The sharp buzz of her phone on the passenger seat rattled Aria from the simmering fog of anger she had driven in. Her fingers closed around it tightly, her nails pressing into her palm. She didn't need to see the name to know whose call it was.
"Henry," she demanded as soon as he answered. Her voice carried the simmering tension of the storm brewing inside her. "Where are you?"
"I'm still at the office," Henry replied, calm, clipped, and distant as ever.
The tone only fueled Aria's irritation. She gritted her teeth, slamming the phone shut. She didn't need his tone; she didn't need his distance. She neede resolution. Action. Without another word, she threw the car into gear, letting the city streets blur past her in a reckless rhythm of fury and adrenaline.
By the time she arrived, the office tower rose like a monolith. The mirrored lobby reflected her own taut, angry expression back at her as she strode toward the elevators.
The door to the office corridor swung open, and she paused just long enough to take a steadying breath. Inside, she saw them immediately: Henry, bent over documents at his desk, sharp and precise as ever, and across the room, Fin, who looked up with a polite, almost rehearsed smile.
The air shifted for Aria. Memories slammed into her like a tidal wave. This—this office, this presence—it belonged to another life she had lived. She remembered the sharpness of the air, the cold polish of the floors, the same hushed quiet that had accompanied her first encounters here. In her past, she had seen Fin before, just once, but it had left a mark she couldn't erase in her memories.
Now, in this second chance, she saw them as strangers and yet painfully familiar. Her eyes caught Fin's again, and he inclined his head in that same meticulous, deliberate way.
"Good evening, Mrs. Lannister, I am Fin, we work closely with Henry." he said, the words slicing through the quiet office with practiced precision. His voice, so polished and respectful, carried that undertone she remembered all too well—a hint of admiration, of recognition that was uncomfortable in its intimacy.
Aria's chest tightened. The title cut through her heart like glass, and for a fleeting moment, she was back in the old life, the life she had lost, the life she had died in. Her gaze flicked instinctively toward Henry's desk, toward the place where a photograph had always sat—a photo of Clara. She remembered its exact position, its delicate frame.
And yet—there was nothing.
Her breath hitched subtly, though she made no outward show of it. The absence of the photo was unexpected, disorienting. What's going on there?
She masked her surprise, forcing herself into control.
"I only wish to speak with Mr. Lannister," she said firmly, voice steady, attempting to impose a sense of authority over herself as much as over the situation.
Fin inclined his head once, eyes flicking to Henry with that same calculated politeness. "Very well. I will leave you two to your discussion." He turned, leaving the office with that quiet precision that made him almost ghostlike, the soft click of his shoes fading into the distance.
Aria let out a quiet breath once he was gone. The tension between her and Henry thickened instantly, drawn taut by unspoken accusations and the day's earlier fury.
"I heard about Darcy," she began, her voice low, edged with restrained fury. "Reporting every moment of my life to you!"
Henry lifted his eyes from the documents, sharp blue against the pale walls, and the room seemed to narrow around her. His jaw tightened, and before she could finish, he rose with deliberate, almost predatory movement, closing the space between them.
"You're saying that I—" he began, voice cold and dangerous.
"I'm saying you're aware," she cut in, refusing to back down. "And I want answers. Every step I take, Henry. Every second. I know about Darcy."
He stopped just inches from her, his presence a wall, imposing and immediate. Aria could feel the heat radiating from him, the magnetic pull of his body so close to hers that it seemed to defy the boundaries of personal space. Their eyes locked, a silent battle of will and dominance, old habits and new realities clashing in the tight space.
"You shouldn't be here," Henry said finally, voice lower, a growl that vibrated with suppressed emotion.
"And yet I am," Aria shot back, chest rising with the rhythm of defiance. Her pulse thundered in her ears as she met his gaze, refusing to flinch despite the closeness, the unspoken threat.
The air between them felt electric, charged with unspoken tension. Their past arguments had always been calculated, cold, measured. But now… now there was heat, proximity, the raw, almost dangerous undercurrent of attraction mingled with rage.
Henry's eyes lingered on her face, and for a fraction of a second, his mask faltered. He noticed the changes—the vitality in her cheeks, the subtle confidence in her posture, the scent of her perfume lingering faintly in the air. It unsettled him. For the first time in ages, he took a step back, shaking off the disquiet as he returned to his role: controlled, impenetrable, precise.
Aria let him retreat to his desk, sitting in the chair opposite, but the room still vibrated with the tension that neither had released. Words were unnecessary; the air spoke volumes.
Before either of them could break the silence, the office door opened again. Fin re-entered, his presence immediately commanding attention, and Aria felt that same prickling of discomfort from before.
"Mr. Lannister," he said smoothly, glancing at both of them. "The guests you expected have arrived."
Henry's sharp features tightened as he nodded once. "Take Mrs. Lannister home, Fin," he said, voice flat, controlled. "I'll manage here."
Fin's eyes flicked to Aria with a small, knowing smile, one that seemed to carry more than politeness—an understanding of the unspoken tension between the two of them. "Of course," he said, his tone light, conversational, almost friendly. "Shall we?"
As they left the office, the cold glass and sterile papers behind them, Aria felt a strange mixture of relief and irritation. She hadn't wanted to leave, but the shift in the room had been almost suffocating. Who were the guests, and why did Henry not want her to see them?
The elevator ride was quiet, the soft hum of the machinery almost meditative.
Once in the car, Fin drove with casual precision, hands on the wheel, eyes on the road. The cityscape glided past them, lights flickering against the windows, a muted reflection of the tension and heat still lingering in her chest.
"You're…" Aria began, struggling for words. "You and Henry… you seem close."
Fin smiled faintly, eyes forward, hands firm on the wheel. "We've been friends for years. He trusts me, confides in me."
"And you tell him everything," Aria said sharply, unable to mask the edge in her voice.
"Not everything," Fin replied, a teasing lift to his tone. "But enough that he knows certain things—logistics, timing, circumstances. That's my role. You must admit, it's useful for him."
The conversation fell silent for a few moments. Then, almost impulsively, Aria asked: "So tell me, who is Clara?"
Fin's eyes flicked to her, sharp and deliberate, calculating. The car's interior seemed to contract, charged with the gravity of the question. "Clara?" he said slowly, measuring the weight of the name. "I don't know anything about her."
"That's a lie. You've been by Henry's side for years. How could you not know who his ex-lover is?" Aria said.
"I fail to see the reason for mentioning this. I have no knowledge of the person you're referring to. Mr. Lannister has never spoken to me of such an individual." Aria didn't believe it. She chose to remain silent, knowing she wouldn't get any information.
The car pulled up to the mansion, and Fin killed the engine. The headlights reflected off her red nails, and she flexed her fingers subconsciously, the boldness of her choices today grounding her. Fin spoke again, with his usual composed demeanor.
"Mrs. Lannister, Henry's… complicated. But he values you more than you think. More than you allow yourself to acknowledge."
Aria's lips pressed together, the tension of the day coiling inside her like steel springs. "We'll see," she muttered, stepping out of the car.
Fin smiled faintly, watching her. "You'll see. And when you do… you'll understand things you didn't expect."
Things I didn't except?
The car door closed, and Aria lifted her gaze to the mansion, the sharp lines of glass and stone reflecting the city lights. She felt the weight of the day pressing on her shoulders, the collisions of the past and present weaving into a complex tapestry of emotion and tension.
Was Fin telling the truth? What had changed in this life after being reborn? She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. In a moment of anger, she had asked Fin foolish questions. She knew he would tell Henry about them.
She murmured. "Let's see how he will react."