secrets written in ashes

The letter burned in Olivia's mind long after she locked it in her bedside drawer.

She didn't sleep. Not with her father's warning echoing over and over again.

Don't trust anyone around you. Especially not the one you married.

She stared at the ceiling, breathing shallow. Damon hadn't pressed her, hadn't asked what she thought of the note. He'd just gone back to his office, closed the door, and left her to spiral.

Which was, in its own way, more terrifying than if he had lied.

Because he let her doubt him.

Morning light bled through the glass windows in bruised streaks of grey and gold. She rose, pulled on dark jeans and a cashmere sweater, and quietly slipped out of the penthouse.

She needed answers.

And there was only one person left who still had a direct line to her father's secrets.

The Bennett Estate – Private Archives

The family mansion stood like a ghost against the hills, ivy crawling up its bones like veins of rot. Olivia hadn't stepped foot here since the funeral. Since they lowered Raymond Bennett into the earth under a rain-soaked sky and whispered false platitudes about legacy.

Now, she walked alone through the echoing hallways, ignoring the distant stares of the house staff who'd remained loyal to her father even in death.

She made her way to the restricted wing of the library—where Raymond kept his classified business dealings, estate records, and personal notes.

Only three people had access.

Her father. His personal assistant. And her.

She stepped inside and closed the heavy door behind her.

Dust danced through shafts of light, untouched shelves rising like cathedral walls. A scent of aged leather, paper, and secrets filled the air.

She started digging.

An hour later, she found it—wedged behind a false panel near the bottom shelf.

A small black ledger. No title. Just a faint emblem of the Bennett crest etched in the leather.

Inside: names, dates, coded transactions, and mentions of organizations she'd never heard of—Vespera Holdings, The Obsidian Circle, Crescent Exchange.

And one name that made her blood still.

Damon Cross.

More than once.

Beside his name were handwritten annotations in her father's sharp script.

"Useful asset. Dangerous bloodline. Knows more than he lets on."

"Contract should not include Olivia—unless absolutely necessary."

Her hands shook.

Her name appeared only once.

"If used, she must never find out the truth."

Used.

The word clanged inside her skull like a bell tolling doom.

Her father planned for Damon to marry her. As leverage. As strategy. As a goddamn pawn.

She snapped the book shut, heart pounding. If her father orchestrated this—if Damon knew—then what else was buried?

She needed to confront him.

And this time, she wasn't walking in blind.

Back at the Penthouse

She stormed through the front door just after dusk, eyes wild and hair wind-tossed from the drive.

Damon was in the study. Of course. Where he always was when the world burned.

She threw the ledger onto his desk.

His jaw tightened. "You went to the estate."

"You knew he planned this." Her voice cracked. "You knew, Damon."

He stood, slow and cold, like a beast uncoiling.

"I suspected," he said. "Not until after our engagement."

"Bullshit. There are records of you meeting with him years before that."

"Because I was already involved in the shadows of his empire. Long before you understood what kind of man your father really was."

"So you played me."

"No," he snapped. "He played both of us."

She flinched.

He circled the desk. "Your father pulled me in when I was young, ruthless, and desperate for power. He offered deals I couldn't refuse. Then he started dangling you like you were part of the price."

Olivia's stomach turned.

"And you just accepted that?"

"I fought him."

"Not hard enough," she spat.

Damon moved closer, fury simmering just beneath his skin. "You think I liked being told who to marry? That I wanted to use you?"

She faltered. Because no—she didn't believe he wanted this.

But it didn't matter anymore.

"Everything I thought I knew is a lie," she whispered.

Damon cupped her face, thumb brushing her cheek with shocking tenderness. "Then let's start over. With only the truth between us."

She hated how much she wanted to believe him.

"How do I know you're not just saying that to control me?"

His lips brushed her temple. "Because if I wanted to control you, Olivia, I'd never let you know how badly you could destroy me."

Later That Night

The air between them crackled with something fragile and molten.

She sat on the edge of the bed, watching him remove his cufflinks in silence. Her voice was small when it finally came.

"You're not the villain in this story, are you?"

He looked at her, eyes dark and unreadable. "Depends on who's writing it."

"You said you were already in my father's world long before me. What else did you do for him?"

He exhaled slowly. "The things that bought your father his empire weren't legal. And I was the one who handled most of it. Laundering, threat suppression, offshore moves."

"Why would you do that?"

"I owed him."

"For what?"

Damon looked away. "He saved my sister's life once."

Olivia stilled. "You have a sister?"

"Had." The word was sharp. Final. "She died five years ago. Leukemia. Your father paid for a treatment trial overseas when no one else would."

Something cracked in her chest.

So that was it. The debt.

"You loved her," she said softly.

"She was the only person who ever believed I wasn't a monster."

"And now?"

He met her eyes.

"Now I have to prove it to you."