Bound by One Night

Aria barely slept. When dawn's gray light filtered through her curtains, she gave up on rest and rose with a weary sigh. All night, her mind looped through worst-case scenarios—what Victor might do, how she would handle their meeting tonight. To keep Damien from growing more suspicious, she steeled herself to stick to a normal routine.

By the time she headed downstairs, she'd dressed in a simple ivory blouse and soft gray pants, attempting to look composed even as anxiety buzzed under her skin. In the dining room, she found Damien already at the breakfast table with a mug of coffee and a tablet in hand. Noah sat in a booster seat next to him, happily spooning cereal into his mouth and babbling about a dream involving a rainbow-colored fish.

"Good morning," Aria greeted, mustering brightness as she bent to kiss the top of Noah's head. "And what's my little guy talking about so excitedly?"

"Mama! I was telling Daddy 'bout the big rainbow fish in my dream," Noah explained, milk dribbling down his chin.

"A rainbow fish? That sounds amazing," Aria said, wiping his chin gently with a napkin.

Damien's eyes were on her. "Morning," he said softly. His gaze searched her face, as if gauging how she was feeling after last night. Aria poured herself a cup of tea, trying to appear calm. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Damien subtly angle his tablet away, but not before she glimpsed what looked like an entertainment news site on the screen.

Her pulse ticked up. "What are you reading?" she asked lightly, trying to peer around the tablet. "Anything interesting?"

Damien hesitated a fraction too long. "Just the financial news," he replied, but his tone was too bland. Aria's stomach clenched; he was hiding it from her. That could only mean one thing—he'd seen something about her.

She forced her hand to remain steady as she lifted her teacup. "Anything I should know about?"

"No. It's nothing important," Damien said, offering a tight half-smile. He tapped the screen and flipped it face-down on the table, then turned to Noah, asking about the cartoon on the little boy's T-shirt.

Aria's tea scalded her tongue; she'd forgotten to add sugar. Across the table, Damien was clearly pretending everything was normal, but tension radiated from him. He had definitely seen something.

A heavy weight settled in her stomach. Perhaps a gossip column had picked up on last night's incident. Aria swallowed against rising dread and unfolded a napkin in her lap, trying to appear calm for Noah's sake.

She managed a few bites of toast while listening to Noah chatter, but her appetite was gone. After breakfast, the housekeeper arrived to take Noah to preschool. Aria hugged her son goodbye at the door, watching until the car disappeared down the drive.

The moment they were alone, Damien spoke. "Aria." Her name, low and serious, stopped her as she turned from the door.

Heart thudding, she faced him. He stood a few paces away in the marble foyer, hands in his pockets. Morning light from the windows cut across his chiseled features, highlighting the worry etched there. "Are you sure you're alright? You didn't eat much. And last night..." He trailed off, then added quietly, "I saw something in the news this morning. Gossip pages, actually."

There it is. Aria's stomach dropped. "Oh?"

Damien's jaw tensed. "They were speculating about you. One piece mentioned the name Lancaster. Asking if you're related to Gerald Lancaster who ran Langford Industries."

Aria felt the blood drain from her face. Langford Industries—her father's company. It was known in certain business circles. That someone had connected her maiden name to it so quickly made her lightheaded.

"I... I see," she managed, clasping her hands together so he wouldn't notice them shaking.

Damien stepped closer, concern and frustration mingling on his face. "I told them nothing at the engagement party because I honestly didn't have much to tell. You've been very private about your family, and I respected that. But now these rumors—"

"What exactly did the article say?" Aria cut in quietly.

He studied her a moment, then sighed. "It implied you might be the daughter of Gerald Lancaster. That you left that life abruptly a few years ago. They're digging for details, Aria. They mentioned a... scandal of some sort in your hometown but said records are scarce." He ran a hand through his hair, clearly agitated. "I didn't even know your father's name before this."

Aria's heart crumpled. Gerald Lancaster. She hadn't spoken that name in years, had tried to excise it from her life. Now it was surfacing for Damien to see, framed as a mystery and a scandal.

Her silence spoke volumes, because Damien's voice gentled. "I'm not angry. I'm worried. If there's something in your past being dragged into the open... I need to know, Aria. I can help if I understand what's happening."

He reached out as if to touch her arm, but Aria instinctively stepped back. Panic flared hot in her chest. This was too soon—the world was closing in faster than she expected. Victor's threats were materializing in real time.

"I—It's nothing that needs your attention," she said, hating how brittle her voice sounded. "They're just gossip sites, Damien. They speculate about everyone. It'll blow over."

Damien's eyes hardened with determination. "I don't believe that. If someone is digging into your past and it upsets you this much, it's not 'nothing.'"

A flash of irritation sparked through her fear. He was right, of course—everything was far from nothing—but she couldn't let him bulldoze his way in. Not when she was hours away from hopefully shutting this down on her own terms. "Damien, please," she said, wrapping her arms around herself. "I appreciate you care, but some things... they're personal. I never wanted my family history to complicate our arrangement."

