VARESSA'S POV The first thing I noticed was the blood. It soaked the white marble floor, creeping in a dark pool right under Lucien Arden's desk. Next, I saw my husband. He was sprawled on his back beside the desk. Already dead. I stood there in the doorway, frozen. My hand still clung to the brass handle while my brain tried to deny what I saw. Lucien was supposed to be fine. We were supposed to talk tonight-a final conversation. I'd been rehearsing what I'd say all the way home, working up the courage. I would tell him I was finished. That I was done pretending our marriage was anything more than an expensive prison full of empty rooms. Done sleeping alone while he slipped in and out like a ghost. Done waiting for the man who'd married me three years ago, only to morph into a stranger. I'd even slipped the signed divorce papers into my handbag, ready to toss them on his desk. Instead, I found a body. "Lucien?" My voice barely carried. I stepped into the room. The door clicked shut behind me. My heart stumbled, then rushed. "No." I crossed the space between us. "Lucien." His face was tilted toward the window, eyes closed. Blood leaked through his shirt. A knife stuck out of his chest. I stopped breathing. "No, no, no..." My legs buckled and I dropped to the floor. My hands hovered over his neck, then gently touched his skin. Cold. Too cold. "Lucien..." I shook his shoulder. He didn't move. I pressed two fingers to his throat. Still nothing. The man I'd watched leave this house this morning was just a body now-someone I barely recognized. My husband was dead. A sound scraped out of me-not quite a scream, more like something breaking. I knelt there, staring. Three years of marriage. Three years of fighting, secrets, silence, and lies. Three years of beds that felt too big, too empty. And still, seeing him like this hurt more than I ever thought it could. My eyes burned. I hated that. I told myself I hated him, but if that was true, why did my chest ache? I reached for his face, my fingers barely brushing his cheek. "Why?" I whispered. "Why did you have to die before I could leave you?" A noise broke behind me-footsteps. I whirled around. The study door burst open. A security guard stood there. His eyes darted from Lucien to me, to the knife, and his face changed. "Mrs. Arden..." "I didn't do this." He stared at me. "I just got here." He said nothing. His hand went to his radio. "Sir, we have an emergency in the west study." My stomach twisted. "Wait." He glanced at me. "Please." I stood up. "I found him like this. I didn't-" Heavy footsteps pounded in. Two more guards rushed in. One stared at Lucien. The other watched me. Then his gaze dropped to my hands. Blood. Lucien's blood. He hardened his voice. "Don't move." "What?" "Show me your hands." I lifted them slowly. "You think I killed him?" No one said a word. That silence felt colder than an accusation. And then I realized-the study door had been locked when I got here. I used my key to open it. So whoever killed Lucien either locked the door behind them, or... My gaze swept the room. All the windows: shut. The balcony door: locked. No one was behind the curtains-not under the desk. There wasn't another way out. My pulse jumped. If nobody left after I got here, then how did the killer escape? A guard spoke up. "Call the police." "Already did," the first one replied. Ice rushed through me. He already called? Before anyone asked? "How did you know?" I whispered. He stared at me. "Know what?" "That something happened." He didn't reply. Another guard stepped closer. "Mrs. Arden, step away from the body." I couldn't move. My eyes locked on Lucien. Something was off. The whole scene felt scripted. The knife. The locked room. The blood. My timing. Then I noticed a small red mark on Lucien's wrist. Not blood-a bruise. Like he'd been grabbed. And another near his collar. Maybe he was attacked somewhere else. Maybe someone just dumped him here. Sirens shrieked outside. Cops flooded the house. Cameras flashed. Questions flew. When did I get here? Why was I here? Did Lucien have enemies? Were we fighting? Did I want out? I answered as best I could. But then came the question I knew was coming. "Mrs. Arden, did you kill your husband?" I stared at the detective. "No." "Were you angry with him?" "Yes." Silence. I swallowed. "We were getting divorced." The detective paused, pen hovering. "Divorced?" "Yes." "Did he know?" "Yes." "Did you tell him