CHAPTER 405: PAWN

I turned on the TV, needing noise to fill the void.

The local news was already covering it.

"Drama at the XE corp Gala tonight as shocking allegations surface..."

My face flashed on the screen, just for a second, a grainy photo someone must have taken with their phone. Then Kael’s. Then Aria’s.

The reporter’s voice was neutral, careful, but the implication was clear: scandal. Betrayal. Chaos.

I watched it all play out, detached, like I was observing someone else’s life.

My phone buzzed.

Finally.

I snatched it up,

Mom.

I declined the call.

It buzzed again. Dad this time.

Declined.

And again. And again.

I turned my phone face-down on the couch cushion and pressed my palms to my eyes until colors bloomed behind my eyelids.

This was supposed to work.

This was supposed to bring her back.

So why did it feel like I’d just pushed her further away?

...

The weekend passed in a blur.

My phone never stopped. Calls, texts, voicemails piling up faster than I could ignore them.

My parents. Coworkers. People I barely knew suddenly curious to hear my side of the story.

I ignored them all.

All I cared about was Aria.

I texted her obsessively. Called. Left voicemails that ranged from apologetic to desperate to angry.

Please, just talk to me.

I know you’re mad, but you have to understand...

Don’t do this. Don’t shut me out like everyone else.

But the silence remained.

Suffocating. Final.

By Sunday night, I couldn’t take it anymore.

I needed to see her. Needed to know she was okay. Needed to fix this before it was too late.

So Monday morning, I went to the office.

Even though it was supposed to be my day off. Even though I knew it was risky.

I didn’t care.

I needed answers.

The building felt empty when I arrived, just security and a few workaholics who never took a break.

I went straight to Kael’s floor, my heels echoing in the lobby as I walked to the elevator.

Rose was at her desk, and the moment she saw me, her expression shifted. Discomfort. Maybe fear.

"Ms. Brown," she said carefully, standing. "What are you doing here?"

"Is Aria here?" I asked, cutting straight to it.

Rose hesitated. "No. She hasn’t—"

"What about Kael?"

"He’s not in today either."

My eyes scanned the desk, searching for something, anything, and that’s when I saw it.

A white envelope.

With the word RESIGNATION written across the front in Aria’s handwriting.

My heart stopped.

I moved before Rose could stop me, snatching the envelope and tearing it open.

Please accept this letter as my formal resignation from my position as Executive Assistant, effective immediately...

The words blurred.

This should have felt like another victory but instead it felt more like a death sentence.

"When did she drop this off?" I demanded, turning to Rose.

"I—I don’t know. It was here when I arrived this morning."

"She came here?" My voice cracked.

"When?"

"I don’t—"

A door opened behind me.

Kael’s office.

But it wasn’t Kael who stepped out.

It was Andrew.

He was mid-conversation with two men in expensive suits, laughing at something one of them had said. But the moment he saw me, his expression brightened.

"Sarah!" He strode over, all warmth and familiarity, and I felt every muscle in my body tense. "Gentlemen, allow me to introduce my future sister-in-law."

The words hit me like ice water.

Future sister-in-law.

The men’s expressions shifted immediately, recognition, judgment, curiosity.

I forced a smile. Played along.

"Andrew."

He clapped me on the shoulder, steering me toward the office as he bid the men goodbye. "Let’s talk inside, shall we?"

The door shut behind us with a soft click.

And the warmth drained from his face.

"I never agreed to this," I said immediately, my voice sharp. "I never said I’d marry him."

Andrew moved to the bar cart in the corner that I’d never seen before and poured amber liquid into a glass. He gestured to the small seating area, a leather couch and low table tucked near the floor-to-ceiling windows.

"Sit."

"I don’t want to—"

"Sit, Sarah."

I sat.

He handed me the glass, then poured one for himself, settling into the chair across from me with the ease of someone who owned the room.

"You announced to every executive board member, every investor, every person who matters in this city that you’re carrying Kael Roman’s child," he said, his tone almost conversational. "Do you have any idea what that means?"

"It means I told the truth."

"It means," he continued, ignoring me, "that you’ve sparked an outrage in the business community. Reputations matter in our world, Sarah. And you just damaged one of the most valuable ones we have."

I set the glass down without drinking. "That’s not my problem."

"Oh, but it is." He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Because my father, our father, technically, he cares very deeply about his image. And yours just became entangled with it."

My chest tightened. "What are you saying?"

"I’m saying you’re not going anywhere. You’re part of this family now, whether you like it or not. And I need you to play along just a little longer."

"Play along with what?"

His smile was cold. Sharp. "With destroying Kael. Completely. So thoroughly that not even our father can help him recover."

I stood. "I don’t care about Kael. I only care about Aria."

"Then you should have thought about that before you put yourself in the spotlight." He stood too, closing the distance between us in two smooth strides. "Did you really think it would be that simple? That you could throw Kael under the bus and just walk away?"

"The baby might not even be his," I said, my voice trembling despite myself.

"I know." His smile widened. "Which is exactly why you just need to play along for a little while longer. Until Kael is dead."

The word hung in the air.

Dead.

Not ruined. Not disgraced.

Dead.

My blood went cold.

"I’m not—"

"If there’s one thing I’ve learned from our father," Andrew continued, his voice dropping to something quieter, more dangerous, "it’s how to make a person disappear forever without laying a finger on them."

He stepped closer, and I stumbled back, my spine hitting the edge of the couch.

"And you, Sarah," he murmured, "are going to be the one to drive Kael to his death."

"I won’t—"

"You will. Because if you think you can decline..." His eyes turned flat. Empty. "Then believe me when I say that once the truth about your lies reaches my father, he won’t stop at anything to make your ending miserable."

My heart hammered against my ribs.

"Contrary to what everyone believes," he added, almost as an afterthought, "Ewan Roman cares very much about his son Kael. And you, Sarah Brown, are going to need all the help you can get to avoid the Romans’ execution."

I shoved him back, hard enough to make him stumble.

And then I stormed out.

Behind me, Andrew’s voice carried through the open door.

"I’ll be in touch, Sarah."

Out of the office. Into the hallway. Toward the elevator, my hands shaking so badly I could barely press the button.

The elevator doors closed, and I sagged against the wall, gasping for air.

My phone was in my hand before I realized I’d grabbed it.

I dialed Aria’s number, fingers trembling.

This number is no longer in service.

I tried again.

Same message.

No.

No, no, no,

Andrew’s threat echoed in my skull, wrapping around my thoughts like smoke.

You’re part of this family now.

Drive Kael to his death.

Avoid the Romans’ execution.

I’d thought I was playing a game I could control.

But I’d just realized I was the pawn.

And the board was already on fire

.

The elevator doors opened, and I stumbled out into the lobby, my vision blurring at the edges.

I needed to find her. Needed to explain. Needed to fix this before it spiraled even further out of control.

Aria’s apartment. That’s where she’d be.

I pushed through the glass doors, out into the cold morning air...

And froze.

A black car sat at the curb.

Sleek. Expensive. Familiar in the way nightmares are familiar.

The back door opened, and two bodyguards stepped out.

Large men in dark suits, faces impassive.

They moved toward me, and I backed up instinctively, my heart in my throat.

"Miss Brown," one of them said. "Please come with us."

"I—no, I—"

"It’s not a request."

They flanked me, guiding me toward the car with hands that were polite but unyielding.

The back window rolled down.

And there he was.

Ewan Roman.

The Chairman himself.

He looked at me with eyes that held no warmth. No anger. Just cold, calculating assessment.

"Get in, Miss Brown," he said quietly. "We need to talk."