Aria didn't sleep.
She paced her room, phone in hand, irritation clawing at her chest. Finally, she typed.
Aria:Have you reached home?
The message delivered.
No reply.
Across the city, the night was loud.
Music pounded through the club Ron had dragged Kaya into—lights flashing, bodies moving, chaos everywhere. Ron was in his element, laughing too easily, glass after glass appearing in his hand.
Too many glasses.
Kaya noticed it first.
"Ron," she leaned closer, raising her voice over the music, "slow down."
"I'm fine," he waved her off, but his smile was strained now. His skin felt too warm. His collar suddenly unbearable.
Something was wrong.
A waiter brushed past. Too close. A drink swap so smooth it almost didn't exist.
Almost.
Minutes later, Ron's breath hitched.
Heat flooded his veins—unnatural, sharp, invasive. His vision blurred at the edges.
"Shit," he muttered under his breath.
He knew this feeling.
Aphrodisiac.
Controlled panic kicked in. Ron didn't hesitate. He slipped away from the crowd, down the hall, into one of the private rooms, slamming the door behind him.
Darkness. Silence. Heavy breathing.
Hands touched him.
He froze.
A woman stepped closer, her face hidden in shadow. Her fingers slid over his chest, confident, claiming.
"No," he said sharply, grabbing her wrists. "Get off."
She didn't.
She pushed him back instead, lips brushing his jaw, too deliberate, too planned. The drug burned hotter, muddling instinct and control.
Ron turned his face away, teeth clenched, fighting it.
"Stop," he growled.
But the room spun. Heat drowned thought. His resistance faltered—not because he wanted it, but because the drug was winning.
He kissed her back.
Hard.
Desperate.
Like a man clawing for air.
The world narrowed to sensation—too much, too fast. Somewhere between control slipping and instinct roaring, breath ragged.
The night was spent rumbling with moans,kisses and panting.
Whoever she was—
This wasn't chance.
This was a setup.
Meanwhile, Aria stared at her phone.
Still no reply.
Her jaw tightened.
"Lucien," she muttered to herself, anger simmering, "you better be right about your friend."
Because if not—
Someone was going to regret tonight.
Morning light crept through Aria's curtains.
She reached for her phone without thinking.
Her message to Kaya—Have you reached home?—still unread.
Her stomach tightened.
She typed again.
Aria:Let's meet today at my bakery. I want to talk about Lucien… and the marriage.
The message was read instantly.
A reply followed just as fast.
Kaya:Will be there at 4 p.m.
Aria exhaled. Relief, thin but real.
The bakery smelled like sugar and warmth—her safe place.
She tied her apron, letting muscle memory take over. Measuring. Mixing. Pouring. Baking. The world made sense here. No powerful men. No games. Just flour under her nails and heat from the oven.
She made cupcakes—soft, golden, perfect.Tried a new chocolate filling.Brewed hot chocolate the way Kaya liked it—extra cocoa, barely sweet.
For a while, everything was okay.
She checked the clock.
4:30 p.m.
Aria frowned.
"Traffic," she muttered.
She texted.
No read receipt.
She called.
Ringing.No answer.
At 5:00 p.m., the cupcakes had cooled. The chocolate had gone untouched.
Aria wiped her hands slowly on her apron.
This wasn't Kaya.
She called again. Straight to ringing. No pickup.
Her chest tightened as she dialed their friends—one by one.
No one had seen Kaya.No one had heard from her.
That quiet panic—the kind that doesn't scream yet—settled in.
Aria grabbed her bag, locked the bakery, and stepped outside.
Enough waiting.
Kaya's building looked normal.
Too normal.
Aria climbed the stairs two at a time, heart pounding now, breath shallow. She knocked.
Once.
Twice.
No answer.
She knocked harder. "Kaya. Open the door."
Nothing.
She knocked again, louder this time.
Still nothing.
Aria frowned. Kaya never ignored her knocks.
She tried the handle.
Unlocked.
Her heart skipped.
She pushed the door open carefully.
"Kaya?"
The apartment was quiet.
Too quiet.
Kaya's shoes were near the door. Her bag was on the chair. The curtains were half open, sunlight spilling across the room. Everything looked… normal.
Except Kaya wasn't there.