tonight?" I glanced at Lucien's body. "I came to tell him." The detective nodded at my hands. "Your fingerprints are on the murder weapon." My stomach lurched. "What?" He pointed at the knife. "Your fingerprints are there." I shook my head. "I never touched it." "You were on the floor beside him." "I was trying to help him." "Your blood isn't on the knife." "I didn't touch it." "Then explain your prints." "I can't." He pressed his lips together. "That makes things hard for you." "I didn't kill my husband." He looked at me. "Then someone wants it to look like you did." Finally-a hint of sense. His phone rang. He answered, his face shifting as he listened. "Yes." He listened more. "Tonight?" Another pause. "Understood." He hung up. "What's going on?" I asked. He eyed me. "The Arden family lawyer's on his way." "Why?" "He says your husband left specific instructions about his death." My heart almost stopped. "What instructions?" He didn't answer. Ten minutes crawled by. Then the front doors swung open. Sevrin Hale-Lucien's lawyer-walked in wearing a black suit. He didn't even look at me. He headed for the study. The detective blocked him. "You can't come in." Sevrin pulled a sealed envelope from his coat. "My client gave me this." The detective studied it. "What is it?" "His will." I could barely breathe. Lucien made a will? Since when? Sevrin finally looked at me, his face unreadable. Then he said, "The will includes specific instructions for Mrs. Arden." My heart hammered. "What instructions?" His eyes met mine. "I was told to read the will tonight." "Tonight?" "Yes." "Why?" He barely spoke. "Because Mr. Arden believed he'd be killed." The floor seemed to vanish. Lucien knew? He saw it coming? And then Sevrin said, "According to his instructions, Mrs. Arden must attend the reading." The detective frowned. "Why?" Sevrin stared at the envelope. "Because Mr. Arden left her everything." My mouth went dry. Everything? That was impossible. His money. His company. His shares. His houses. His entire fortune-everything. He barely spoke to me for months. Why leave it all to the wife who came here carrying signed divorce papers? No way. It didn't make sense. I glanced at Lucien's body. Now, fear tunneled further. Colder, deeper. Lucien had seen this coming? He'd left a will? He knew I'd be accused? Maybe this wasn't some random murder. Maybe it was all planned. And maybe- I was just another part of it. Sevrin spoke again. "There's another instruction." I braced myself. He slid the envelope open and removed a small device. "There's a recording." "From Lucien?" "Yes." He set it on the desk. Everyone gathered. Someone pressed play. Static. Then his voice-Lucien's voice-filled the room. Calm. Steady. Impossible to mistake. "If you're hearing this..." He paused. "...then I'm already dead." Someone sucked in a breath behind me. He kept going. "And if Varessa is being accused of killing me..." Everything in me went cold. "...then everything happened exactly as I feared." I covered my mouth. "Varessa, you need to understand," he said, voice softer. "I didn't leave you my fortune out of love." My heart cracked. "I left it to you because I knew they would come for you next." Then-nothing. Silence swallowed us. Everyone stared at the little device. Suddenly, another line crackled out. "Don't trust anyone carrying the Arden name." And then, from somewhere behind me, a voice whispered- "She's going to die next." I spun, searching for who said it. Nobody owned up. And then, just like that- Every light in the house went out. Total darkness.

VARESSA'S POV The darkness lasted three seconds. That's it-just three. But in the quiet, I knew someone was right behind me. Not a nervous cop. Not a guard shifting around. It was a slow, steady breath. Way too close. I froze. "Who's there?" Nothing. My hand shot into my bag for my phone. Before I could grab it, the lights flicked on. The detective, the officers, Sevrin, the guards, Lucien's body. Everyone was there, just as before. But whoever had breathed behind me was gone. I turned in a slow circle. Nobody. My heart pounded. I couldn't shake it. Someone had been inches from me. I hadn't imagined it. "Did anyone leave the room?" The detective's voice was sharper now. The officers glanced at each other. "No, sir." "Check the corridor!" he barked. Two officers bolted outside. I couldn't make myself move. I just kept staring at the doorway. Someone had been right there. I was