"Personal," he echoed, a trace of hurt flickering in his eyes. "Aria, we might have started as an arrangement, but this is our real life now. Noah's involved. I'm involved. Don't you trust me at all?"

The question hung in the air, sharp and aching. Aria felt it like a knife. Her throat tightened. "This isn't about trust," she whispered.

"No? Then what?" Damien pressed, stepping closer. "I'm your husband—maybe not in the traditional way, but we're supposed to face things together, or at least communicate. If you're in some kind of trouble—"

"I can handle it," Aria snapped, her frazzled nerves finally fraying. Damien stopped short, surprise and frustration etched on his face. Aria swallowed hard, lowering her voice. "I'm sorry. I just... I need to deal with this myself. It's from before I met you, and it's my responsibility."

Damien's expression shuttered. "I see."

An awkward, painful silence fell. Aria could hear the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall, counting out the seconds she was losing. She had to end this conversation before she broke down entirely.

"I think I'll work from home today," she said quietly. "Maybe go through some design sketches to clear my head."

Damien nodded once, curtly. "Of course. Take whatever time you need."

He turned and walked away, his usually proud posture weighted by unspoken disappointment. Aria watched him go, her heart constricting. She hated this—pushing him away, seeing the hurt in his eyes. But what choice did she have? If she told him everything now, he would never let her face Victor alone, and he could get caught in the crossfire. She wouldn't risk that.

As the day dragged on, Aria holed up in the small sunroom she'd converted into an art nook, pretending to busy herself with design sketches. In reality, she spent more time staring blankly at the paper or checking her phone for any new messages from Victor. None came. The silence was its own form of torture.

She could feel the fracture that morning's conversation had left between her and Damien. He kept his distance, burying himself in work calls in his home office. They didn't speak over lunch, and by mid-afternoon Damien had left for an unscheduled meeting at the office, saying he'd be back late. The polite, distant tone of his voice stung more than Aria wanted to admit.

Good, she told herself, trying to ignore the ache in her chest. If he's occupied, he won't notice when I leave tonight.

As dusk fell, Aria's nerves spiked with every hour that brought her closer to 9 PM. She changed into a simple black cardigan and jeans—practical clothes for the docks—and slipped on a lightweight jacket. From her closet, she retrieved a small canister of pepper spray and tucked it into her pocket with trembling fingers. Her phone was fully charged; she had Damien's number on speed dial, though she prayed she wouldn't have to use it.

Her reflection in the vanity mirror caught her eye. She barely recognized herself—pale face, eyes shadowed with worry, a determined set to her mouth. "You can do this," she whispered to the anxious stranger in the mirror. "For Noah. For your family."

It was just past 8:30 PM when Aria finally mustered the courage to slip out. The mansion was quiet. Damien hadn't returned, which was both a relief and a source of guilt. She scribbled a quick note and left it on her nightstand—an apology and a vague promise to explain everything soon. If something went wrong tonight... at least there'd be that.

Aria made her way down the back staircase and out through a side door, pulling up the hood of her jacket. The autumn night carried a chill, the scent of the Hudson River wafting faintly from the harbor. She'd arranged for a rideshare car rather than using the driver—no need to rouse anyone's curiosity.

As she walked toward the gate to meet the driver, her heart thumped wildly. Every instinct screamed this was dangerous, that she should have backup or a better plan than pepper spray and desperation. But it was far more dangerous to involve Damien. If Victor even caught a hint that her powerful husband was lurking, he'd likely retaliate by unleashing her secrets out of spite. She couldn't underestimate him.

A black sedan idled just beyond the gates. Aria slipped through the pedestrian entrance and into the waiting car. The driver gave a polite nod and confirmed "Pier 27" as the destination. She managed a tight smile and nodded back.

As the car pulled away, Aria cast one last look at the silhouette of the Blackwood mansion, its windows glowing softly against the night. A lump rose in her throat—regret, longing, fear. She forced it down. Focus. She had to focus on what needed to be done.

Tonight, it ends, she told herself, pressing a hand against her churning stomach. One way or another, she would put an end to Victor's hold over her life.

She only wished she felt as brave as the words she kept repeating in her head.

---

Upstairs in his dim study, Damien watched from an upstairs window as a car slipped away from the front gates. He had returned home earlier than expected, unable to concentrate at work with worry gnawing at him. Now that worry flared into alarm. Aria was in that car—hood up, clearly trying not to be seen.

Damien's heart pounded. Where the hell was she going at this hour?

In a flash, he was on the move. He grabbed his keys from the desk and sprinted downstairs. Within minutes, his black Aston Martin was roaring down the drive. He followed her hired sedan at a careful distance, keeping his headlights low.

His mind raced even faster. Aria had shut him out, but he wasn't about to sit by and let her face whatever this was on her own. Not when she looked so damn haunted.

Whatever secrets she was protecting, whatever danger she thought she had to handle by herself—Damien muttered a curse as he caught sight of her car turning toward the riverfront—he was about to find out.

He only prayed he wouldn't be too late.