Damien's POV
My father was sitting in my penthouse when I got home.
Not Aria. Not Vincent. My father. In my private space. Drinking my whiskey like he owned it.
Like he owned everything.
"Welcome back, son." Marcus didn't look up from his glass. "How was Tokyo?"
"Where is she?" My heart hammered. The flight back had been twelve hours of pure hell, imagining what he'd done to Aria. "If you touched her—"
"Your wife is fine. Reading in the library, last I checked." He finally met my eyes. "Surprisingly resilient, that one. Most would have broken by now."
I wanted to hit him. My own father. I wanted to wrap my hands around his throat and squeeze until he explained why he'd held a gun to my wife's head.
But Marcus Wolfe didn't respond to violence. He responded to control.
"Get out of my home," I said quietly.
"Our home. I own this building, remember?" He stood slowly. "We need to discuss your priorities. You chose Tokyo. Good. That shows you understand where your loyalties lie."
"I came back."
"Three weeks late. After I'd already made my point." He walked past me toward the door, then paused. "The girl serves a purpose, Damien. Use her for that purpose and nothing more. Don't make the same mistake you made with Jessica."
My blood froze. "What mistake?"
"Caring." He said it like a curse. "Caring makes you weak. Exploitable. Dead." His smile was cold. "Ask Jessica how well caring worked out for her."
"You tried to kill her."
"I tried to save you from yourself." No remorse. No guilt. "Everything I do is to protect this family. To protect you. Even when you're too stupid to see it."
He left before I could respond.
I stood there, shaking with rage and something worse. Fear.
Because part of me understood his logic. Part of me had been raised to think exactly like him.
Don't care. Don't feel. Don't be weak.
But then why did I fly back early? Why did I barely sleep for three weeks, constantly checking security feeds to make sure Aria was alive?
Why did seeing my father in this apartment make me want to burn everything down to keep her safe?
I found Aria in the library, exactly where Marcus said. She sat curled in a chair with a book, but her eyes weren't moving across the pages. She was just staring.
"You came back." Her voice was flat. Empty.
"I told you I would."
"You also told me I was safe. Then your father put a gun to my head." She finally looked at me. Her eyes were different. Harder. "But I guess that's just business, right?"
Guilt hit me like a fist. I'd abandoned her. Left her alone with my father's threats and Vincent's worried looks and three weeks of silence.
"Aria—"
"Don't." She stood up. "Just tell me what you want. You came back for a reason. What is it?"
The contract. The heir. The whole purpose of this arrangement.
I should have just said it. Should have been cold and clinical like always.
But looking at her—really looking at her for the first time in weeks—I saw something I'd missed before.
She'd lost weight. Dark circles under her eyes. Her hands trembled slightly.
She looked like my mother did before she died. Hollow. Broken.
Used up.
"Go to the bedroom," I said. The words came out wrong. Too harsh.
She flinched. "Of course. Your breeding mare is ready for service."
"Don't—" I stopped. What could I say? That's exactly what she was. What I'd made her.
She walked past me without another word.
I followed her down the hall, hating myself with every step.
The bedroom was dark. She didn't turn on the lights. Just stood by the bed, waiting like a prisoner waiting for execution.
"Aria, we don't have to—"
"Let's just get it over with." Her voice cracked. "You want a baby. I want to survive. This is the deal."
It was the same as our wedding night. Cold. Silent. Mechanical.
But this time was worse because now I knew what I was doing to her. Now I could see the tears she was trying to hide. Now I understood that every time I touched her like this, I was destroying something I didn't even know I wanted to protect.
When it was over, I started to get up. Started to leave like I always did.
Then her hand caught mine.
"Stay," she whispered. "Please. Just for a minute."
Her fingers were cold. Small. Shaking.
Every instinct screamed at me to pull away. To maintain distance. To follow my father's rules.
Don't care. Don't feel. Don't be weak.
I pulled my hand free.
Her breath hitched. She rolled over, facing away from me.
I stood there like a coward, watching her shoulders shake with silent crying.
Then I left.
Because that's what I did. That's who I was.
I went to my office and poured a drink. Then another. Then another.
My phone buzzed. Text from Vincent: We have a problem.
Of course we did. When didn't we have a problem?
What now?
His response came with a photo attached.
The photo showed Aria standing in a warehouse. But she wasn't alone.
There was another woman with her. A woman who looked exactly like Aria. Same face. Same everything.
And standing behind them both was my father. Holding Isabella's hand.
My daughter. My secret daughter. The child I'd kept hidden from everyone, including Aria.
Vincent's text continued: She knows about Isabella. She knows about Aria Chen. She knows everything. And your father just told her she's part of a breeding program. That there are more women like her. That she's not the first "replacement."
The glass shattered in my hand. Blood dripped onto my desk.
Another text: There's more. The DNA results came back on Aria Chen. She's not just a lookalike, Damien. She's Aria Zhang's identical twin. Separated at birth. Both adopted by different families. And your father arranged both adoptions.
No. No, no, no.
My father had been planning this for decades. Creating identical women he could use and discard.
And Aria—my Aria—was one of them.
One last text from Vincent: She's coming back to the penthouse now. And she's not alone. Aria Chen is with her. They want answers. Both of them.
I heard the elevator ding.
Voices in the hallway. Two identical voices.
The door to my office opened.
Two Arias stood there. Mirror images. Both looking at me with the same betrayed expression.
"Hello, husband," they said in perfect unison. "Ready to explain why your father bred us like cattle? Why there are five more women just like us scattered around the world? Why Isabella thinks we're both her mother?"
Behind them, my father appeared, smiling.
"Surprise, son. Did you really think there was only one? We've been creating perfect Wolfe carriers for twenty years. Your wife is generation two, batch three. And she's about to meet her sisters."
Four more women stepped into view.
All of them identical to Aria.
All of them carrying my father's breeding program in their blood.
And all of them looking at me like I was the monster who'd destroyed their lives.
Because I was.