Chapter 5 CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 5

Protecting Her.

Cassian Kent.

The call from Harrison came at seven in the morning when I was still in my home office and nursing my second cup of coffee and trying not to think about the way Aria had looked at me yesterday in that hallway, trapped between me and the wall with her eyes dark and her breathing shallow and her body responding to mine despite every reason she had to hate me.

"Mr. Kent, I need to discuss some concerns about your stepbrother's will," Harrison said, and his voice carried that careful professional tone that meant trouble was coming.

I set down my coffee cup and pulled up Richard's will documents on my computer even though I knew every word by heart, especially the sections I had modified to trap Aria exactly where I needed her. "What concerns?"

"There are some inconsistencies in the formatting and metadata that suggest certain sections were added or modified after the initial drafting," Harrison said, and I could hear papers rustling on his end. "Specifically, the clauses regarding Miss Hartwell's employment conditions and the one-year term requirement appear to have different timestamps than the rest of the document."

My hand tightened on the phone and I forced my voice to remain steady and controlled. "Richard made several revisions in those final months and he was very specific about what he wanted, so it is possible that he made changes to the document that were not properly logged by his assistant."

"I understand that," Harrison said, and he sounded relieved that I had a reasonable explanation. "But protocol requires that I verify these changes with someone who can confirm Mr. Hartwell's intentions, and since you were his most trusted advisor and stepbrother and the executor of his estate, I wanted to confirm with you directly."

"Richard discussed those exact terms with me extensively in the weeks before his death," I said, and the lie came easily after months of practice. "He was concerned about Aria's readiness to take on leadership responsibilities and he wanted to ensure she had proper guidance and structure, which is why he implemented the one-year co-CEO arrangement with such specific conditions."

It was not entirely a lie because Richard had been concerned about Aria's safety and had asked me to protect her, but he had never said anything about forcing her to work beside me for a year or about creating conditions that would trap her under my control. Those modifications were entirely my doing and born of desperation and possessiveness and the terrible knowledge that the moment Aria inherited freely, she would sell her shares and disappear from my life forever.

"And you can verify that Mr. Hartwell specifically outlined these conditions including the office proximity requirements and the joint decision-making mandates?" Harrison asked.

"Absolutely," I said firmly. "Richard was very clear about wanting Aria and me to work closely together and he believed that physical proximity and forced collaboration would help Aria develop the skills she needed while also ensuring the company remained stable during the transition period."

"That is exactly what I needed to hear," Harrison said with audible relief. "As long as you can verify that these were your stepbrother's explicit wishes and not posthumous modifications, that should satisfy any questions from the board or from Miss Hartwell's legal representatives should she choose to contest the terms."

The mention of Aria contesting the terms made my stomach twist because I knew she had every right to fight a will I had doctored, but I also knew she needed that inheritance desperately even if she did not know I was aware of her situation. "Aria has not expressed any intention to contest the will."

"Not yet," Harrison said carefully. "But given the unusual nature of the terms and the fact that she stands to lose everything if she fails to complete the year, it would not surprise me if she sought legal counsel at some point."

We wrapped up the call with Harrison satisfied that the will's inconsistencies were simply the result of last-minute revisions by a dying man, and I sat in my home office afterward and stared at the documents on my screen and felt the weight of my deception pressing down on my chest like a physical thing.

I had lied to Harrison and I had lied to the board and most importantly I had lied to Aria, and every day that passed added another layer to the web of deception I had woven around Richard's final wishes. I told myself it was for her protection and that Richard would have wanted me to keep her safe and that trapping her beside me was the only way to ensure whoever killed my stepbrother could not get to his daughter next, but the truth was darker and more selfish than that.

I wanted her and I had wanted her for years, long before that night at the gala when I finally gave myself permission to have her, and the forged will was not just about protection but about possession. I needed her close where I could watch her and guard her and slowly break down the walls between us until she saw me as something other than the enemy, and I was willing to lie and manipulate and alter my dead stepbrother's legal documents to make that happen.

The guilt was eating me alive but I would do it again in a heartbeat because the alternative was losing her completely, and that was not something I could survive.

I arrived at the office an hour later and tried to focus on work and on the merger proposal that needed my attention and on anything except the way Aria had felt pressed against that wall yesterday with my hand on her hip and her body swaying toward mine despite her protests. But focusing was impossible when I could see her through the glass walls of our connected offices and when every movement she made drew my attention like a magnet.

She was tense today and more than usual, her shoulders looked tight and her movements were jerky and distracted, and she kept checking her phone with an expression that made my protective instincts show itself. Something was wrong and she refused to tell me what it was.

I watched as she answered her phone and her face went pale and her hand shook slightly as she gripped it, and then she hung up quickly and looked around like she was checking to make sure no one had overheard. The fear in her expression made something cold settle in my gut because Aria was many things but she was not easily frightened, and whatever was happening was serious enough to terrify her.

I stood and moved toward the shared conference room that connected our offices and knocked on her door, and she looked up with wide eyes and quickly composed her expression into something neutral and professional.

"Do you have a minute?" I asked as I entered without waiting for permission.

"I am busy," she said, and her voice was tight and strained. "Can this wait?"

"No," I said, and I closed the door behind me and moved to sit in the chair across from her desk. "We need to talk about what is going on with you."

"Nothing is going on," she said automatically, but her eyes darted to her phone and then back to me.

"You are lying," I said flatly. "You have been distracted and jumpy, and you are constantly checking your phone and yesterday someone was calling you repeatedly during the board meeting and you looked terrified, so stop pretending everything is fine and tell me what is happening."

"It is none of your concern," she said, and her chin lifted in that stubborn way that meant she was preparing to dig in her heels and refuse to budge.

"Everything about you is my concern," I said, and the possessiveness in my voice was impossible to hide. "We are partners and if something is threatening you then I need to know about it."

"Why?" she demanded. "So you can fix it? Control it? Add it to your list of things you manage in my life?"

The accusation stung even though she had no idea how accurate it was, and I felt my jaw tighten with guilt and frustration. "I am trying to help you."

"I do not need your help," she said, and her voice cracked slightly on the last word and betrayed the fear beneath her anger. "I can handle my own problems."

"Can you?" I leaned forward and braced my elbows on my knees. "Because from where I am sitting, it looks like whatever you are dealing with is getting worse and you are running out of options, and if you would just trust me for five seconds and tell me what is wrong, maybe I could actually do something about it."

She opened her mouth to respond and then her phone buzzed on the desk between us, and I watched as she grabbed it and looked at the screen and all the color drained from her face. Her hands started shaking and she set the phone down as if it burned.

"Aria," I said, and my voice was gentler now because something was very wrong. "What is it? What did that message say?"

"Nothing. It is nothing."

But it was not nothing and we both knew it, and as I sat there watching her try to compose herself and hide whatever had just terrified her, I made a decision. I was going to find out what was threatening Aria and I was going to eliminate it. I did not care what lines I had to cross or what rules I had to break to keep her safe. Even if it meant she would never forgive me for any of it.