Lucien rarely trusted people.
But he trusted his intel.
And yet… everything about Aria Lin felt off. Too clean. Too empty. Like someone had gone through her past with a scalpel and removed the pieces that mattered.
He sat in his private office, a glass of scotch untouched beside him, eyes fixed on the screen in front of him.
"Bring up the Lin dossier," he told his security chief on the encrypted line.
"Already did, sir. Multiple times. But something's strange."
Lucien's brows drew together. "Explain."
"Her file's been accessed… recently. By someone high-level. Government clearance. Redactions were made after the original investigation into the Lin collapse."
Lucien's fingers tapped against the desk.
"Who's protecting her?"
Silence.
"We're still tracking it. But she's not just some forgotten heiress. She's insulated. Someone wanted her buried—but not gone."
Lucien leaned back in his chair.
A pattern was forming. He just couldn't see it yet.
Not fully.
He opened his drawer. Inside was a box—silver, slim, locked. It had belonged to Elias. After his death, Lucien had kept it sealed.
Now, for the first time, he pulled it open.
Inside:
– A photo of Elias and Aria's father, toasting something in a golden-lit ballroom.
– A napkin with a single scribbled phrase: "Never trust the one who watches in silence."
– A name: Aria Lin.
Lucien stared at it.
Elias had known her.
Not as a stranger.
As someone close.
"What the hell are you doing in my house, Aria?" he muttered.
He reached for his phone again.
"Double the surveillance. I want her followed inside and outside this estate. Every move. Every call. Every person she contacts. Quietly."
"Yes, sir. And if she notices?"
Lucien's voice dropped to ice.
"Then we'll see what she does when she knows she's being hunted."