Aria's POV
I stand outside my own penthouse with the key in my hand, heart pounding.
The mystery messenger's words burn in my mind: "Check your husband's desk drawer. The locked one."
I shouldn't be here. I should be at Maya's apartment, packing my things, calling the lawyer back. But I need to know. After that video of Dominic kissing Celeste, after five years of secrets and lies, I need to see what else he's been hiding.
The penthouse is dark when I walk in. Good. Dominic's still at work. I have time.
I move quickly through the living room to his office. My hands shake as I kneel beside his nightstand—wait, why is his nightstand in his office? I look around and realize: he moved furniture in here. He's been sleeping in his office.
How did I not notice?
Oh right. Because I sleep in the guest room. We're married people who haven't shared a bed in eight months.
I find the key taped exactly where the message said it would be. Someone knows this house. Someone knows Dominic's secrets. But who?
The desk drawer is locked with a small silver lock. I slide the key in. It clicks.
My hands hover over the handle. Once I open this, I can't un-see whatever's inside. Do I really want to know?
Yes. I do.
I pull the drawer open.
At first, I don't understand what I'm looking at. Papers. Photos. Letters. Then my eyes focus and my heart stops.
Photos of Celeste. Dozens of them. Celeste at college. Celeste at her concerts. Celeste in Paris. Some are printed from social media—I can see the Instagram borders. He's been following her. Watching her. All these years.
Underneath the photos are letters. I pick one up with shaking hands. The handwriting is Celeste's:
"Dom, Paris is beautiful but empty without you. I think about you every day. Did I make a mistake leaving? Love, C."
The date is from three years ago. Three years into our marriage, and my sister was writing love letters to my husband.
I grab another letter. Then another. Years of correspondence. Celeste telling him about her life. Dominic responding—I find his drafts, saved like precious treasures. Both of them dancing around the truth: they still had feelings for each other.
While I was home alone, making his dinner, organizing his life, he was writing letters to my sister.
At the bottom of the drawer is a plane ticket. Paris. Dated two years ago. Unused.
He was going to visit her. He bought a ticket. He was actually going to—
"What are you doing?"
I jump and spin around. Dominic stands in the office doorway, his face white.
"I—" My voice cracks. I hold up the photos. "What is all this?"
He stares at the open drawer like it's a bomb about to explode. "Aria, I can explain—"
"Explain?" I laugh, and it sounds hysterical. "Explain what? That you've been in love with my sister our entire marriage? That you've been writing to her? That you were going to visit her in Paris?"
"I didn't go—"
"But you wanted to!" I throw the photos at him. They scatter across the floor like fallen leaves. "You bought the ticket! You were going to leave me!"
"I didn't leave! I stayed!" Dominic's voice rises. "I chose to stay with you!"
"Oh, how noble!" Tears pour down my face. "You stayed with the wife you never wanted while dreaming about the woman you actually loved! Should I thank you for that?"
"It wasn't like that—"
"Then what was it like, Dominic? Tell me!" I grab the letters. "Tell me why you saved three years of love letters from my sister! Tell me why you have dozens of photos of her! Tell me why you've been living in a fantasy while I've been trying to build a real marriage!"
He opens his mouth. Closes it. He has no answer.
Because there is no good answer.
"I'm taking all of this," I say, scooping everything into my bag. "Evidence for the divorce."
"Aria, wait—" He moves toward me but I back away.
"Don't touch me. Don't ever touch me again."
"Please, just listen—"
"I'm done listening!" My voice echoes off the walls. "I'm done waiting! I'm done hoping! I'm done with all of it!"
I push past him and run for the door. Behind me, I hear him calling my name, but I don't stop. I can't stop. If I stop, I might break completely.
I make it to the elevator before I remember—my wedding ring. I left it in my bag. I pull it out and stare at it. This tiny circle of gold that was supposed to mean forever.
The elevator dings. The doors open. And there she is.
Celeste.
Standing in my elevator, in my building, coming up to my home. She's beautiful, as always. Perfect hair, perfect makeup, perfect smile. The smile fades when she sees my face.
"Aria? Are you okay? You look—"
I don't think. I just react. I grab her hand and slap my wedding ring into her palm.
"You win," I say. "You can have him. You can have everything. I'm done."
Celeste stares at the ring in her hand, confused. "What are you talking about?"
"Don't pretend you don't know!" My voice is shaking. "The letters. The photos. The video this morning. I know everything, Celeste. I know you never stopped loving him. And I know he never stopped loving you."
Her face goes pale. "The letters? How did you—"
So she knows about them. Of course she does.
"Did you ever feel guilty?" I ask. "Even a little bit? I'm your sister. I married him. And you spent three years writing him love letters?"
"Aria, it wasn't—we never actually—"
"I don't care!" I step into the elevator, forcing her to step back. "I don't care if you kissed or slept together or just wrote pretty words. You both betrayed me. You both chose each other over me. So congratulations. You can have your happy ending. I'm leaving."
The elevator doors start to close. Celeste puts her hand out to stop them.
"Wait! Aria, there's something you don't understand—"
"The only thing I understand is that I wasted five years on a man who was never really mine." The doors close, cutting off whatever Celeste was about to say.
I make it to the lobby before my phone buzzes. Another message from the unknown number:
"Good job getting the evidence. But that's not the biggest secret in that drawer. Did you check the very back? Behind the false bottom? No? You might want to go back. What's hidden there changes everything."
False bottom? I didn't see a false bottom.
My finger hovers over the lobby button. I should leave. I should run away and never come back.
But what if there's more? What if there's something even worse hidden in that drawer?
I press the button for the penthouse floor. The elevator starts going up.
I'm probably making a mistake. But I've made so many mistakes already. What's one more?
When the doors open, I expect to see Celeste. Instead, the hallway is empty. I hear voices from inside the penthouse—Dominic and Celeste, talking in urgent whispers.
I move quietly to the door and listen.
"—can't tell her now!" Celeste sounds panicked. "She'll never forgive either of us!"
"She already doesn't forgive us," Dominic says. His voice is broken. "She found the letters. The photos. Everything."
"But not the real secret. Dom, if she finds out about—"
"She won't. I destroyed all the evidence except—" He stops. "The photo. The one from the hospital. Did I put it in that drawer?"
Hospital? What hospital?
My hand pushes the door open. They both freeze when they see me.
"What hospital?" I ask quietly. "What photo?"
Dominic and Celeste look at each other. Something passes between them. Something that makes my blood run cold.
"Aria," Dominic says slowly. "How much did you hear?"
"Enough. What hospital? What photo? What secret?"
Celeste steps forward. "Little sister, maybe you should sit down—"
"I'm not sitting down! I'm not your little sister anymore! Just tell me the truth for once in your lives!"
The silence stretches. Finally, Dominic speaks:
"The baby. The one you miscarried five years ago. The one we lost." He swallows hard. "I lied about something."
The world tilts sideways.
"What did you lie about?" My voice doesn't sound like mine.
"There were complications. You almost died. And I..." He can't look at me. "I told the doctors to save you, not the baby. I chose. I chose to let our child die to save you."
I can't breathe. Can't think.
"But that's not the secret," Celeste whispers. "The secret is why he made that choice. Tell her, Dom. Tell her the real reason."
Dominic looks up, and his eyes are full of tears.
"Because the baby might not have been mine."