Chapter 22 Partnership
Like maybe they really were partners in this.
Like maybe they really could hold each other up.
After dinner, Lily disappeared to her room to work on some art project, leaving Ariella and Aiden alone in the informal living room.
“So,” Aiden said. “That was…”
“Weird.”
“Yeah.”
“But not terrible?”
“Not terrible,” he agreed.
They sat on opposite ends of a couch that could easily fit six people, with an ocean of expensive leather between them. The fireplace was on not for warmth but for ambiance, because apparently that was a thing rich people did.
“I should show you how everything works,” Aiden said. “The house, I mean. It’s confusing at first. There are like six thermostats and none of them make sense. And the shower in your bathroom has one of those stupid rainfall heads that…”
“Aiden.”
He stopped. “Yeah?”
“Are you okay? Actually okay?”
He was quiet for a long moment. Staring at the fire instead of her.
“My dad can’t get out of bed,” he said finally. “This morning he tried. He wanted to come down for breakfast, to see you, to pretend everything was normal. But he couldn’t. His legs wouldn’t hold him.” Aiden’s voice was flat. “Marcus had to call the doctor. They gave him more medication. Stronger stuff. He’s sleeping now but when he wakes up he’ll be even more confused. More disoriented.”
“How long?” Ariella asked quietly.
“They said weeks. Maybe a month. But seeing him today…” Aiden’s voice cracked. “I don’t think it’s that long. I think we’re measuring in days now.”
Ariella moved closer. Not touching, just reducing the ocean between them to something more like a river.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“Everyone’s sorry. Sorry doesn’t change anything.”
“No. But maybe you don’t have to be alone with it.”
Aiden looked at her finally. His eyes were devastated. “I don’t know how to do this. How to watch him die. How to be strong for Lily. How to pretend everything’s fine for the press and the company and…” He stopped. “How do you do it? After losing your brother? How do you just keep going?”
“I don’t know if I am keeping up. I think I’m just moving forward because stopping would mean falling apart completely.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only answer I have.”
They sat in silence for a while. The fire crackled. Outside, the rain had started again, soft and persistent against the windows.
“Can I tell you something?” Ariella said finally.
“Yeah.”
“I didn’t want to come here today. This morning, when I was packing, I almost didn’t. I almost called Marcus and said I changed my mind, that I couldn’t do it, that he could keep his money and his contract”
“What stopped you?”
“My mom. She was baking cinnamon rolls and trying not to cry, and I realized…she was losing me too. Not the same way as Ethan, but losing me anyway. To this place. To your world. To a life she can’t be part of.” Ariella’s throat felt tight. “And I came anyway. Because saving her mattered more than keeping myself intact.”
“That’s not fair to you.”
“Nothing about any of this is fair.”
“No.” Aiden was quiet for a moment. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For coming anyway. Even though you didn’t want to. Even though it cost you something.” He looked at her. “For not running away when you saw me fall apart this afternoon. Most people would have.”
“I’m not most people.”
“No. You’re not.”
Something shifted in the air between them. Not romantic, not yet, maybe not ever. But intimate in a different way. Like they were two people standing in the same storm, learning to share an umbrella.
Ariella’s phone buzzed. Her mother, asking how dinner went.
It was okay, she typed. Weird but okay. I’m settling in.
Are you safe?
Yeah, Mom. I’m safe.
Do you like him? Aiden?
Ariella glanced at Aiden. He was back to staring at the fire, looking exhausted and sad and somehow still trying.
I don’t know yet, she typed honestly. But I don’t hate him. That’s something.
That’s something, her mother agreed.
“Your mom?” Aiden asked.
“Yeah. Checking on me. Making sure I’m not being held hostage by billionaires.”
“Are you?”
“Technically yes. But it’s a voluntary hostage situation.”
“The best kind.”
They both smiled.
“I should go to bed,” Ariella said. “It’s been a really long day.”
“Yeah.” Aiden stood when she did. “If you need anything tonight…if the room is too cold or too quiet or just too much…”
“The connecting door.”
“The connecting door.”
They walked upstairs together. At the landing, they separated him going left to his suite, her going right to hers. But before she closed the door, she looked back.
He was standing in his doorway, watching her with an expression she couldn’t quite read.
“Goodnight, Aiden.”
“Goodnight, Ariella.”
She closed her door but didn’t lock the connecting one.
Just in case.
At 2:47 a.m., Ariella woke to the sound of screaming.
Not her own this time. Someone else’s.
She sat up, heart racing, trying to orient herself. The room was dark except for the light from the city filtering through the curtains. For a second, she forgot where she was. Then it all came rushing back the mansion, the contract, the performance that had become her life.