Silence swallowed the room.
Aria didn't breathe.
Couldn't.
The words she was a witness struck her like a physical blow, cracking open a truth she wasn't prepared for.
Caspian watched her with an expression she'd never seen on him before—haunted, conflicted, almost… afraid.
Afraid of her reaction.
Afraid of losing her.
Afraid of the past he was about to drag into the light.
"Sit," he said softly.
His voice wasn't the commanding CEO tone she knew. It was low. Careful. Like he was handling something breakable.
But Aria shook her head. "No. Tell me."
Caspian exhaled, jaw tight. "Fine."
He walked to the window, the city lights reflecting off his sharp profile as if painting him in shards of silver and shadow.
"My sister, Isabella… she was killed when she was nineteen."
Aria felt a pang of sorrow. "I'm sorry."
Caspian closed his eyes briefly. "She wasn't just killed. She was erased."
Aria's breath caught.
He turned to her. "The official story was a car accident. A hit-and-run. But that was a lie. Isabella was murdered. Someone lured her out of a charity event, drugged her, and staged the crash."
Aria's stomach twisted. "That's horrible."
"It was a message," Caspian said darkly. "To my father. To our entire family."
Aria rubbed her arms, suddenly cold. "And my mother…"
Caspian nodded once. Slowly. "She was the only person who saw Isabella alive after she left that event."
Aria froze. "My mother? But she never—"
"She couldn't," Caspian said quietly. "Because if she had… she would've died."
Aria's knees weakened. "I—I don't understand."
Caspian stepped closer. "Your mother was the nurse assigned to the off-site medical tent at the charity event. She saw Isabella being carried out by two men who were not security. She asked questions. She tried to help. She got too close."
Aria's pulse pounded painfully hard.
"My mother would've helped anyone in danger. She was like that."
"I know," Caspian said gently. "She was brave. Too brave."
A crack formed in his voice.
"She called emergency dispatch—gave a vague report about a girl being taken away. That call was flagged. Someone realized she saw something she shouldn't have. From the moment she dialed, she was marked."
Aria felt her heart shatter. "Marked for what?"
Caspian's expression hardened. "Silence."
The room spun.
Caspian moved instinctively, catching her elbow, steadying her. His touch was warm, grounding, but Aria felt like she might fall apart.
"You're saying… my mother died because of what she saw?"
Caspian hesitated.
That hesitation was an answer.
Aria's voice trembled. "Tell me the truth."
He lifted her chin gently, forcing her eyes to meet his.
"The car accident that killed her… wasn't an accident."
Her breath broke. "No. No, Caspian—my mother's brakes failed. It was a mechanical issue. They told us—"
"They lied," he said softly. "To protect you. And maybe to protect themselves."
Aria covered her mouth with her hand, choking on air.
"The call she made was traced to a burner phone found near a Vitalli warehouse," Caspian continued. "We didn't know her name—she used a code ID on the report. It wasn't until the ER… until you… that the pieces lined up."
Aria looked at him, eyes wide with disbelief and devastation.
"And you didn't tell me?"
"I was trying to confirm before ripping your world apart," he said hoarsely. "I didn't want to weaponize the truth. I wanted proof."
Tears filled Aria's eyes—not weak tears, but hot, furious, betrayed ones.
"My mother died trying to save your sister," she whispered.
"She died because someone wanted to bury what happened," Caspian corrected. "Which makes you a threat now—whether you know anything or not."
A heavy silence stretched between them, thick and raw.
Aria wiped her face. "So that's why someone grabbed me in the ER. That's why the Camorra and the Vitalli want me."
"Yes," Caspian said. "Because they think you inherited something you didn't even know existed."
Aria's brow furrowed. "Inherit what?"
Caspian looked at her with something like dread.
"Your mother didn't just witness something," he said. "We think she hid something."
Aria stared. "Hid what?"
"A file," Caspian said. "A black file. The kind that could bring down entire families."
Aria's breath hitched.
"The Black File…?"
Caspian nodded. "Someone believes you have it—or can find it. And they will kill you for it."
Aria pressed a shaking hand to her chest. "I—I don't know anything about a file."
"I know," Caspian said gently. "But they don't believe that."
He stepped closer, his voice low, fierce, protective.
"Which is why you're staying with me. And why I will protect you with everything I have. Because you were never supposed to be dragged into this. And because your mother's death… wasn't your ending."
He brushed a tear from her cheek—slowly, tenderly.
"It's your beginning."
Aria looked up at him, shattered and rebuilding all at once.
"I don't know who I'm supposed to be in all this," she whispered.
Caspian's thumb stroked her cheekbone.
"You're the woman who might hold the key to everything," he said.
"And the one person I can't afford to lose."