Serena Vaughn Died Once, But Arielle Kills Twice

The air between them was sharp.

Lucien stood like stone, but his voice trembled.

"Serena Vaughn? The heiress who vanished. Presumed dead. Accused of… murder?"

Arielle's pulse thundered.

She didn't flinch. "Yes."

"You lied to me."

"I survived."

The woman who came—the one in black—watched them like it was a stage show. "You really didn't tell him? The man who would kill for you?"

Lucien stepped forward. "Who the hell are you?"

"I'm the one who helped her fake her death," she purred. "I'm the reason she became Arielle Saint-Claire. My name doesn't matter. But hers? Oh, it matters to a lot of people."

Lucien's fists curled. "Start talking."

"No," Arielle cut in, voice firm. "I'll tell him."

She turned to Lucien. Her hands were cold. Her throat burned.

But it was time.

Ten Years Ago – The Vaughn Estate

She was Serena Vaughn, daughter of a billionaire tech mogul. Spoiled. Privileged. But alone.

Her father wasn't just rich he was corrupt. Ruthless. He traded lives for power.

And he planned to sell her off in marriage to a man twice her age for a merger deal.

Serena tried to run. Once. He broke her arm to make a point.

So she stopped running and started planning.

One night, she poisoned his wine.

She didn't kill him. But she left him paralyzed, silent, unable to tell the world what she did.

Then she burned the estate. Faked her death. Walked away.

And Serena Vaughn died in that fire.

Arielle Saint-Claire rose from the ashes.

A ghost with no past. No family. No attachments.

Until Lucien.

Back in the present, Lucien said nothing.

Just stared.

She whispered, "I didn't want you to know because I didn't want to need you."

"You think I care about a name?"

"I think you care about murder."

"You were a child."

"I was sixteen and I made a man stop breathing. You don't call that a child."

Lucien moved closer. "I call that survival."

His hand reached for her. She pulled back.

"No. You don't get to forgive me that easily."

"I'm not trying to forgive you," he growled. "I'm trying to understand you."

That undid her. Not his anger. Not his silence. His effort.

She sank into the couch, shaking.

The woman in black stepped forward again.

"You've made enemies by coming out of hiding, Serena. A lot of them. And the man who helped you back then?"

"What about him?" Arielle asked.

"He's been taken. And they're blaming you."

Meanwhile – Anonymous Basement Room

A man hung from chains. Blood dripped from his mouth.

He whispered, "She'll come for me."

A voice in the shadows laughed.

"Oh, we're counting on it."

Back to Lucien's Penthouse

The woman handed over a photo.

The man was older. Scars. Military eyes.

Arielle's knees buckled. "Victor…"

Lucien caught her before she fell.

"Who is he?" he asked.

"The one who taught me how to disappear. The one who trained me. He was my shadow."

Her voice cracked.

"He's the closest thing I had to a father after I burned the real one."

Lucien looked down at the photo, then at her. "Where is he being held?"

The woman smiled. "That's the fun part. He's being moved… tonight."

Arielle's eyes lit with fury.

"Then we're taking him back."

Two Hours Later – Underground Tunnel

Arielle wore black again. Like the girl she used to be. Knives hidden. Gun strapped to her thigh.

Lucien stood beside her. Dressed in silence and danger.

"You don't have to come," she whispered.

He touched her chin. "You're mine now. That includes your past."

Her heart almost broke from the weight of it.

They stormed the tunnel.

Blood spilled.

But they were shadows. Ghosts. Death with beautiful faces.

They found Victor. Alive. Barely.

Lucien held off the guards.

Arielle dropped to her knees and touched Victor's face. "I came."

He smiled through blood. "You always do, Serena."

Then he passed out.

---

Back in the Safehouse

Lucien stitched his own wounds. Arielle cleaned hers in the sink, jaw tight.

"He said your real name," Lucien said quietly.

"I hate it," she said. "But it's still mine."

"I'll only use it when I want to break you," he murmured.

She turned.

"What?"

Lucien walked to her, slowly. Eyes dark.

"You think I don't want the killer in you?" he whispered. "That part of you that burns and bites and survives?"

He leaned in. Pressed her against the wall.

"I want all of you. The poison and the passion."

She gasped.

He kissed her again.

This time, not to claim.

But to belong.