Public Property
The knock came at 7:00 a.m.
Aria had been awake for hours, staring at the ceiling, rehearsing the moment she would call Kade and demand a real conversation. She hadn't expected him to send someone instead.
The woman who stood at her door looked exactly like the kind of person Kade would trust: precise, cold, unshakable. Slim dark blazer, perfect red lipstick, sunglasses indoors.
"Miss Linh," she said, without introduction. "I'm Miss Yew. Your escort for today."
Aria blinked. "Escort for what?"
"Your engagement announcement. Your stylist will meet us in the car."
Aria stared at her. "I signed that contract last night."
"Correct. Mr. Ryuu prefers a swift public transition."
"I haven't even told my father. Or my friends. I don't have a dress. I haven't—"
Miss Yew gave her a polite, meaningless smile. "You're under contract now. Everything you need has already been arranged."
And just like that, Aria Linh stopped being a person and started being a brand.
The black town car was silent except for the soft shuffle of designer gowns on velvet hangers. A stylist had already selected three options for Aria to wear: soft pink, icy blue, and classic cream.
All of them screamed "approachable fiancée."
All of them felt like lies.
She chose the blue.
By the time they pulled into the circular drive of the Orchid Pavilion Hotel—an elite rooftop venue reserved for old money and newer power—her hair was curled, her makeup flawless, and her stomach completely empty.
Photographers waited on the marble steps.
She stepped out of the car and they erupted like a pack of crows—flashing, shouting, swarming.
"Miss Linh, how long have you two been together?" "Is it a political alliance?" "Are you pregnant?" "Was this arranged by the Ryuu board?"
She didn't answer. She barely moved.
Then she saw him.
Kade stood at the edge of the photo stage in a navy suit so perfectly cut it could've been stitched onto him. He held a mic. He didn't smile—but he looked the part.
To the world, he was a reformed bachelor. A brilliant CEO. A man ready to settle down.
He turned toward her, offered a hand, and Aria took it.
His grip was firm.
His words into the mic were smoother than silk.
"We've chosen to share our relationship now because, in a world full of uncertainty, I've found something I'm sure of."
The audience practically swooned.
Aria felt her spine lock. This wasn't a relationship. This was a narrative. And she was the plot twist.
Kade leaned toward her.
"Smile," he murmured under his breath. "You're not just mine now. You're everyone's."
The press conference felt like drowning in applause.
Every time Aria looked out into the crowd, she saw dozens of lenses trained on her face—waiting to catch the slightest twitch, the first sign of a crack in the fairytale. She smiled because she had to. Because she'd signed away the right not to.
Kade's arm stayed around her waist the entire time, a subtle grip that said: play along or we both burn.
But only one of them had anything left to burn.
Once the formal statements were over, the press shifted into a more "intimate" moment—the two of them seated together on a velvet couch, gold accents catching the light, as journalists lobbed carefully approved questions. She was supposed to look bashful. He was supposed to look proud. The perfect power couple.
Someone asked her what first drew her to Kade Ryuu.
Aria paused just long enough to see the twitch in Kade's jaw.
"His sense of certainty," she said finally. "Kade knows exactly what he wants. And he makes sure the world bends with him."
There was a laugh from the audience. A few murmurs of approval. She saw Kade glance at her, briefly, as if unsure whether it was a compliment or a veiled knife.
Another reporter asked when they first met.
"Years ago," Kade answered smoothly. "But some connections take time to become clear."
She could feel him navigating every answer like a chess match—scripted but poised, aware of every implication.
Then someone from the back shouted:
"Wasn't she involved in the whistleblower case six years ago?"
The room went cold.
The reporter was off-script. Not from their list.
Kade didn't blink. "We've all had chapters in our past. But the people who survive the hardest ones often turn out to be the most loyal."
Aria's throat tightened. A dozen responses flashed through her head—denials, explanations, truths—but she said nothing.
She wasn't here to speak.
She was here to be seen.
The press conference ended ten minutes later, but it felt like hours.
They didn't speak again until the car ride.
The stylist, Miss Yew, and the security were gone. It was just the two of them in a car so quiet she could hear her own pulse.
Aria broke first.
"You didn't warn me."
"I don't recall needing to," Kade said, still staring out the window. "We're married now. This is what you signed up for."
"We're not married yet," she said. "This is an engagement. An arrangement. Not a cage."
He finally looked at her.
"You think there's a difference?"
She didn't answer.
Kade turned back to the window.
"I suggest you get used to it, Aria," he said, voice quieter now. "From this moment forward, your name isn't yours. Your face isn't yours. Your life is a story I control. So learn your lines."
She looked at him—at the man she'd once thought was unbreakable.
She didn't see power.
She saw someone who had burned so long in silence that he'd forgotten what it meant not to feel like fire.
And she knew something then.
This wasn't about revenge.
Not really.
It was about control.
And whatever Kade Ryuu had lost six years ago, he'd never stopped trying to take it back.