Aria's POV
The conference room at Blackwood Tower buzzed with anticipation. Camera flashes exploded like fireworks as reporters jostled for position, their voices creating a wall of noise that pressed against my skull.
Noah was home. Safe. Sleeping in Damien's penthouse with the house keeper watching over him while we faced the media vultures one more time.
The FBI had insisted on this follow-up press conference. "Control the narrative," Agent Sarah had said. "Don't let speculation fill the gaps."
So here I was again, gripping another podium, with Damien beside me. Close enough that our shoulders almost touched.
"Ms. Monroe, is it true your son was kidnapped?" A reporter in the front row shouted, as if our recent dramatic confession hadn't already answered that question a hundred times over.
I opened my mouth, forcing myself to relive it one more time. My throat tightened with the memory of Noah's terrified face on that video call, even though he was safe now. Safe and home.