Aria stepped inside slowly, scanning the space.
The bedroom was untouched.The kitchen clean.No signs of struggle. No mess.
Aria swallowed hard.
"Kaya, this isn't funny," she said, louder now.
No response.
She pulled out her phone again and called.
Ringing echoed faintly—from somewhere inside the apartment.
Aria followed the sound.
The phone was on the bedside table.
Face down.
Silent.
Aria's fingers curled into a fist.
Kaya never went anywhere without her phone.
Never.
A cold, sharp fear settled in her chest.
This wasn't traffic.
This wasn't delay.
This was disappearance.
Aria stood in the middle of the room, breathing slowly, forcing herself not to panic.
Then one name surfaced in her mind.
Lucien.
Her jaw tightened.
"If this has anything to do with you," she whispered to the empty room, "you're going to regret ever noticing us."
She turned and walked out, locking the door behind her.
This time—
She wasn't asking questions.
Aria didn't wait for an invitation.
She walked straight into Lucien's company like fury had a name and it was hers.
The receptionists froze. The employees went quiet. No one stopped her.
Lucien looked up from his desk when the door opened.
Surprise flashed across his face—real this time.
"Aria?" he said slowly. "What are you doing here?"
She didn't sit. She didn't breathe properly.
"Where is Kaya?"
The room went still.
Lucien straightened. "What do you mean?"
"She never came home," Aria snapped. "She didn't come to meet me. Her phone is at her house. So I'll ask again—where is she?"
Lucien's expression hardened. Confusion replaced irritation.
"I haven't done anything to her," he said firmly.
Aria laughed—sharp, humorless."Why should I trust you? You never liked her."
Lucien didn't deny it.
"That's true," he said calmly. "I never liked her. She was always between us."
That was enough.
Aria's eyes burned. Her hands trembled at her sides.
"So that means you did do something to her," she shot back. "You wanted her out of the way."
Lucien stood up slowly now, voice dropping."Careful."
She stepped closer instead.
"You better understand something, Lucien," Aria said, anger shaking her voice but not breaking it. "If anything has happened to my friend—anything—I will never let you breathe peacefully."
Silence.
Heavy. Dangerous.
Lucien stared at her, jaw tight. "I swear to you," he said, slower now, "I have nothing to do with Kaya's disappearance."
Aria didn't listen.
She turned sharply and walked out of his office, rage carrying her through the halls.
She didn't look back.
The police station was cold. Bright. Impersonal.
Aria filed the complaint with steady hands and a shattered heart.
Missing person.Last seen the previous night.No contact since.
On the other side of the city—
Ron woke up with a splitting headache.
The hotel room was a mess. Sheets twisted. Pillows on the floor. His shirt hung off the edge of the bed like it had been thrown there in a hurry.
He sat up slowly, rubbing his temples, hair a disaster, body heavy with exhaustion and something darker—unease.
His phone buzzed.
Lucien.
Ron frowned and picked it up. "Yeah?"
Lucien's voice on the other end was cold. Sharp. No patience left."Where the hell is Kaya?"
Ron blinked, still foggy. "What?"
"Don't play stupid," Lucien snapped. "Where. Is. She."
It took a second for the words to sink in.
Ron sat up straighter. "Didn't she go home?" he said slowly. "She left before me. Did she not?"
"That's the problem, Ron," Lucien said. "She didn't."
Silence.
Ron's chest tightened.
"She hasn't come home since last night," Lucien continued. "Aria came to my company looking for her."
Ron ran a hand through his hair, panic creeping in fast. "What? No—that doesn't make sense."
Lucien's voice dropped, dangerous now."Did you touch her?"
Ron's breath hitched. "No," he said immediately. "I didn't."
A pause.
"I'll tell you everything," Ron added quickly. "But not on the phone. Come to my office."
Lucien didn't hesitate.
"Okay," he said.
The call ended.
Ron stared at the blank screen for a long moment, heart pounding.
Something was very wrong.
And for the first time since the game began—
Even Ron felt it slipping out of control.
By evening, Aria was back at Kaya's house.
Waiting.
Hours passed.
The sun dipped low. Streetlights flickered on. Neighbors came and went.
But Kaya didn't.
Aria sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the door, phone clenched in her hand like a lifeline.
Nothing.
