Aria stood in front of the cameras with no script.

No PR handler.
No teleprompter.
No Dominic.

Just a chair. A mic. And a truth that could dismantle everything she built.

The interview wasn’t scheduled. She’d called it herself. Hijacked airtime from a small but fast-growing streaming network hungry for exclusive drama. They’d given her twenty minutes.

She didn’t need that long.

The host welcomed viewers, gave the barest context, then turned the spotlight over to her.

And Aria began.

“My name is Aria Vale. I’m the founder and CEO of Vale Interiors. And for the last week, my name has been dragged through headlines, accusations, and fire—some literal, some not.”

No smile. Just honesty.

“I’m here to say two things: First—yes, there was a private contract in my past. One that connected me to Marcus Hale, long before my company existed. It was a loan. A mistake. A decision I buried because I thought I had to. Because I thought success wouldn’t accept the truth.”

She took a breath.

“Second—I’m not running anymore.”

Gasps from the production crew. The host leaned forward.

“I was young. I was broke. And I took help from the wrong man. That help came with invisible strings. Strings I’ve been cutting, piece by piece, for the last decade. Marcus Hale wants you to believe I owe him everything. But the truth is—he tried to buy me. And I’m not for sale.”

Silence.

She let it stretch.

“Some of you will walk away. Investors. Clients. I won’t stop you. But if you stay—if you believe in building things the right way, not just the profitable way—then I promise this: no more secrets. No more shadows. Just me. My team. And the work.”

She stood.

“Let Hale leak whatever he wants. He can’t blackmail someone who already told the truth.”

And with that, Aria Vale walked off camera.

Unbroken.

Two hours later, her phone lit up like a war zone.

Some clients bailed. Predictable.

Others doubled down.

The Vale Interiors Instagram gained twenty thousand followers in a single hour. #AriaUnfiltered was trending globally.

She didn’t cry.

She didn’t gloat.

She just sat at her desk and answered emails.

Until the door opened—and Dominic stepped inside.

He didn’t say anything.

He didn’t need to.

Because Aria turned to him and said the one thing he hadn’t expected to hear.

“You can stay.”

“But?”

“But if you ever speak for me again—without asking—I’ll burn what’s left of your empire and rebuild it under my name.”

Dominic blinked.

Then smiled.

“That’s the woman I married.”