria was called to the stand.
But Aria didn't flinch.
"Mrs. Valen," the lawyer began, "can you describe how your marriage began?"
"It began with silence," she said. "And secrets."
The courtroom leaned in.
"But eventually, it became a war between control and vulnerability. And I chose to fight for the second one."
"Is it true you replaced your sister as the bride?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because I thought I was saving my family."
"Do you regret it?"
"I regret believing that sacrifice had to mean suffering."
Lysandra shifted uncomfortably.
"And Mr. Valen's role in your suffering?"
Aria turned, looked at Leon—sitting there, watching her like she was the only person who existed.
"He was a man at war with his own heart," she said. "But he never stopped trying to find it again."
"And your thoughts on Ms. Grant's allegations?"
Aria didn't blink.
"Pain makes people rewrite their memories. But some stories aren't rewritten—they're weaponized. This is one of them."
The silence that followed was electric.
Even Lysandra's smirk faded.
When Aria stepped down from the stand, Leon stood.
He didn't care about appearances.
He took her hand.
Not to *own* her.
But to **thank** her.
For burning in front of the world—and not flinching.
To be continued.....