sure. "Mrs. Arden." The detective's voice snapped me out of it. I looked at him. My stomach was twisting itself in knots. "You need to come with us." "Where?" I already knew, but I had to hear it. "To the station." "I'm not done here." "You're a suspect in your husband's murder." I nodded. "I know." "Then you understand why you can't stay here." My gaze went to Lucien. I didn't want to leave him, lying there like that. The thought caught me off guard. Three hours ago, I would've done anything never to see him again. Now I couldn't stomach the idea of leaving him behind. Sevrin stepped forward. Calm, but stubborn. "She's not going anywhere yet." The detective frowned. "You're not in charge here." "No. But you haven't heard all of Lucien's will." The detective hesitated. "His will?" "Yes. He asked that I read it with his wife and immediate family present." "His family isn't here." "They're on their way." Sevrin's words had barely left his mouth when the front doors swung open. Footsteps echoed, and Isolde Arden-Lucien's mother-swept in. Every stitch of her black dress was perfectly pressed. Her face had gone pale, but her eyes looked dry as dust. Darian Arden, Lucien's younger half-brother, appeared behind her. I caught his eye. He glanced from me to Lucien's body, and for a second, something-pain, maybe fear-flickered over his face and vanished. Two more Ardens filtered in, but I barely saw them. My attention stuck to Darian. He moved closer. "Varessa." I stepped back, instinctive. "Don't." His jaw clenched. "I came because-" "I said don't." He stopped. I felt his gaze drop to my hands, where dried blood clung to my nails. "You were here when it happened?" "Yes." "What happened?" There was no good answer. I laughed, cold. "You're asking me?" He stared. "You were his wife." "And you were his brother." We both held the silence until Isolde cut through. "Enough." Her voice was sharp enough to slice granite. She knelt at Lucien's side. I saw her hand shake as she brushed his forehead. For a single moment her mask faltered. Then she looked at me-no grief, just loathing. "You." I swallowed. "Mrs. Arden-" "You were the last person to see him alive." "I wasn't." Her eyes narrowed. "Then who was?" "I don't know." "You expect us to believe that?" "I don't care what you believe." Her lips tightened. "You destroyed my son." Something in me snapped. "I didn't kill him." "You filed for divorce." My fingers clenched my bag. "You think leaving a marriage means I murdered him?" "You hated him." "Yes." The word slipped out-a confession. Everyone in the room seemed to stop breathing. I faced Lucien. "Yes. I hated what he did to our marriage." My voice shook. "But I didn't kill him." Darian looked away. Sevrin cleared his throat. "We should proceed." Isolde stood. "Then read the will." The room shifted. The family circled the table. I stayed standing, apart, as I always had. Arden in name, but never in truth-not until tonight. Sevrin opened the envelope. "The final testament of Lucien Matthias Arden." His voice echoed. Legal jargon droned on-accounts, assets, properties. I wasn't really listening until I caught my name. "Varessa Noir Arden." My head jerked up. "Lucien Matthias Arden leaves to his legal wife, Varessa Noir Arden, all controlling shares belonging to him in Arden International." The room erupted. "What?" Isolde shot to her feet. "No," Darian said, staring at Sevrin. "That can't be right." Sevrin pressed on. "Additionally, Mrs. Arden is to receive all personal holdings, investment portfolios, private properties, and liquid assets under his direct ownership." I just... stared. Everything? He'd left everything to me? Isolde's voice shook. "Stop. All controlling shares?" "Yes." "My son would never-" "He did. The will was witnessed, notarized, and legally registered six weeks ago." Six weeks. I remembered. Lucien was quiet then, almost a stranger in our own house. I'd accused him of cheating again, but he just looked at me and said, "You will understand one day." I hated him for that. Now it felt like the ground was sliding out from under me. "There's a final clause." The room hushed. Sevrin shifted pages. "If Lucien Arden's death is classified as murder, his wife must remain the sole controlling beneficiary until the murderer is found." Darian sprang up. "This is insane." "No, Darian," Sevrin said, voice like stone. "It's very deliberate." Isolde rounded on me. "You're not taking my son's