Aria stood in the doorway of Ethan's office, silhouetted by the waning afternoon light. The city glowed behind her, skyscrapers smudged by sunset, glass reflecting a hundred versions of herself. She watched Ethan at his desk, jaw set, sleeves rolled up, leather journal open beside a half-empty glass of bourbon. He looked older than he had a week ago, the weight of legacy and betrayal pulling his shoulders low.
She closed the door quietly. "Survive your public execution?"
He glanced up, eyes flicking over her face. "Barely. Richard sharpened the knives. Vanessa brought the poison." He tried a smile, failed.
She crossed the room, perching on the arm of the sofa, legs crossed, hands folded in her lap. "I heard about the vote. Catherine's holding court, and Daniel's playing both sides."
Ethan's gaze sharpened. "How do you—?"
She only raised an eyebrow. "I have sources. It's amazing what a well-timed bottle of Petrus can buy you in this city."
He chuckled, tension breaking for a heartbeat. "Remind me never to underestimate you."
She let her gaze drift to the window, watched the city pulse. "You already did. In another life."
That landed between them, quiet and heavy.
He turned in his chair, the leather creaking. "Why are you really here, Aria?"
She considered lying—habit, self-defense—but chose honesty instead. "Because if you fall, I fall too. And I didn't come this far to lose everything. Especially not to Richard, or Vanessa. Or your mother."
Ethan's mouth quirked. "I thought you were the enemy."
"I'm your asset, Ethan," she said, steel in her voice. "And you're mine. That's how we survive. Together."
He hesitated, then nodded. "Alliance, then?"
She stood, offered her hand across the desk. "Alliance. Total information sharing. No major moves without consulting the other."
He took her hand—warm, solid, a familiar weight from another world. "Agreed."
Their fingers lingered, but neither pulled away first.
He watched her, trying to read the flickers in her eyes—the old Aria would have looked away, blushed, said something pretty and meaningless. This one held his gaze, measuring him, daring him to flinch.
"How much do you know?" he asked quietly.
"Enough." Her voice was smooth, but her jaw worked, as if bottling a hundred secrets. "Vanessa's meeting Julian Vance. Catherine's lining up proxies. Daniel's hiding more than he admits. And someone's been poking into offshore accounts."
Ethan's pulse skipped. "You?"
Aria shrugged. "I learned from the best." The smile she offered was razor-thin.
He exhaled, some swirling tension dissipating. "I'm not your enemy, Aria. I want you safe."
She eased onto the sofa, tucking a leg beneath her. "Then let's talk threats. Vanessa."
He nodded. "She's been texting me. Trying to get close. I'm ignoring her, but…" He trailed off, the shame of the first timeline still raw.
Aria's expression didn't soften. "She's dangerous. She wants leverage. Don't give her any."
Ethan nodded, the old guilt knotting his stomach. "I won't."
Silence grew between them, thick with things unsaid.
Aria broke it: "I put a keylogger on Sarah's computer. She's loyal, but someone blackmailed her. Photos she can't afford to have out. She didn't want to betray you."
Ethan blinked, surprised but not angry. "Who has the originals?"
"Vanessa, probably. Or Vance. Either way, we control the fallout now." She looked at him, eyes hard. "If you want me to stop digging, say so."
He shook his head. "No. I need your eyes where mine can't go." A pause, then softer: "I should have trusted you sooner."
She held his gaze, unflinching. "Don't make that mistake again."
For a moment, Aria let the mask slip—just enough for Ethan to see the exhaustion beneath. "This isn't sustainable, Ethan. We can't keep fighting fires on every front."
He rubbed his brow, wedding ring glinting. "What's your best play?"
"We expose Vanessa before she can move. Use the evidence against her, force a confession or drive her out. Catherine will turn on her the second she becomes a liability."
He nodded slowly. "And Richard?"
A shadow crossed her features. "He's old guard. He wants you isolated, desperate for approval. Don't give him what he wants."
Ethan's voice was low, haunted. "He raised me to be alone."
She didn't answer, just watched him with a kind of pity that cut deeper than anger.
A long silence, broken only by the city's muffled noise.
He poured her a bourbon. She accepted, their fingers brushing—static flaring, old memories surfacing. He wanted to apologize for a thousand sins, confess a thousand regrets. Instead, he said, "We share everything. No more secrets."
Aria nodded, taking a sip. "Information only. The rest…we'll see."
He laughed, the sound rough. "Fair enough."
She leaned forward, elbows on her knees, voice suddenly conspiratorial. "Have you noticed Vanessa's been cozying up to the audit team?"
He nodded. "Daniel flagged it. She's looking for numbers to hurt me."
"Or us," Aria corrected. "She can't separate us unless we give her a reason."
Ethan set his glass down, voice grave. "Then we give her nothing."
The alliance was fragile—born not of trust, but of necessity. But as she left his office that evening, Aria's steps felt lighter. For the first time since her rebirth, she was walking beside Ethan, not behind him.
She passed Vanessa in the hallway—smiling, saccharine, a serpent in stilettos.
"Working late, Aria?" Vanessa cooed.
"Just making sure I'm never caught off guard," Aria replied, smile razor-sharp.
Vanessa's eyes cooled. "Let me know if you need anything."
Aria held her gaze. "I will. But I rarely need help."
She moved on, heart pounding, adrenaline humming. She texted Ethan as she descended the stairs: Alliance holds. See you at home.
He watched Aria's message appear on his screen, a single line that felt like a lifeline. Alliance holds. See you at home.
He typed back: Always.
He closed his journal, locked his office, and stepped into the night. The city was still full of enemies, but now, at least, he wasn't alone.
Whatever war was coming, they would face it together—two liars, one truth, and a partnership forged in fire.