CHAPTER 5: KYLE'S FIRST VISIT

The silence of the Blake dining room was so thick it felt like a physical object. The morning sun streamed through the massive windows, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air above the polished mahogany table. I sat across from Damien, picking at a piece of toast while he read the financial section of a newspaper that looked like it cost more than my weekly groceries. Our conversation at breakfast was as mechanical as the grandfather clock in the corner.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked, not looking up from his paper.

"Fine." The lie felt heavy on my tongue. I had barely slept, haunted by fragmented memories and the mysterious message from the night before. "You?"

"Productively." He turned a page, a crisp sound in the quiet room. "I trust Margaret got you everything you need?"

"Yes, thank you."

We were back to being strangers, the brief moment of shared vulnerability in my bedroom having been swallowed by the immense house and the new day's routine. I almost preferred it this way. It was safer.

The doorbell rang, a long, melodic chime. Margaret appeared from the hallway. "I'll get that, Mr. Blake."

Damien finally looked up, his brow furrowed in a slight frown. "We weren't expecting anyone this morning."

A few moments later, a voice I knew all too well echoed from the foyer, loud and confident. "It's just me! Didn't want to come empty-handed!"

Kyle. My heart seized in my chest. He was here, now, in this house, and I wasn't ready.

He strode into the dining room, holding a bouquet of bright red roses, a stark contrast to the elegant white ones from yesterday. He was wearing a soft cashmere sweater, his smile warm and familiar. "Aria! I couldn't just let you go without a proper congratulations. Hope you don't mind the surprise."

His gaze slid past me to Damien, and the smile tightened, becoming a predatory thing that didn't reach his eyes. "Blake. Didn't think you'd mind me stopping by. Just a quick visit for my best friend."

Damien slowly lowered his newspaper, his expression a careful mask of polite indifference. "On our first morning as a married couple, no less. How… thoughtful."

"Thoughtful? It's just what friends do." Kyle set the roses down on the table, their cheap, garish color looking out of place among the antique silver. He pulled a chair out and sat down without being invited, his scent—a familiar, citrusy cologne—filling the air. It was a scent that had been a part of my life for so long it felt like my own. It was the scent of safety. Of being saved.

The scent of his cologne triggered an old memory, a hazy flashback from high school. We were at the mall, and I was excited to meet up with my friend Sarah to see a movie.

"Hey, where's Sarah?" I asked, looking for her at the food court entrance.

"Oh, she texted me," Kyle said, a flash of something in his eyes. "She said she got sick. Stomach bug. Bummer, right?"

"Oh." My disappointment must have shown on my face. "Yeah. I guess we can just see it some other time."

"Or we could just hang out." He smiled his charming smile. "Just the two of us. We always have the most fun, anyway, right?"

I remember feeling a pang of guilt, and a small voice in my head saying, "He's right. He's always there for you." I nodded, and we went to a different movie, just the two of us. Later, I'd find out Sarah had never texted him. She'd been waiting for me, and had eventually given up, hurt and confused.

"Aria, you look pale." Kyle’s voice cut through the memory, his hand reaching across the table to touch mine. "Are you feeling all right? I told you that contract was a terrible idea."

I pulled my hand back instinctively. "I'm fine, Kyle."

"He's using you," he whispered, leaning in close. "You know that, right? He just needed a mother for his baby, someone with a clean background. He's buying you."

"Aria is perfectly aware of the terms of our arrangement," Damien said, his voice quiet but sharp, like a shard of glass. "I believe you're the one who convinced her of its necessity."

"I saved her. I did what I had to do." Kyle leaned back, his smile not wavering. "She was drowning, Blake. I just gave her a life raft."

"A life raft with a very high interest rate, it seems," Damien countered, folding his newspaper and placing it neatly on the table.

The two men stared at each other, the polite facade cracking to reveal the seething hatred beneath. I felt caught in the middle, a bone between two dogs, one of whom I'd spent my entire life thinking was my protector.

"You should leave, Morrison." Damien’s voice was low and dangerous.

"Right. You're married now." Kyle stood, his gaze fixed on me. "But remember what I said, angel. You're mine first. You saved me. He's just buying you. And when he's done, I'll be here. Waiting."

He walked over to me, and to my horror, kissed me on the cheek. His lips were cold, possessive, a brand on my skin that felt like a violation. Then he was gone, the sound of the front door closing echoing through the vast house.

The silence that followed was suffocating. I looked at Damien, but he was staring at the doorway where Kyle had stood, his face a mask of cold fury.

"He's a liar, Aria," he said, his voice hoarse.

I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe that the boy I had spent years of my life with was not the manipulative, possessive monster Damien had just called him. But a small, terrifying voice inside me, one I hadn't heard in years, was whispering that maybe, just maybe, I had been wrong about everything.

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