company." I met her glare. "I never asked for it." "You don't deserve it." "Maybe not," I said quietly, "but he left it to me." She sneered. "You think money makes you powerful?" "No." My eyes went to Lucien's empty chair. "It makes me a target." Nobody argued. Sevrin set a black envelope on the table. My name was written across it. VARESSA. My heart raced. "It's from Lucien?" He nodded. My hands shook as I broke the black wax seal. Inside was a single slip of paper. Four lines. Varessa, If they tell you I died suddenly, don't believe them. If they tell you I hated you, don't believe that either. And if anyone in my family tells you that you are safe, run. The words blurred. My chest constricted. Darian's eyes were sharp on me. "What's written there?" I folded the note. "Nothing." Isolde moved closer. "Give it to me." "No." "You're holding my son's last words." "I know." "You have no right to keep them from us." I stared at her. "Apparently, your son thought I did." The silence stretched. Sevrin finally spoke. "There is one more thing." I turned. He looked uneasy. "Lucien left a private instruction about the investigation." "What sort of instruction?" Sevrin nodded to the detective. "He requested that his wife not be arrested for his murder until you've examined his private study." The detective frowned. "Why?" Sevrin handed him another envelope. The detective read for a long moment, then looked at me. "Your husband believed you'd be framed." My stomach dropped. "What?" His words were quiet. "He wrote that if evidence pointed to you, we should assume it was planted." Nobody spoke. My mind raced-Lucien's study, the knife, the fingerprints, the locked door, the blood. Someone wanted me blamed. Why? Now I wasn't just mourning. I'd inherited a billion-dollar empire. Someone killed Lucien and tried to set me up. Someone had been watching-right before he died. That's when I remembered the photograph. The one taken in my bedroom. Three nights before Lucien's death. "Sevrin," I blurted out. He turned. "Was there anything else in Lucien's study?" He paused, then shook his head. "No." He was lying. I recognized it. Lucien had always been a master at using silence. Sevrin had just used the same trick. I stood. "I want to go back in the study." The detective got between me and the door. "Absolutely not." "My husband left something." "We already searched." "You didn't find it." "How do you know?" "Because if you had, you'd stop asking who killed him." Before the detective could fire back, a crash shattered the moment above us. Another crash followed-breaking glass. Footsteps, shouting, someone screaming. The officers drew their guns. Darian tore down the hall. "Stay here!" the detective warned. Nobody listened. We all rushed upstairs. My bedroom door hung open, and inside-chaos. Clothes everywhere, drawers yanked out, everything tossed. I ran inside, heart pounding. I scanned the room. Nothing looked missing-until I remembered the black box I'd left on my bedside table. Gone. I whirled on Sevrin. "Someone took it." His face went pale. "What was inside?" "A photograph. And a key. And a recording." Darian's voice cut through from the doorway. "That's not all." He held up a small black envelope. My blood ran cold. "Where did you get that?" My voice came out shaky. "It was under your pillow," he said, handing it to me. My hands barely worked as I opened it. Inside-a photograph. Me and Lucien on our wedding day. But someone stood behind us, his face scratched out. I turned it over. Five words: YOU MARRIED THE WRONG ARDEN. My phone buzzed. I nearly dropped it. Unknown number. The first message: HE KNOWS YOU REMEMBER. Then another: RUN, VARESSA. A photo followed. It showed me just now, standing in my bedroom, from behind. Someone had been watching the whole time. And they were still inside the house.

