The fire started just before dawn.

By the time Aria’s security alert went off, the warehouse holding Vale Interiors’ archived design files—ten years of sketches, blueprints, proprietary client work—was already engulfed in flames.

Dominic was at her apartment when the call came in. She’d just finished telling him everything.

About Nathan.

About the crash.

About the video.

About Hale.

And then the world started burning—literally.

He didn’t say I told you so.
He didn’t say Why didn’t you tell me?

He said, “Get dressed. We’re going now.”

They arrived as firefighters swarmed the block, choking black smoke painting the early morning sky. The building was unsalvageable. Aria’s name was on the lease, but the arson was too clean.

Too professional.

Sloane was already there, on the phone, shouting at someone federal. She spotted them and cut the call.

“Hale didn’t leave a message this time,” she said grimly. “He left a warning.”

“Anything recoverable?” Aria asked, voice tight.

Sloane shook her head. “Not much. And this wasn’t random. He knew exactly what he was targeting—files tied to your early investor contracts. Ones that could link him to your launch if someone looked deep enough.”

Dominic clenched his jaw. “He’s cleaning up.”

“No,” Sloane corrected. “He’s escalating. You struck back, Aria. On live TV. Now he’s going scorched earth.”

A firefighter approached. “You’re the owner?”

Aria nodded.

He handed her something wrapped in a melted sheet of plastic: a charred, warped metal tag.

The inventory code was almost unreadable—but Aria recognized it instantly.

NV001. Her very first client folder.

The one she’d buried behind every success.

The one tied to Nathan’s final night.

She took it, hands steady.

Sloane looked between them. “This ends now. We stop playing defense. We take Hale down.”

“How?” Aria asked.

Sloane’s eyes glittered. “You still have the original financials, right? From your first deal? The ones he signed before you replaced the paperwork?”

Aria hesitated. “In a safety deposit box. But it’s sealed under another name.”

Dominic stepped forward. “Then we open it.”

“Not we,” Sloane said. “Her. She built this. She finishes it.”

Aria looked down at the scorched metal in her hand.

Fire hadn’t destroyed her company.

But it had burned away the illusion that she could keep her past and future separate.

It was time to go to war.