The silence in the black Mercedes was thick, suffocating—a silence laced with too many unsaid words, too many buried wounds.
Sophie sat poised in the back seat, but inside she was a storm. Her hands were folded too tightly in her lap, her pearl bracelet digging into her skin. Her reflection in the window stared back—composed, dignified. A lie.
Aiden sat beside her, his expression unreadable as ever. Dressed in a sleek black suit that framed his sculpted form with precision, he looked like a man made of marble—perfect, distant, and cold. But Sophie had seen the flicker in his eyes tonight. The slip in control.
"You didn't have to do that," she murmured, breaking the silence.
Aiden didn't look at her. "He touched you."
"I could've handled it."
"No," he said sharply, turning his head now, "you don't understand the people we're dealing with. Colin wasn't drunk. He was baiting you. Testing your limits. I had to respond."
Sophie turned in her seat, her gaze steely. "By shaming him in front of the press? By reminding everyone that this marriage is just another tool in your war against your enemies?"
Aiden's jaw clenched. "This marriage is more than that now."
She froze.
He didn't meet her eyes. Didn't explain. Just turned away again.
The car pulled into the underground garage of the Hart estate. Spotless concrete. Motion-activated lights. Guards at every exit. Every corner of this mansion screamed power, control, legacy.
And Sophie hated it more with each passing day.
Inside the estate, the silence grew heavier. The grand chandelier above them sparkled as if mocking her. She slipped off her heels, walking barefoot on the marble floor like a ghost.
In the lounge, Aiden poured himself whiskey—no ice. He stood by the window, staring out at the shadowy city skyline.
Sophie hovered near the doorway. "Do you ever feel like we're both prisoners?"
Aiden took a slow sip, his eyes never leaving the horizon. "No. Prisoners don't get to choose their chains."
She flinched. "So what am I to you? A chain you chose? Or one forced onto you?"
He looked at her now, truly looked. His eyes were shadowed, layered with thoughts she couldn't untangle.
"You're not a chain," he said quietly. "You're the only variable I didn't account for."
The weight of his words landed like thunder in her chest. But before she could speak, his phone buzzed on the table. He ignored it.
She walked toward him slowly, barefoot on polished marble, her presence a contrast to the cold room. "Why do you keep locking me out, Aiden? Every time I get close, you build another wall."
His voice was rough now. "Because every wall I build keeps you alive."
That made her stop. Her breath hitched. "What aren't you telling me?"
Another buzz. He finally picked up the phone, glancing at it. For a brief moment, a look of fury crossed his face.
Sophie stepped closer. "Aiden—what's going on?"
He turned the phone off. Walked past her. Poured another glass of whiskey.
"It's not safe for you to know everything yet."
"Yet?"
He leaned against the mantelpiece. "You think Colin Spencer was the end? Voss is playing a longer game. He wants something from you. Something your father was hiding before he died."
"My father?" Sophie's voice cracked. "He worked in architecture and urban planning. He wasn't part of this world."
Aiden looked at her, and for the first time, there was real sympathy in his eyes. "Your father designed more than city skylines. He designed escape routes, vaults…even shadow safehouses for men like Voss. Before he was eliminated, he encoded everything in a financial algorithm hidden in dormant accounts. Voss wants that key. And he thinks it's in your blood."
Sophie's knees weakened. She sat on the edge of the couch.
"I don't…" Her voice trembled. "I didn't know any of that."
"No one was supposed to. But Voss suspects. Which is why he's using you now…through every angle. Colin was just the beginning."
Her mind raced. Was this why her father died in that mysterious 'accident'?
Then it hit her—Colin Spencer had mentioned her father tonight. Casually. As if fishing.
Aiden took a step closer. "I didn't marry you just for protection. At least… not anymore."
Sophie looked up. "Then why?"
He didn't speak.
She stood slowly, lifting her chin. "Until you can answer that, stop trying to shield me like I'm porcelain. I want the truth, Aiden. Or I'll find it on my own."
A long silence.
Then his voice, low and broken: "If you search too deep… you won't like what you find."
She didn't flinch. "Neither will Voss."
She walked out, her bare feet echoing down the hallway, heart thundering.
---
In the dim sanctuary of her room, Sophie pulled out the old lockbox she'd kept from her childhood—one her father gave her "just in case." She had never dared open it. But tonight, the urgency pressed in like a scream.
She broke the latch.
Inside was a photograph of her father, smiling beside a man in a gray coat—his face blurred. Behind them, a mural: Lux Holdings Private Trust Bank – Geneva.
She flipped the photo over.
One handwritten word.
"Orion."
And beneath it, in numbers:
XVII – IX – I – V – XIII
A code.
A place.
A warning?
Or a weapon?
Sophie sat back, the weight of the secrets pressing into her spine.
Everything had changed.
If Aiden wouldn't protect her with the truth, she would protect herself—with vengeance.
---