VARESSA'S POV For a split second, it felt like the whole world froze. I kept staring at my phone. There was a photo of my bedroom, shot from behind me. Same black dress I had on now. Same people standing with me. Someone had taken this photo from inside the house. Not earlier that day. Not an hour ago. Less than a minute ago. They were still here. My grip tightened around the phone. "Lock the doors." My voice barely made it out. Nobody moved. I turned to the security guards, my patience gone. "Lock every door in the house." A guard grabbed his radio. "Secure the perimeter. Nobody leaves." Darian was already eyeing the hallway. "How many security officers are on this floor?" "Four," the guard replied. "And the other two?" A pause. "I don't know." Darian's face went sharp. "Go find them." The guard rushed off. I looked down at the photo again. Something felt off. The angle-whoever took it had to be right behind me. Not in the hallway. Not at the door. Inside my room. I turned toward the wardrobe. Doors wide open. Clothes everywhere. Drawers yanked out. Someone had been searching. But they didn't just search, did they? They watched. I stepped closer to the wardrobe. Darian's voice broke the silence. "Varessa." He sounded like he meant for me to stop. "Don't." I turned. "What?" "Let the police check it first." I shook my head. "No." His eyes narrowed. "No?" "I've spent three years letting everyone decide what I do." I shot the phone a glare. "My husband is dead. Someone's in my house. I'm not waiting for permission." He followed as I headed to the wardrobe. The detective raised a hand. "Everyone stay back." A police officer went ahead, methodically searching behind the clothes. Under the bed. The bathroom. The balcony. Nothing. All empty. The detective frowned. "No one here." My stomach was twisting in knots. "Then explain the photograph." He didn't. I scanned the room. Something wasn't right. Not just the photo. My eyes caught on the bedside table. A glass of water sat there. I hadn't put it there. I pressed a finger to the glass-cold. Fresh. "Someone was here," I said. Darian picked up the glass. "When?" "Recently." "Don't touch anything else," he snapped. I pulled back. The detective checked the glass. "No prints." "That doesn't mean no one was here," I replied. He said nothing. I noticed the curtain, slightly open. The window behind it was still shut, but tucked between the curtain and wall was a thin black thread. I tugged it out-a shred of glove. My breath came slower. Not only had someone been in here, they wore gloves. They stood there. Watching me. A thud came from below. Three floors down-a door slammed. Everyone went still. Darian shot out of the room. "Stay here!" he ordered, but I was already chasing after them. "Varessa!" the detective called. I ignored him. We pounded down the stairs, footsteps echoing-fast and heavy. Another door slammed. Darian made it to the ground floor first and disappeared down the hallway. Crash. Silence. "Darian?" I yelled. No answer. I ran into the hall. The rear entrance stood wide open. Night air poured inside. Nobody was out there. The garden was empty. The gates closed. Security lights on. I stepped up to Darian. "Did you see anyone?" He shook his head. "No." "Then how did they get out?" He blew out a breath. "That's the problem." I stared at the open doorway. No footprints. No broken lock. No car. Nothing. The detective arrived. "Close the door," he barked at a security officer. I turned to Darian. "You knew." His brow creased. "Knew what?" "That someone was watching me." His face hardly moved. "I didn't." "You weren't surprised by the photograph." His expression slipped. Barely. But I caught it. "You're lying." He stepped closer. "I'm just trying to keep you alive." "Then why don't you tell me the truth?" "I can't." "Why not?" He glanced at the stairs, then at me. "Because if I tell you what I know, you'll be an even bigger target." I laughed coldly. "I already am." "You don't understand." "No." My voice cracked. "You don't understand. My husband is dead." I jabbed a finger at the ceiling. "Someone was in my bedroom." I held up my phone, almost shaking. "Someone photographed me. Someone just escaped a house full of police." My voice dropped. "Stop treating me like I'm going to break." Darian stared at me. His eyes darted, something unreadable there. Then he said, "Lucien warned me you'd say that." The world stuttered. "What?" He turned away. I grabbed his arm. "What did you say?" He kept quiet. "You knew Lucien was worried about me." "Yes." "How long?" Silence. "How long, Darian?" "Three years." Three years. As long as I'd been married. "You've known for three years?" "Yes." "Known what?" He looked away. "Why Lucien married you." Everything tilted. My voice sounded far away. "What reason?" "I can't tell you." "Why?" "Lucien made me promise." A bitter laugh slipped out. "Dead. He's dead, and you're still keeping secrets." Darian's face softened. "Varessa-" I yanked my arm free. "Don't. I don't need your sympathy." "It's not sympathy." "Then what is