The message burned in Ariana's mind all night
She's back in Milan. Your real wife.
Those five words felt like a knife twisting deeper with every second.
She paced her bedroom, heart pounding, replaying Aria's last desperate call in her head.
"I need you to take my place for a few weeks. Someone will die if you don't."
But now Aria was back?
Why hadn't she contacted her again?
And worse if Alexander found her first, the truth would destroy everything.
Morning came gray and tense. Rain washed over Venice, tapping against the villa's windows like restless fingers.
Ariana stood by the window, watching Alexander's reflection appear behind her.
"You didn't sleep," he said quietly.
"Neither did you," she replied.
He didn't deny it. Instead, he poured himself coffee, his movements sharp and mechanical.
"I'll be traveling to Milan for a few days," he said flatly.
Her breath caught. "Milan?"
He finally looked up, his gaze slicing through her calm mask. "Yes. There are matters to attend to."
He knows, she thought. He's going after her.
"Anything I should know?" she asked carefully.
"Not unless you've started running from your own shadows," he said coldly, grabbing his coat.
Their eyes met for a moment a storm trapped between them before he turned and walked out, the front door echoing shut like a verdict.
Ariana's phone buzzed minutes later.
Unknown number.
She hesitated before answering.
"Ari?" The voice was low, urgent. "It's Chioma."
Her chest eased slightly. Her best friend the only person who knew the truth.
"Chioma, thank God. I don't know what to do. Aria might be back"
"I already know. I saw her."
Ariana froze. "You what? Where?"
"In Milan. She came to a boutique yesterday same face, same voice, but she looked… different. Scared. She was asking about you."
"Did she say why she disappeared?"
"No. But she said one thing before she left."
Chioma's voice dropped lower.
"She said, 'Tell my sister not to trust the Volkovs.'"
Ariana's blood ran cold.
By evening, the storm had passed, leaving the city soaked and silent.
Ariana couldn't sit still.
She needed answers.
She found herself drawn back to Alexander's forbidden study, the room that seemed to hum with secrets.
This time, she opened the locked drawer using the silver key she'd seen days before.
Inside were two passports.
One belonged to Aria Cruz.
The other to Ariana Cruz.
Her photo. Her name.
Stamped with a Volkov security seal.
"What" she whispered. "Why does he have my passport?"
Then her gaze fell on the second document beneath a marriage contract.
Her hand trembled as she read it.
Clause after clause tied Aria Cruz to Volkov International's merger with the Romano Group worth billions.
The marriage wasn't love. It was leverage.
And if the contract failed, both parties would face financial ruin or worse.
The realization hit her like lightning.
Aria hadn't run because of love or fear.
She'd run because someone wanted her dead.
The door creaked behind her.
She turned heart leaping.
Alexander stood there, rain dripping from his coat, his eyes darker than she'd ever seen.
"You shouldn't have touched that," he said, voice low, dangerous.
Ariana's breath caught. "You knew."
He stepped closer, his presence magnetic and suffocating all at once. "Knew what?"
"That I'm not her."
Silence.
His eyes flickered not surprise, but confirmation.
Then he whispered, almost to himself,
"I was wondering how long you'd keep pretending."