Chapter 18 18
AESON'S POV
I drew the curtain the moment I heard footsteps retreating down the hallway, forcing my hand away from the fabric even though every instinct urged me to keep watching. The temptation to follow her movement until she stepped beyond the gate was strong, stronger than I cared to admit, but I let the curtain fall shut anyway.
Too late.
My smirk lingered, slow and deliberate, because I knew she’d seen me. I’d caught the way her steps faltered, the slight lift of her chin, the awareness sliding into her posture like heat. She hadn’t looked back, but she’d known. Women always did.
I turned away from the window and walked back to my desk, the soles of my shoes echoing softly against the floor. The study felt different now. The same dark shelves lined with books I’d memorized decades ago. The same scent of aged wood and ink. The same weight of power pressing into the walls.
And yet something had shifted, subtle but undeniable, like a draft slipping through a sealed room.
I lowered myself into the chair, rolling my shoulders once as if that could shake the sensation off. It didn’t. My gaze drifted to the edge of the desk where sunlight pooled faintly, and for a heartbeat, all I saw was aqua eyes and dark hair catching the light.
Annoying.
I reached for a file, flipping it open, more out of habit than interest. The words blurred together, meaningless, until the door creaked open.
I didn’t look up immediately. I didn’t need to.
Jace’s presence had a way of announcing itself—measured steps, restrained curiosity. Still, when I lifted my eyes, I caught it. The brief flash of shock on his face before he masked it. He’d seen her too.
“The girl who just left with Mandy…” he trailed off, lingering by the door.
I hummed softly, eyes dropping back to the file as though he’d commented on the weather. “What about her?”
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he moved closer, the leather of his jacket whispering as he stopped near the desk. I could feel his stare on me, searching, testing. “Doesn’t she look familiar?”
I turned a page slowly. Too slowly. “Familiar how?”
“Remind you of someone?” he pressed.
I shook my head once, precisely. “Who?”
That was when I looked up.
Confusion crossed his face, raw and unfiltered, like he’d misstepped on ground he thought was solid. His brows knit together, his mouth parting slightly before closing again.
“I’ve met a lot of women,” I said calmly, tapping the edge of the file, “and discarded ones like her. I don’t keep the mental visuals of their faces in my head, Jace.”
He hesitated. I could see the calculation behind his eyes, the careful weighing of loyalty against curiosity. “But… she looked like…” He paused, breath hitching just slightly. Then he said it. “Serena.”
The name landed like a blade.
I stopped.
Not dramatically. Not enough for him to notice unless he knew me well. My fingers froze on the page, the air around us tightening almost imperceptibly as I lifted my gaze to him again.
“And who’s Serena?” I asked.
The flicker in his eyes was immediate. Shock, sharp and unguarded. That wasn’t the question he’d expected—not from me. He knew better than to challenge it, though. Knew better than to pry when I closed a door.
His shoulders eased back, the tension bleeding out of him. “Forget it. I think I’ll just step out… my bad.”
I watched him leave without another word. The door shut softly behind him, the click of the latch echoing louder than it should have.
My lips curled.
Slowly, my gaze drifted back to the window, as though she might still be there if I looked hard enough. As though the curtain might part on its own and reveal her standing just beyond the glass.
Arielle.
The name tasted different now. Sharper. Heavier.
She definitely looked like Serena. The resemblance wasn’t exact—no, it was worse than that. It was in the eyes. The tilt of her chin. The quiet defiance in the way she carried herself, like the world owed her answers and she’d tear them out if it didn’t comply.
There was no doubt she was connected to her.
And if that was true…
I leaned back in my chair, fingers steepled, the corner of my mouth lifting as something dark and pleased unfurled in my chest.
Wasn’t this the goddess’s way of granting me what I sought?
Revenge.
It would be sweet. Slow. Deliciously cruel in its elegance. The kind that didn’t require bloodshed to leave scars.
That girl—Arielle—had unknowingly walked straight into a trap I hadn’t even considered setting.
Fate had done the work for me.
All was fair.
A knock interrupted my thoughts. Sharp. Tentative.
For a moment, I thought Jace had returned, curiosity getting the better of him. I straightened, already preparing to shut him down again.
But the door opened to reveal Mandy.
She stepped inside carefully, eyes flicking to my face as though gauging my mood. Her hands clasped in front of her, shoulders slightly hunched.
“I’m sorry, uncle, for bringing someone over,” she said softly. “I know you value your space more than anything.”
I said nothing.
The silence stretched. Her fingers twisted together. “If you don’t like her, I’ll ensure she doesn’t come when you’re around…”
“No. It’s fine.”
The words surprised even me.
Her head lifted, eyes widening. I met her gaze then, noting the confusion written plainly across her face.
“She’s your friend,” I added evenly. “Not a stranger I should be displeased with. She can come anytime she wishes.”
“Oh.” She blinked, clearly thrown off balance. “Okay…”
I leaned back in my chair, the leather creaking softly beneath me. “Why don’t you invite her for dinner tomorrow?”
“Huh?” She stared at me as though I’d spoken another language.
I watched the idea settle, watched her nod slowly. “Yeah. It would be nice?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
I offered a tiny smile—nothing more, nothing less—and she left without another word.
Perfect.