They left the house under cover of darkness.
Aria barely had time to throw clothes into a bag before Lucien was ushering her down a back staircase she hadn't known existed. The walls were concrete now, the air colder, heavier—this wasn't part of the mansion meant for comfort.
"Where are we going?" she asked, struggling to keep her voice steady.
"A safe property," Lucien replied, walking briskly. "Off the grid. No public records."
"Are you coming with me?"
He didn't answer right away.
That silence told her everything.
"You're not," she said.
Lucien stopped at the armored vehicle waiting below ground. He turned to face her, his expression composed—too composed.
"I'll join you later," he said. "Once things stabilize."
"That's not what you said upstairs," Aria shot back. "You said you'd draw their attention."
"That's my job."
"I'm not a chess piece," she snapped. "You don't get to move me and sacrifice yourself like it won't affect me."
Lucien's gaze hardened. "Emotion is a liability right now."
"And lying isn't?"
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "Everything I'm doing is to keep you alive."
"Then stop deciding what I can handle."
For a moment, it looked like he might argue.
Instead, he reached into his jacket and handed her a folded document.
"What's this?" she asked.
"Updated terms," he said.
Her chest tightened. "You're revising the contract?"
"Yes."
She unfolded the paper with shaking hands.
Temporary separation.
No contact unless initiated by Lucien Blackwood.
Public narrative: marital strain.
Her vision blurred.
"You're erasing me," she whispered.
"I'm protecting you."
"No," she said. "You're pushing me away because you're scared."
Lucien's jaw clenched. "Get in the car, Aria."
The use of her name—sharp, final—ended the argument.
She climbed inside without another word.
As the vehicle pulled away, she looked back once.
Lucien stood in the shadows, watching her leave.
He didn't wave.
The safe house was modern, clean, and eerily quiet.
Aria was escorted inside by security she didn't recognize. Every window was reinforced. Every entrance monitored. It was secure—but it didn't feel safe.
It felt like exile.
Her phone buzzed the moment the door closed behind her.
Lucien:
You'll stay here until I say otherwise.
She stared at the message, anger and fear tangling together.
Aria:
You don't get to cut me off.
Three dots appeared. Then vanished.
No reply.
She sank onto the couch, wrapping her arms around herself. The adrenaline from the attack had faded, leaving behind exhaustion and a deep, aching loneliness.
He had shielded her with his body.
And now he was hiding her from his life.
Hours passed with no word.
Aria paced, restless. Every creak of the building made her tense. She replayed the gunshot again and again, the way Lucien had reacted without thinking—how instinctive it had been.
That wasn't contractual obligation.
That was something else.
Her phone buzzed again.
Not Lucien.
Unknown Number:
You see how easily he abandons you.
Her blood ran cold.
Unknown Number:
He's done this before.
Aria's fingers hovered over the screen.
Done what? she typed—then deleted it.
She remembered Lucien's warning.
No contact.
Still, the words gnawed at her.
Her phone rang suddenly.
She jumped.
Lucien's name flashed on the screen.
She answered immediately. "You don't get to disappear like that."
"I needed distance," he said.
"From me—or from your feelings?"
Silence.
That was answer enough.
"Tell me the truth," Aria said softly. "Is this separation real?"
"It needs to be," he replied. "At least publicly."
"And privately?"
A pause. Longer this time.
"Privately," Lucien said, "it's a lie."
Her chest tightened painfully.
"Why are you doing this?" she whispered.
"Because the closer you are to me, the closer you are to danger."
"I was already in danger before I met you," she said. "You said so yourself."
"Yes," he admitted. "But now they can use you to break me."
"You think pushing me away will stop that?"
"It already has," he said. "They believe you're disposable to me."
Aria's voice cracked. "Am I?"
"No," Lucien said instantly. Too fast. Too raw. "You're the opposite."
She closed her eyes.
"Then stop lying to me."
"I can't," he said. "Not yet."
After the call ended, Aria sat in silence, absorbing the truth hidden beneath his words.
This separation wasn't for her.
It was for him.
He was trying to sever the emotional leverage she held over his enemies—even if it meant hurting her in the process.
Her phone buzzed again.
Unknown Number:
He told you it was for your safety. That's what he told her too.
Her stomach dropped.
Aria:
Who is "her"?
The reply came almost instantly.
Unknown Number:
The woman who died.
The room felt suddenly too small.
Her pulse thundered as she typed.
Aria:
What accident?
Three dots appeared.
Then—
Unknown Number:
Ask him why her blood was on his hands.
A knock sounded at the door.
Aria jumped, heart racing.
One of the guards stood outside. "Ma'am, we've received instructions."
"From who?"
"Mr. Blackwood."
She exhaled in relief. "What now?"
"You're not to use your phone for the rest of the night."
Fear surged.
"What?"
"It's for your protection."
The door closed before she could argue.
Her phone screen went dark.
Miles away, Lucien stood alone in his office, city lights glittering behind him.
His phone vibrated.
A single message from a number he hadn't seen in years.
You're repeating history.
His grip tightened.
He remembered the blood.
The sirens.
The woman who had trusted him—and paid the price.
Lucien stared at the screen, jaw clenched.
"I won't let it happen again," he murmured.
Even if it meant lying.
Even if it meant losing Aria.
Back in the safe house, Aria lay awake, staring into the darkness.
Lucien thought distance would protect them.
But the truth was already closing in.
And the lie between them was growing sharper—
Enough to cut them both.