The penthouse was a fortress in the sky—steel, glass, silence. Aria felt like an invader the moment she stepped inside, boots echoing faintly against the marble floors.
It didn't feel like a home. More like a showroom.
Leonhart Crane stood near the bar, sleeves rolled back, jacket discarded. He poured himself a drink, not offering one. Not that she wanted it.
She was here for business.
"So," Aria said, arms crossed. "Let's hear it."
He turned slowly, expression blank as ever. "No time wasted. I respect that."
Leon set his glass down and slid a black folder across the counter. It landed with a muted thud.
"The contract," he said. "Read it carefully."
Aria didn't move to touch it yet. "Six months. That's what you said."
"Yes."
"And in return, I get half a million dollars. Security. A clean slate."
Leon's jaw tightened. "And I get a wife. Temporarily. Public-facing only. We keep it simple."
"You think marriage is simple?"
"I think business is," he said coolly. "And that's what this is."
Aria opened the folder. Twenty-eight pages. Legal clauses. Her name printed at the top like it belonged there.
Her name.
Aria Vale.
Not the one she was born with.
She flipped through, scanning details. It was all too perfect. Everything accounted for. Even her wardrobe allowance had a line item.
"You've done this before?" she asked.
He hesitated. "No. But I've drafted business mergers. This is similar."
She almost laughed. "You're comparing marriage to a merger?"
Leon looked her dead in the eye. "You said yes for the money. I'm offering stability. If you want romance, look elsewhere."
"God, no." Aria shook her head. "Romance is what gets people killed."
That made his brow lift.
She regretted saying it, but didn't take it back.
Leon walked around the counter, closer now. He moved like a man used to space, used to people making room for him. Aria didn't move.
"You'll live here," he said. "No media contact without approval. Three events together—charity ball, corporate gala, brunch with my mother."
Aria raised a brow. "Your mother?"
"She insists on meeting you. Don't worry. I warned her not to ask questions."
"Charming," Aria muttered.
He passed her a pen. "Page twenty-eight. Signature and date."
She stared at it.
She could walk away.
She should.
But what waited outside was worse than what she was stepping into. And Leon Crane, for all his icy arrogance, had never looked at her like she was prey.
Yet.
Her hand trembled slightly as she signed.
It was done.
That night, she moved into the guest suite—a room bigger than her last three apartments combined. It had its own fireplace, rainfall shower, and a view of the skyline that looked almost kind.
But Aria didn't unpack.
She sat on the edge of the bed, staring at her old phone.
She hadn't turned it on in weeks. It was her last connection to everything she was trying to forget.
She powered it up.
No signal. Just one message waiting.
Unknown Number:
Did you think you could hide forever?
She deleted it. Threw the phone in the trash. But the words stayed etched in her mind.
Across the penthouse, Leon stood in his private study, sipping his second drink.
He opened the drawer to his desk and pulled out an old photograph—creases worn into the edges.
A blurry image. A girl in red.
She had vanished after one night. No name. No clue.
But something in Aria's eyes tonight—
It was too familiar.
Too haunting.
He slipped the photo back into the drawer and shut it.
This marriage was supposed to be clean. Temporary.
But Leon had just invited a ghost into his home.
And neither of them knew how real the past still was.