The Smile Behind The Knife

A week had passed since Aria Alvene woke from her grave.

In that time, she had smiled more than she ever had in her first life.

Not because she was happy.

But because she finally understood the weight behind a smile—the way it could be a weapon, sharper than any blade. She learned it from Damien, from her parents, from her sister. And now, she wore it too.

Aria sat by the window of her father’s estate, sipping tea while sunlight streamed through lace curtains. Everything was identical to how it was before: the perfect portrait of wealth and civility.

But beneath the elegance was a rot she could taste in every breath.

Damien would arrive in minutes. He always did on Saturdays. Her family treated him like royalty, and she—like a prize to be gifted away.

But this time, the prize had teeth.

Aria set her cup down and opened her phone. A text from her investigator popped up.

“Damien met with Lily again yesterday. Hotel Marquez. I’ve attached photos.”

She didn’t need to look. She already knew what they did. She just wanted proof—evidence for later. Receipts. She would collect everything patiently.

She was no longer hunting for justice.

She was planting graves.

⸻

A knock came on the door. Her heart stilled.

“Aria,” her mother’s voice called sweetly. “Damien is here. And he brought flowers!”

Of course he did.

Aria opened the door slowly and walked down the stairs like she had a hundred times before. Only this time, she noticed everything—the polished banisters, the chandelier her father once sold her paintings to buy, the rug she’d later be dragged across when they thought she’d gone insane.

She stepped into the sitting room. There he was.

Damien.

Black slacks. Navy button-up shirt. Sleeves rolled up just enough to show his Rolex. A bouquet of white tulips—her favorite, which he only knew because she mentioned it once, years ago.

“Aria,” he said, approaching her with open arms. “I missed you.”

She let him hug her. Let his lips brush her cheek.

He smelled like betrayal and lavender.

“I missed you too,” she said, voice steady.

He smiled. “I thought we could take a walk today. Get away from all this for a bit.”

“I’d like that,” she replied, brushing her hair back.

They walked through the garden, winding around the roses her mother insisted on pruning herself. Damien laced his fingers through hers.

“I know things have been tense lately,” he began. “With your grandfather’s passing and everything. But I want you to know I’m here for you.”

He said it so sincerely. She almost laughed.

“You’re always so kind, Damien.”

He looked at her then, eyes soft, lips curved. “I love you, Aria. I want to build a future with you.”

A future soaked in poison.

She tilted her head. “Then marry me,” she said, eyes locked on his.

He blinked. “What?”

“If you love me so much, then let’s get engaged. Today.”

For a split second, the mask slipped. His smile faltered. Barely. But she saw it.

“You’re serious?”

“Dead serious.”

He hesitated. “I mean—of course I want to. But don’t you think we should wait until the family settles a bit? Your father said—”

“There’s always something, isn’t there?” she said sweetly. “You’ll propose… someday.”

He chuckled awkwardly. “You’re right. I’m just trying to make it perfect.”

You’re waiting until my will is fully transferred, you coward.

She smiled and looked away. “Of course. I understand.”

Damien exhaled, relieved. He pulled her into another hug.

She didn’t move. Didn’t even blink.

Instead, she whispered, “Do you still love her?”

His body stiffened.

“Who?” he asked, voice too casual.

“Lily.”

He pulled back, laughing nervously. “What are you talking about?”

“I saw you holding her hand last week. When you thought I wasn’t looking.”

He blinked again. “I… she was crying. I was comforting her. Your grandfather just died—”

“I saw you touch her lower back the way you touch mine.”

Silence.

He stared at her, lips slightly parted.

She tilted her head. “Is there something you want to tell me, Damien?”

He hesitated. Then laughed again, softer this time. “You’re overthinking things. Lily is like a little sister to me.”

Aria smiled. “I believe you.”

She didn’t.

He looked relieved again.

Fool.

⸻

That night, Lucien Virello watched from the second floor of the estate, standing by Aria’s window like a shadow carved from marble. He had been her bodyguard for three days.

He hadn’t spoken much.

But he watched everything.

He watched her smile through lies.

He watched the way her hands trembled after each conversation with her parents.

He watched how she slipped into silence when no one was around.

She reminded him of something he thought he had forgotten—what it looked like when a person broke and stitched themselves back together with vengeance.

⸻

“Do you always watch your clients like that?” she asked him that evening, stepping into her room.

Lucien turned. “Only the ones who have targets painted on their backs.”

“Do I?”

He stared at her.

“Yes,” he said.

Aria folded her arms. “I thought you were just a bodyguard.”

“I am,” he replied.

“But you carry yourself like a man who’s seen death up close.”

He said nothing.

Aria stepped closer. “Have you ever killed someone?”

He didn’t blink. “Yes.”

“For money?”

“Yes.”

She stared at him. “So why protect me?”

He looked at her then—not at her beauty, not at her pain—but at her eyes.

“You don’t want protection,” he said. “You want war.”

She exhaled slowly. “Then be my sword.”

He didn’t answer.

But he stayed.

⸻

The next day, Aria invited Lily for tea.

Her sister arrived in her usual pastel dress, eyes wide with innocence. The same innocence she wore while stealing, lying, and framing her.

“Aria!” Lily squealed, hugging her. “I missed you!”

“I missed you too, Lily,” Aria replied, smiling.

They sipped tea under the veranda. Aria served her sister lemon pastries—the kind she liked—and offered her the necklace she once gifted her in her past life.

Lily gasped. “This is the sapphire drop pendant! You kept it?”

“Of course,” Aria said softly. “It always suited you better.”

Lily giggled, putting it on.

She had no idea that necklace would later serve as evidence in her downfall.

“Damien told me you’ve been so strong lately,” Lily said, stirring her tea. “I’m glad you’re doing better. After Grandpa, I was really worried…”

“Were you?” Aria asked gently.

“Of course!” Lily pouted. “You know how much I care about you.”

Aria reached out and touched her hand. “I believe you.”

Later that night, she sent a voice recorder to her investigator—disguised inside a teddy bear. The bear now sat in Lily’s car.

Let her talk freely.

The snake always slithered when it thought no one was watching.

⸻

Three days later, the audio arrived.

She listened to it with Lucien in the room.

It started light—Lily calling a friend, complaining about the tea being too bitter, about Aria being “so boring now.”

Then it shifted.

“I can’t believe she gave me the necklace back. Stupid girl. Damien says we only need a few more months before she signs over the Alvene stocks. Then we’re done pretending.”

Aria’s hand clenched into a fist.

“She doesn’t even know I was the one who switched her meds last time. God, it was so easy. Mom said if we make her look unstable again, we can have her committed.”

Pause.

“I swear, if I have to hug her one more time, I’ll puke.”

The recording ended.

Silence settled.

Lucien spoke first.

“You’re going to destroy them.”

“I’m going to bury them alive,” Aria whispered.

She turned to him. “But I need to move quickly. My father’s pushing the board to transfer my shares. They think I’m still grieving. That I’m weak.”

“Do you have a plan?”

She looked at him, a gleam in her eyes.

“I need a public scandal. Something they can’t spin. And I need someone who can ensure it doesn’t get erased.”

Lucien folded his arms. “And what do I get in return?”