No calls.No messages.No footsteps.
Night fell completely.
Aria finally leaned back against the wall, exhaustion hitting her all at once. Her anger had nowhere to go now—only fear remained.
"This is my fault," she whispered to the empty room. "I shouldn't have let you out of my sight."
Outside, the city kept moving.
Inside, Aria waited.
And somewhere out there—
The game had gone far beyond control.
Aria reached home well past midnight.
Her body ached. Her head throbbed. Her eyes burned from holding in too much for too long.
The moment she stepped inside, voices hit her.
Excited. Busy. Loud.
Suitcases were open in the living room. Clothes everywhere. Her mother was folding dresses with sharp efficiency. Her aunt was arguing about shoes. Someone was on the phone talking about flight timings.
Italy.
The word floated in the air like a celebration.
Aria dropped her bag.
"What's going on?" she asked hoarsely.
Her mother looked up, annoyed. "What does it look like? We're packing. The wedding is in a week."
Aria froze.
She swallowed hard. "Stop."
No one listened.
"Stop!" she snapped, louder now.
Hands paused. Faces turned.
"Kaya is missing," Aria said, voice shaking despite herself. "She hasn't come home since last night. No calls. No messages."
Silence.
Then her mother sighed—irritated, not worried.
"That girl again?" she said coldly. "Aria, enough. She was never a good influence."
Aria stared at her. "She's my best friend."
"And we never liked her," her mother replied sharply. "Always hanging around, always in trouble. If she disappeared, that's her problem."
Aria's chest tightened. "How can you say that? She could be hurt."
Her mother slammed a suitcase shut."This marriage is happening," she said firmly. "Italy is booked. Guests are invited. Nothing is being torn apart because of some girl."
Aria laughed—broken, disbelieving."So I'm just supposed to forget her?"
"Yes," her mother snapped. "Stop talking about her and pack your bags."
Something inside Aria cracked.
"She's missing," Aria said, tears finally spilling. "And you're talking about dresses?"
Her mother's voice turned hard."You will not ruin this marriage. You will not embarrass this family. And you will not delay everything for someone who was never worthy of your friendship."
Aria shook her head slowly.
"No," she whispered.
Her mother scoffed. "What?"
"I won't go," Aria said, voice steadier now. "I won't marry anyone. Not until Kaya comes back."
The room erupted.
Voices rose. Accusations flew. Someone called her selfish. Someone else called her dramatic.
But Aria didn't hear them anymore.
She backed away slowly, heart pounding, eyes burning—not with tears now, but with resolve.
"If something happens to her," she said quietly, deadly calm, "none of you will ever forgive yourselves."
She turned and walked to her room, shutting the door behind her.
Inside, Aria sank to the floor, hugging her knees.
For the first time—
She understood.
She was alone in this.
And she would have to fight for Kaya herself.
Aria finally broke.
She buried her face in her hands and cried—quietly at first, then harder, shoulders shaking as everything she'd been holding back crashed down on her at once. Anger. Fear. Guilt. The image of Kaya's empty apartment burned behind her closed eyes.
"I should've stayed," she whispered. "I should've never let you go."
Minutes passed. Maybe more.
Then the crying stopped.
Not because the pain was gone—but because something else replaced it.
Resolve.
Aria wiped her face slowly, stood up, and walked to the mirror. Her eyes were red, but there was fire in them now. Focus.
Lucien.
The thought settled in her mind like a decision already made.
He knows something, she thought. Or he's hiding someone who does.
Her fingers curled into fists.
"If I marry that idiot," she whispered to herself, voice steady, "I can get close. I can watch him. I can dig."
She paced the room, thinking fast now. Controlled.
"I'll play nice," she muttered. "Smile. Agree. Be cooperative."
A bitter smile tugged at her lips."Men like him always get careless when they think they've won."
She stopped at the window, staring out into the night.
"I'll stay on his good side," she said softly. "I'll listen. I'll observe. And the moment I find something—anything—I'll tear it apart."
Her voice broke just a little as she whispered the last words.
"Kaya… don't worry."
She pressed her palm to the glass, as if distance could hear her.
"I'm coming to find you."
Behind her, suitcases waited.
Ahead of her—
A marriage built on lies, danger, and a promise she fully intended to break.