CHAPTER NINETEEN: SHATTERED ASSUMPTIONS
Aria didn't realize how quiet the apartment had become until she heard the sharp click of the front door—Damien entering with a voice tight enough to slice through the silence.
"Aria," he called, low and controlled, "we need to talk."
Her breath stalled in her chest.
She knew that tone.
Knew it far too well.
Damien stepped into the living room, holding a folder in his hand—a thin, cream-colored folder that did not belong to her home.
Her pulse quickened.
"What is that?"
He didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he dropped the folder onto the coffee table.
It slid open.
Photographs spilled out.
Aria felt the blood drain from her face.
They weren't pictures of her.
Not of Eli.
Not of Damien.
They were photographs of three different men—and all of them were standing near her apartment building. Some leaning against cars. Some talking on the phone. Some watching the entrance like hunters studying prey.
Aria's chest grew tight.
"What… what is this?"
"You tell me," Damien said quietly, dangerously calm.
"I—I don't know these people." Her voice shook. "Damien, I have never seen them before."
"That's what worries me." He picked up one picture and held it out.
"I had someone check the security feeds. These men were here on three different days. All watching the building. All watching your floor."
A cold chill crawled down her spine.
"No," she whispered. "This can't be what you think. I don't know them."
"I believe you."
His voice softened—but it didn't lose its edge.
"I need you to tell me everything, Aria. Anything strange that's happened. Anything out of the ordinary. Anything you haven't told me."
Her heart pounded faster.
A memory flickered.
The car parked across from the school last week.
The one she thought was just waiting for someone.
Eli had tugged her hand and said, "Mommy, that man is staring at us."
And she had brushed it off, assuming it was nothing, assuming she was being paranoid.
Aria swallowed hard.
"There was… a car," she whispered.
"Outside Eli's school. It was parked too long. And someone inside… he stared at us."
Damien's jaw tightened.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"You were already dealing with so much," she said weakly.
"I didn't want to overreact."
He stepped closer—close enough that she felt the rise and fall of his breath.
"This is not overreacting," he said sharply.
"This is danger."
Her knees weakened.
She backed into the sofa and sat down because her legs didn't feel stable anymore.
Damien didn't sit.
He stood in front of her like a barrier, tall and tense, hands curled into fists.
"Aria, listen to me," he said, voice low and firm.
"Someone is watching you. Watching Eli."
The words hit her like a physical blow.
"No…" she whispered. "Why would anyone—"
"That's what I intend to find out."
She buried her face in her hands, her entire body trembling.
Fear.
Real, palpable fear wrapped around her like a vise.
Damien crouched in front of her, gently pulling her hands down so he could see her eyes.
"I'm not letting anything happen to you," he said softly, fiercely.
"Or to him."
Her voice was barely audible.
"Do you know who they are?"
"No," Damien said.
"But I know someone who will find out."
Aria blinked.
"Someone?"
"My head of security," he replied.
"And my private investigator."
"You hired—"
"I'm not playing games with your safety," Damien cut in.
Not harshly.
Not cruelly.
Just honest.
"You and Eli are my responsibility. And if someone is watching you, then someone is watching my son."
Aria's breath caught.
The protectiveness in his voice—raw, fierce, instinctive—made her chest tighten painfully.
"So what do we do?" she whispered.
Damien took her hands in his, steadying her trembling fingers.
"First," he said, "you're not staying here."
Her eyes widened.
"What? Damien—"
"It's not safe."
His tone brooked no argument.
"You're packing bags. You and Eli are coming with me."
Her heartbeat stuttered.
To his house?
To his world?
Under his roof?
"Damien, that's too much—"
"It's not," he said firmly.
"It's necessary."
Her lips parted, but no words came.
Damien reached up and gently brushed a tear from her cheek she hadn't realized had fallen.
"You're not alone in this," he murmured.
"And you never will be again."
Aria closed her eyes.
Fear and relief warred inside her.
Finally, she whispered:
"Okay."
Damien released a breath he'd been holding.
"Good," he said softly.
"Because I'm not losing you."
His voice dropped lower, rougher, more vulnerable:
"Either of you."