Mia returned to the Lawrence mansion that evening, her steps slightly heavier than usual. The events at the hospital weighed on her mind the temporary stabilization of her mother, the staggering fees, and the encounter with Dallas and his unnerving offer. The words he had spoken lingered, curling like smoke around her thoughts.
She moved quietly through the grand halls, careful not to reveal anything, and tried to steady her racing heart. Her fingers fidgeted with the strap of her bag, her breathing slightly uneven, though she forced herself to keep her expression composed.
Aiden noticed immediately. He had been in his study, reviewing company reports, but his attention shifted the moment Mia stepped into the room. He didn't need to hear her voice to know something was wrong; her energy carried the weight of unease, subtle but unmistakable.
"Mia," he said softly, his tone calm but probing, "you've been quiet ever since you returned. What's wrong?"
Mia offered a polite smile, soft and measured, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Nothing," she said lightly, forcing casualness into her tone. "Just… tired."
Aiden's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, studying her. He could see the tension in the set of her shoulders, the way her hands kept brushing against her bag as if seeking some reassurance. His instincts told him that whatever she was hiding was significant, yet she wasn't ready to speak.
"Are you sure?" he asked again, more insistently this time, leaning forward slightly in his chair.
"I'm sure," she replied, her voice soft but steady. She tried to anchor herself in the calm exterior she had carefully cultivated. "Really. Don't worry about me."
Aiden studied her for a long moment, his gaze sharp but patient. He had learned enough about Mia to know when she was masking something serious. The faint furrow between her brows, the subtle tremble of her fingers, the hesitation in her voice they were all tiny cracks in the façade.
"I notice things," he said finally, a quiet warning laced into his tone. "Always. But… if you want to keep it to yourself for now, I'll respect that. For now."
Mia nodded, swallowing hard. She felt a pang of relief that he didn't press further, but her chest was heavy. The lie she had told herself to protect Aiden's concern gnawed at her. I can't tell him. Not yet. If he knew… he'd try to fix it, and I can't risk that. I have to handle this myself.
She sat down quietly across from him, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I just… have a lot on my mind," she said lightly, forcing a nonchalance she didn't feel. "I'll be fine. Really."
Aiden didn't reply immediately. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, eyes lingering on her, calculating. He didn't push further, sensing that pressing her might make her withdraw even more. Still, he couldn't ignore it. He knew her too well. Something was gnawing at her something serious enough that her usual composure was faltering.
Mia kept her gaze steady, but inside, her thoughts spun wildly. She replayed every moment from the hospital: the pale face of her mother, the doctor's grave words, the suffocating weight of knowing she couldn't pay for the surgery yet. And then… Dallas. The way he had appeared out of nowhere, his smirk, the smoothness of his words, the subtle way he made the offer feel like salvation wrapped in danger.
Her fingers clenched in her lap. I can't let Aiden know. He can't know. He would never let me take the risk. And I… I can't trust myself not to take it if I say no.
Aiden cleared his throat, breaking the swirl of her thoughts. "Mia…" he said gently. "I know something's bothering you. But you don't have to tell me now. I'll notice when you're ready."
She looked up at him, a twinge of guilt twisting her chest. How could she ever tell him that she was standing at the edge of a dangerous bargain to save her mother? How could she admit that someone like Dallas had offered her a lifeline, one that came with strings she wasn't sure she could survive?
"I… I appreciate that," she said softly, forcing another smile. "Really."
Aiden inclined his head slightly, eyes lingering on her a moment longer, and then returned to his work. Yet, the protective weight behind his gaze didn't leave. He had noticed the small tremors of worry in her movements, the tightness in her shoulders, the way her eyes flickered with something unspoken.
Mia exhaled quietly, leaning back in her chair. Alone with her thoughts, the storm inside her churned. She replayed Dallas' words, the promise of the money, the way he had made it feel so… necessary, so tempting. Her mother's life balanced precariously between her ability to act and the strings he was dangling in front of her.
And yet, she couldn't tell Aiden. Not now. He didn't need the weight of this, and she couldn't risk the danger of his interference.
For now, she would carry the burden alone, hiding her fear behind a polite smile and careful composure. But the storm was far from over, and she could feel it building, shadowing every step she took.