When the World Tilts**
The last thing Aria heard was the metallic click of the doorknob turning—slow, deliberate, terrifying. Her heart thrashed like it wanted to tear through her ribs and run ahead of her. The baby whimpered in her arms, his small fingers clutching her sweater desperately.
But the world suddenly dimmed.
Her vision blurred at the edges.
Her breath thinned into threads.
"No, no… not now," she tried to whisper, but the thought never made it to her lips.
The room spun—walls melting into streaks of white and silver—and her knees buckled. She tightened her grip around the baby one last time before the world tilted entirely.
And then everything went black.
She didn't feel herself hit the ground.
When consciousness returned, it wasn't gentle.
Someone was shaking her—softly at first, then harder.
"Miss Aria? Miss Aria, wake up! Please wake up!"
The voice was female, frantic, trembling.
Aria's eyelids fluttered open. Her vision swam before settling into the terrified face of Lila, the family maid who had practically helped raise her. Lila's eyes, usually warm and patient, were wide with fear.
Aria tried to sit up, but her body felt heavy, uncooperative.
"What… what happened?" she breathed.
"You fainted on the foyer floor." Lila supported her by the shoulders, lifting her gently. "I found the door slightly open and—" Her voice cracked. "—and you lying here. And the baby too."
Aria's heart lurched.
The baby.
Her eyes flew to her right—and relief washed over her so intensely she nearly collapsed again. The baby lay beside her, wrapped in a blanket, blinking up at the ceiling with innocent curiosity.
"He—he's okay?" Aria whispered.
"Yes, he's perfectly fine." Lila's hands shook as she adjusted the blanket around him. "But Miss Aria, whose baby is this? And why—why were you holding him at the door?"
Aria's throat closed up.
Questions. Questions she had no answers to.
Her muscles trembled as she forced herself upright. The foyer was a mess—papers scattered across the floor, the envelope half-crumpled, the sticky note lying a few feet away. The DNA report peeked out from beneath a bootprint made of melted snow.
Someone had stepped inside.
Someone had been in her house.
Her skin prickled.
"Lila… did you see anyone?" Aria whispered.
Lila shook her head. "No. The door was open, but no one was around. I thought maybe you… you fell while trying to bring the baby in." She paused, frowning at the papers. "What is all this?"
Aria's blood chilled. She couldn't tell Lila—not yet. Not until she understood. Not until she knew who to trust.
"I… I don't know," Aria lied, pulling the papers into her lap. Her hands trembled as she gathered them, trying to hide the DNA report before Lila could read more than the heading.
But Lila's eyes had already caught something.
"You're the… mother?" she whispered, confused. "Miss Aria… is this some kind of prank?"
Aria swallowed hard. "It's not a prank."
"Then what is—"
A sudden violent pounding on the front door shattered the moment.
Both women flinched.
Lila let out a gasp and clutched the back of the couch. "Who could that be at this hour?"
Aria's entire body went cold.
The pounding came again. Louder. Impatient.
She grabbed the baby instinctively, pulling him close to her chest.
"It might be the same people as before," Aria whispered.
"People? What people?" Lila looked pale.
Aria shook her head. "I— I don't know. I fainted before I could see them."
Lila's breath hitched. Without another word, she grabbed Aria's arm and helped her to her feet.
"We'll go to the kitchen," Lila whispered urgently. "There's a back door."
But before they took a single step, a deep voice boomed from the outside—
"Aria Sterling, open the door. We need to confirm the child's safety."
Lila froze. Her grip on Aria's arm tightened painfully. "The child's safety? How do they know a baby is here?"
Aria's mind spiraled.
"Go," she whispered. "Lila, take us to the kitchen. Now."
They rushed down the hallway, Lila supporting Aria with one arm and shielding the baby with the other. The baby whimpered, sensing the tension crackling through the air like electricity.
Behind them, the knocking intensified—rapid and forceful now, like the intruders no longer cared about hiding their urgency.
Aria felt faint again, but she forced herself to stay conscious, to hold the baby tighter.
When they reached the kitchen, Lila tried the back door.
Locked.
She fumbled for the key hanging on a hook, hands shaking, breath uneven. "My God… my God…"
"Hurry," Aria urged.
As Lila tried to fit the key into the lock, Aria heard it again.
Footsteps.
But not from outside.
From inside the house.
Somewhere down the hallway.
Slow, steady footsteps.
Coming closer.
Her blood ran ice cold.
"Lila," Aria whispered, voice breaking, "someone's already inside."
Lila's eyes widened in horror as the footsteps approached—measured, unhurried, confident.
Aria clutched the baby so tightly he let out a startled cry.
Then—
A shadow appeared on the kitchen's doorway wall.
Tall.
Broad-shouldered.
Still.
A man's silhouette.
Lila whimpered and backed up against the counter. "Oh God."
Aria stepped back too, shielding the baby with her body, every instinct screaming.
The shadow didn't move.
Didn't speak.
Didn't breathe.
It simply waited.
As if listening to their fear.
As if savoring it.
Then—
Slowly—
He stepped into the kitchen.
Aria's breath shattered in her chest.
He wasn't wearing a uniform.
He wasn't from the police.
He wasn't from any agency she knew.
He was dressed in black—head to toe—with a hood partially shadowing his face. But even in the dim kitchen light, Aria caught a flash of something deadly in his expression. Something cold and resolute.
His eyes flicked to the baby.
And something darkened in them.
"Give him to me," the stranger said quietly. Too quietly. Too calm. Too sure.
Aria's entire body shook.
"No," she whispered.
His gaze sharpened.
And he took a step forward.
Just as—
The front door burst open with a crash—and someone else shouted her name.
To be continued…