The mansion was unusually quiet when Aria stepped through the doors. Her heels clicked softly against the marble, echoing like heartbeats in an empty ballroom. She was humming, scrolling through her phone  her picture with Sky Adams already flooding the internet.

Trending again. Perfect.

She smiled to herself, unbothered, when a voice low, cold, and controlled — came from the staircase.

“Had fun?”

She froze for half a second before slowly looking up.

Damian Cross was standing at the top of the stairs — shirt sleeves rolled up, tie loose, eyes dark with restrained fury.

“Well,” she said casually, slipping her phone into her purse, “depends on your definition of...