it?" He didn't answer. Sevrin appeared at the end of the hall. His face almost as pale as mine. "Mrs. Arden." "What is it?" "We found something." My gut clenched. "Where?" "In Mr. Arden's study." I followed him without looking back. The detective tried to stop me. "Mrs. Arden-" "No." In the study, the body was gone. The blood wasn't. Dark stains crossed the marble. I hated the sight of them. Hated that I kept expecting Lucien to walk through the door. Sevrin led me over to the desk. "Here." He pointed to the floor. A panel had been pried off. "A hidden compartment?" He nodded. "Wasn't visible at first." The detective knelt, pulling out a metal case. My pulse hammered. "What's inside?" He opened it-there was a key, a black flash drive, and a piece of folded paper. Sevrin looked at me. "You should read this alone." I gave a hollow laugh. "No chance." He hesitated, then handed it over. Lucien's handwriting. I knew it at once. The first line squeezed my throat. Varessa, If you've found this, someone has already tried to scare you away. I frowned. Good? Fear is useful. It tells you where the truth is buried. My hands shook. There are things about our marriage I never told you. Not because I didn't trust you. A smudge. I squinted closer at the page. Because I knew someone was listening. I looked up. Everyone watched me. You are going to believe I betrayed you. I swallowed hard. You will discover things that make you hate me. A tear ran down my cheek. Let yourself hate me. My breathing went shallow. But whatever you do, do not return to the night we met. I froze. Three years ago. The night I thought I'd remembered perfectly. Because that night never happened the way you remember it. I lowered the note, the room collapsing in around me. "What does that mean?" I asked the air. Sevrin stayed silent. I scoured the room. "Did Lucien leave anything else?" "No." "Search again." "We already-" "I said search again." He nodded reluctantly, and the officers fanned out. I moved to Lucien's desk. Slid open drawers-empty. More papers. Nothing. But then, scratched under the desk, a small symbol-a circle with a line through it. My stomach went cold. I dug into my handbag, pulled out the photo from earlier. The same symbol, faint in the corner. I held it out to Sevrin. "What is this?" He went still. "You've seen it before." "No." "Don't lie to me." Darian stepped in. "Sevrin." They exchanged a look-tense, silent. Sevrin let out a shaky breath. "It belonged to a private security group." "Which group?" "It's not active anymore." "What was it called?" He met my eyes. "Orion." The word meant nothing to me-until Darian swore under his breath. "That's impossible." "Why?" He stared at the symbol. "Orion was dissolved eight years ago." "So?" "Because Lucien was a member." The floor dropped out from under me. "My husband was in a secret organization?" I looked at Sevrin. "And you knew?" He stared at the ground. Something clicked under my shoe. I stepped back-a small key, separate from the other. A number was engraved on it: 317. I held it up. "What does this open?" Sevrin kept quiet. Darian answered. "Nothing here." "Where then?" He hesitated. "A room." "Where?" He stared at me. "Arden International." My blood ran cold. "What room?" His voice dropped. "Room 317 hasn't been opened in three years." "Why?" "Lucien ordered everyone to stay away from it." I closed my fingers around the key. "Why?" He looked right at me. "That's where he kept everything he didn't want you to know." My phone buzzed. I almost dropped the key. Unknown number. No text, just a photograph-a room, a desk, a wall covered in photos. And in the center: me. Ice rushed through my veins. The photo was taken in Room 317. The timestamp? Three years ago. Before my wedding. Before I ever met Lucien. Before everything. Another message popped up. YOU HAVE BEEN LOOKING FOR THE WRONG MAN. I read it twice. Then a third message. ASK YOUR MOTHER WHO LUCIEN REALLY WAS. My heart knocked the wind out of me. My mother. What did Lucien have to do with her? I looked at Sevrin. He'd gone rigid. "Sevrin?" No answer. "What is it?" He just stared at my phone, eyes wide. Then, quietly, "Your mother was supposed to be dead." The world spun. "What?" He looked at me. "She was the first person Lucien ever tried to save." Everything else faded away. Suddenly, my husband's murder wasn't the only secret tearing my life apart. My mother's death was another. Maybe the biggest of all.