The first cracks appeared in the silence.
Not in a gunfight or a shouted accusation, but in the way Aria stared too long at her reflection one night, the way her hands trembled as she pressed them against the cool porcelain of the bathroom sink, her breath fogging the mirror. Her life had become unrecognizable. The girl who once fretted over term papers and future internships was gone. In her place stood someone whose name had been written into blood-soaked ledgers long before she was born. Heiress. Target. Bait. Power.
And she wasn't sure she wanted any of it.
The walls of Luca's penthouse, normally a fortress of warmth and protection, felt like a gilded cage. Guards patrolled the hallways day and night. Security cameras blinked in every corner. Even stepping onto the balcony meant two bodyguards shadowing her from inside. It wasn't freedom; it was survival. And it was slowly suffocating her.
