✍️ Chapter 4: Echoes of Before
The envelope wasn't in her itinerary.
It had been slipped beneath her bedroom door—heavy, cream-colored, hand-addressed in black ink.
Miss Aria LinhGuest of Honor – The Montclair Foundation Winter Gala Friday, 8:00 PM Attire: Formal RSVP Not Required
She sat on the edge of the bed, reading it twice.
Montclair.
She hadn't heard that name in years.
The Montclairs were old money—ancient bloodlines, perfect façades, smiles sharp enough to slit throats. But once, long ago, they had been allies of her father's. She remembered Sunday brunches in their country estate, remembered a boy who played the violin too well for his age. Felix Montclair.
And she remembered how fast their family cut ties when the scandal broke.
But now, an invitation?
Aria checked the clock.
Friday. Two nights away.
She didn't bother asking Miss Yew if it was on the official calendar. She already knew the answer. It wasn't.
And that was exactly why she was going.
By the time she stepped into the ballroom on Friday night, Aria didn't feel like herself.
She looked like someone better—someone dangerous.
Her gown was midnight blue, floor-length silk with a slit so clean it looked accidental. Her heels were crystal-pinned. Her hair swept into a soft twist. The public mask Kade Ryuu had crafted for her… she'd sharpened it to a blade.
Heads turned as she entered.
The Montclair estate was a sea of chandeliers, polished banisters, and men with champagne flutes pretending not to be watching.
But one man didn't pretend.
He approached her the moment he saw her.
Felix.
Older now—broader, more confident, dressed in black on black with a wine-red pocket square. His hair was longer, curled slightly at the edges, and his smile was slower than she remembered. Less boyish. More wolf.
"Well," he said, offering a hand. "Aria Linh rises from the ashes. I never thought I'd see you here again."
She took his hand.
"Neither did I."
"And yet, here you are." He tilted his head. "Back on your feet. Back in the news. Back on a billionaire's arm."
She didn't flinch. "I'm not a trophy, Felix."
"No," he said. "You're a warning."
She narrowed her eyes. "To whom?"
"To every man who thinks burying you means you're gone."
The smile he gave her wasn't kind. It was admiring.
And that's when she knew:
Felix wasn't here to catch up.
He was here to stir the water.
The car was waiting for her when she left the Montclair estate.
But it wasn't hers.
And it wasn't Kade's.
The driver didn't speak—just opened the door, eyes averted. Inside, the lights were dimmed, the leather too cold, and Kade Ryuu sat in the back seat, legs crossed, gloved fingers tapping slowly on his knee.
Aria stopped in the open doorway.
He didn't look up. Just said, evenly, "Get in."
She considered walking away.
She also considered that her every move was probably tracked the second she left the penthouse.
She stepped inside. The door shut behind her with a hollow thud.
They didn't speak for the first three blocks.
Then Kade said, calmly: "You weren't scheduled for a public appearance tonight."
"No," she said. "I wasn't."
"You ignored protocol. You ignored your security detail. You didn't notify Yew. And you did it wearing a designer dress I didn't authorize."
She smiled without humor. "You forgot to mention I didn't embarrass you. That must sting."
His eyes slid toward her.
"I didn't marry you for surprises."
"You didn't marry me at all."
The silence in the car stretched. The city passed outside the windows in a blur of lights—too fast, too empty.
Finally, she spoke again.
"Why does it bother you so much that I went to a party?"
"Because you went to his party."
She froze.
Kade's voice didn't rise. But it was tight now, held too tightly to be calm.
"Felix Montclair," he said, like the name itself tasted like poison. "He's been circling for months. Gaining board support. Making noise in overseas markets. And now he brings you into his house?"
"It was an invitation. Not a coup."
Kade turned to face her fully now.
"No one invites Aria Linh without a reason. Not anymore."
There was something bitter in his tone. Something that sounded a little too much like jealousy.
"I didn't go there to make a move," she said. "I went because someone remembered I used to exist before you turned me into your accessory."
He stared at her for a moment too long.
Then leaned in, voice low, cold, close.
"You stopped being yours the moment you signed that contract."
And in that instant—no matter how hard she'd tried to stay composed—Aria snapped.
"No," she said, voice shaking. "I stopped being yours the moment you needed me to be. And one day, Kade, when this entire performance crashes around us, I hope you finally understand what that makes you."
He didn't answer.
He didn't have to.
Because in his eyes, for just a moment, something slipped.
Not anger.
Not pride.
Fear.
As if he already knew she might be right.