Lina's words hung in the air like smoke, choking me.
The truth. About your mother.
I stared at her, my chest tight, my pulse hammering so loud I could barely hear my own thoughts. My mother was a ghost in this house—her portraits polished, her name whispered, but her memory smothered by Father's rules. She'd died when I was ten. That was the only truth I'd ever been allowed.
"What are you talking about?" My voice came out sharp, panicked. "My mother is dead."
Lina's pale face trembled. "That's what he told you."
My knees nearly buckled. Damon stepped closer, his hand brushing the small of my back as if he sensed the ground slipping beneath me. His voice was calm, steady. "Explain, Lina. Carefully."
She glanced over her shoulder, fear etched into every line of her. "Not here. He could hear us."
Damon's jaw tightened. He nodded once, then guided us quickly down the hall, his grip firm on my arm. He led us into a side room—a small library lined with dust-covered books, the kind Father never touched. Damon shut the door softly, locking it with a swift click.
The silence stretched, heavy.
Lina wrung her hands. "Your mother didn't die in that car accident, Miss Kingsley. She was taken away."
The world tilted again. "Taken?"
Lina nodded, her eyes filling with tears. "She was alive. Broken, but alive. I know because my aunt worked in this house back then. She saw the doctors come. She overheard your father's orders. They didn't bury her. They sent her away."
I couldn't breathe. My throat closed, my skin went cold, my mind rejecting everything at once. "No," I whispered, shaking my head. "That's not possible. I saw the casket. I—"
"Empty," Lina cut in softly. "It was empty."
The room swayed. My legs gave out, and I stumbled. Damon caught me instantly, pulling me against his chest, grounding me with his warmth. My fists clenched in his shirt, my body shaking.
"Aria," he murmured, his lips brushing my hair. "Breathe."
But how could I? My whole life had just been cracked open. My mother—my beautiful, distant, perfect mother—wasn't gone? She'd been hidden? By the man who raised me?
"Why?" My voice broke. "Why would he do that?"
Lina's eyes darted away. "Because she knew too much."
"About what?" Damon pressed, his voice sharp now, the soldier in him pushing forward.
Lina hesitated, then whispered, "About his deals. The money. The people he ruined. She tried to stop him. And when she wouldn't stay silent, he… he made her disappear."
My body went rigid. Rage, grief, disbelief—everything crashed at once.
Damon's grip on me tightened, his voice low and lethal. "Where is she now?"
"I don't know." Lina's tears spilled. "But my aunt swore she heard the name of a clinic. In Switzerland."
Switzerland. The word tasted foreign, sharp, like hope laced with poison.
I pulled back from Damon's chest, staring at Lina. "Why are you telling me this now?"
Her lip trembled. "Because he won't stop, Miss Kingsley. Not with Lina, not with you. You need to know who he really is. You need to know what you're up against."
My heartbeat thundered in my ears. Everything I thought I knew—my family, my life, my grief—was a lie.
Damon's hand cupped my cheek, forcing me to meet his eyes. His gaze burned, steady, grounding me. "Listen to me, Aria. This changes everything. But you cannot show him you know. If he suspects—"
"I don't care!" My voice cracked, raw. "He lied to me my whole life, Damon. About her. About everything. I won't just sit here and—"
Damon silenced me with a kiss.
Not soft. Not gentle. A brutal clash of lips, full of anger and desperation and a fire that consumed us both. He tasted like danger, like a promise of war, and I let myself drown in it, because it was the only truth I had left.
When he tore away, his forehead pressed against mine, his breath ragged. "I will burn the world down to find her for you. But you have to trust me. Do you understand?"
Tears blurred my vision. I nodded, my heart breaking, mending, breaking again all at once.
Lina shifted nervously, wringing her hands. "I shouldn't be here. If he finds out I told you—"
The sound of footsteps thundered outside. Heavy. Close.
Damon's body went rigid. His hand went to the gun hidden beneath his jacket. He motioned for silence, his eyes hard.
The door handle turned.
I gasped, gripping Damon's arm.
And then the voice came, smooth and cold.
"Aria. Why are you locked in my library?"
Father.