Chapter 6 – Morning of Defiance
(Aria's POV)
The sun had barely risen, but its golden light poured through the towering windows of the Moretti mansion, striking the crystal chandeliers that hung like frozen rain above the dining room. The air smelled faintly of fresh flowers and polished mahogany, an intoxicating mix of wealth and perfection. Heavy, cream-colored curtains framed the room, cascading to the floor in elegant folds that rustled softly with the morning breeze. The marble floors gleamed so brightly they seemed to reflect my every anxious thought.
I shifted in my seat, my back still stiff from the night before. The memory of Lucien Moretti's water attack—the cold, sharp splash that had drenched me to the bone—was still fresh, sending a shiver down my spine. Somehow, despite being soaked, I had survived the night without completely losing my mind. Barely.
Across from me, he sat. Lucien Moretti. The very embodiment of everything terrifying and magnetic at once. His gray eyes were calm now, unreadable, but I could feel the storm coiled beneath that still exterior. His black suit clung perfectly to broad shoulders, the sleeves sharply tailored to his forearms. He sliced his food with precision, every motion smooth and deliberate, as if the air itself bent to his will.
I swallowed hard, trying to steady my voice. "Lucien… I need you to understand. I didn't do any of it," I said, gesturing vaguely at my trembling hands. "The money… the transfers… someone's using my identity. But it's not me. Please, give me time. I can figure out who did this. I swear."
He didn't even glance up. Not even once. His eyes stayed on his plate, tracing the edges of his food as if he were a predator studying prey, calm and deliberate.
I scoffed then continued.
"And also," I added, rolling my shoulders, "can you give me another place to sleep? The study… wasn't comfortable at all." I scoffed lightly, murmuring to myself, "My back kinda feels sore from the almighty Moretti's property."
Lucien froze mid-bite for a moment—just enough for me to see his jaw tense. Is he… annoyed? His gray eyes finally flicked toward me, sharp as a blade. What? His mind raced. She's… eating, complaining… like she's normal? A prisoner? Doesn't fear me?
I continued chewing peacefully, humming lightly, oblivious to the storm brewing across the table. "What? Is everything okay with you?" I asked innocently.
Lucien's jaw clenched. Who is she to not fear me? Everyone does… everyone shivers at the thought of crossing me… but her?
He slammed his hand on the table, The clatter made me flinch, but I refused to stop chewing. My fork clinked against the plate. What is wrong with this man?
"Aria…" he began, voice low and dangerous, but I didn't flinch. I was supposed to be scared. I should have been trembling, begging. But I… couldn't. I just… wasn't.
Instead, I shrugged and continued eating.
The cold fury in Lucien's chest surged. He snatched my plate and gestured for the maid to take it away. His own meal was quickly packed—he was done. What about me??? I'm not done!
"Heyyy! What is this?" I protested, holding my spoon mid-air. "I'm not even done yet!"
The maid froze, wide-eyed. My words—spoken casually, almost teasingly—must have sounded insane coming from someone in my position. He's… the almighty Lucien Moretti, I reminded myself. Everyone fears him… everyone obeys him… except me apparently.
I shrugged. "Fine. Do your thing. The food's not even good enough. I'll make my own."
And with that, I rose from the chair, my back protesting slightly as I stretched.
The room smelled of polished wood, fresh flowers, and something faintly metallic—money, power, danger—and I wondered how anyone could eat in such perfection and not feel trapped.
Lucien's gray eyes widened as he watched me walk away. What is wrong with this lady? he must have been thinking. Is she crazy? His hand curled into a fist, the veins along his forearm standing out sharply. He rose abruptly, his movement so sudden it startled the maid.
I didn't turn back. I didn't want to see that storm again. He's dangerous. He's scary. But… I have to stand my ground.
I padded toward the kitchen area, murmuring softly, "Breakfast really isn't even worth it." My stomach grumbled in protest, but I ignored it, focusing instead on collecting my thoughts. I didn't do this. Someone's using my identity. I know it.
Someone close to me? But who? My mind raced, listing every person who could have access to my accounts, my life, my habits.
Sitting at the counter, I began pouring some milk into a cup of cereal, my hands steady despite the adrenaline still coursing through me. If he gives me a chance, maybe… just maybe, I can find the real culprit. He needs to see that I'm not the criminal here. I can prove it.
Meanwhile, from somewhere behind me, I felt the faintest shift of movement—Lucien pacing, perhaps. I didn't look. I didn't need to. I could feel his presence like a shadow, dangerous and cold. His silence was oppressive, but it gave me space to think.
I muttered under my breath, more to myself than anyone else, "I'm not afraid of him… I just want the truth."