Aria stepped into her apartment and stopped cold.

A bouquet of white orchids sat on her kitchen counter.
Elegant. Expensive. Deadly.

Not because of the flowers themselves—but because of who used to send them.

Three years ago, she’d received the exact arrangement after turning down Marcus Hale’s buyout offer. No note. Just a message.

She thought it was a coincidence then. A power move.

Now, it felt like a threat.

She didn’t touch them. Just backed away slowly, pulled out her phone, and hit one name.

Dominic picked up on the first ring.

“I need you to tell me the truth,” she said. “All of it.”

There was a pause. “What happened?”

“He was in my apartment. Or someone working for him. He left flowers.”

She heard movement. Keys. Footsteps. “I’m coming to you.”

“No. I don’t want you here.”

“Aria—”

“I want information. Real information. Who are you dealing with? What the hell did you get me into?”

Silence again.

Then: “I’ll send you a file. Hale’s company history. The offshore accounts. The shell corps. Everything I have.”

“And why should I believe it’s the truth this time?”

“Because the truth is the only thing I have left to give you.”

The call ended.

Aria stared at the orchids.

They were beautiful. Pristine. Controlled.

Just like Marcus Hale wanted the world to believe he was.

She grabbed a pair of gloves from under the sink and dumped the flowers in the trash—vase and all.

Then she sat down, poured herself a glass of wine, and waited for the file.

She wasn’t playing the pawn anymore.

She was about to become the most dangerous piece on the board.