The folder was heavier than it looked.
Not in weight — in the way it seemed to hum in her hands, a silent warning that whatever lay inside would change everything.
Aria opened it.
The first page was a photocopy of a contract, her father's signature scrawled across the bottom in bold ink. King Enterprises letterhead in the corner. Date: two months before his "sudden" heart attack.
Her eyes scanned the clauses, each one a twist of the knife. Transfer of assets. Liquidation of holdings. Clauses that bled Lane Industries dry and funneled the remains straight into Darius King's accounts.
"You stole everything," she said, voice low but shaking.
"I took what was already owed," Darius replied. "Your father made the deal. He knew the cost."
Her head snapped up. "You're lying."
"Read the rest."
The next pages were emails, bank statements, even photographs — her father at late-night meetings with men Aria didn't recognize. Cash transfers in amounts that made her dizzy. And at the bottom of one page, a grainy photo of her father sliding an envelope into Darius's hand.
She closed the folder. "Why are you showing me this?"
"Because I don't want a wife who walks in blind," he said. "I want someone who knows the stakes."
She almost laughed at the absurdity. "This is your idea of romance? Hand me the knife you used on my family and then propose?"
He leaned forward, elbows on the desk, his gaze locking with hers. "It's my idea of survival. You marry me, and I protect what's left of your family. You refuse…" His pause was deliberate, lethal. "And you'll watch the wolves finish the job."
Her pulse pounded in her ears. She wanted to throw the folder in his face, storm out, and slam the door so hard the glass cracked. But Celeste's face flashed in her mind — her sister's laughter, her wide-eyed dreams of medical school.
Darius was watching her too closely, as if reading every flicker of thought.
"You're a monster," she said finally.
"I've been called worse," he replied, the faintest edge of a smirk at his mouth.
Silence stretched, thick as smoke. Outside, the city glittered against the afternoon sky. Inside, Aria felt like the walls were closing in — but for a dangerous second, she noticed the way the light caught in his hair, the way his voice curled low when he spoke.
She hated herself for noticing.
He rose from his chair, coming around the desk. Not rushed. Not looming. Just deliberate enough that she had to tilt her chin to keep her eyes on his.
"One year," he said quietly. "And when it's over, you can walk away. Debt-free. Sister safe. No strings."
"And if I say no?"
He stepped past her to the elevator, pressing the button. "You won't."
The doors slid open. She stepped inside, her heartbeat a storm. Just before they closed, she caught him watching her — not like prey, but like a challenge he fully intended to win.