Chapter 16: The Knife Behind the Smile
The official press release was simple:
"Aria Vantier, presumed on medical leave, has returned to the helm of Vantier Group following a board-sanctioned emergency vote. All strategic operations remain under internal review."
But inside the tower, chaos brewed.
The board was fractured.
Departments were skittish.
And Aria?
She was already dissecting the rot.
"I want dossiers on every executive who voted Everett Rhys into power," she told Damien as they descended into the archives. "Especially anyone who benefited from his appointment."
Damien handed her a digital tablet. "I cross-checked financials. Six of the top-level execs saw mysterious account boosts in the last year. Three of them hired private security companies with Hollow traces."
"Names?"
He rattled them off.
She memorized each one.
They entered the sub-level vault — Vantier's most private records room — buried beneath twenty feet of reinforced steel and runes keyed to her bloodline.
Even here, Aria sensed it.
Residual corruption.
It was like a bad dream trying to crawl back into her head.
Kestrel's voice buzzed in through a private earpiece. "Two of the execs flagged have already tried to exit the building. I'm tailing one now."
"Detain them quietly," Aria replied.
"What about the woman from Legal?"
Aria's fingers paused on the tablet.
"Valeska Myre?"
"That's the one."
"I'll handle her myself."
Valeska Myre had been a fixture of Vantier Group's legal arm for over a decade.
Sharp, elegant, and utterly unreadable.
When Aria stepped into her office unannounced, the woman barely looked up.
"You've certainly made a dramatic return," Valeska said, signing something with an expensive-looking pen. "The boardroom was buzzing like bees in a hurricane."
"You always had a way with words," Aria said coolly.
Valeska finally looked up. "And you always had a flair for theatrics."
Aria walked forward, placing a photo on her desk — a printed image from surveillance: Valeska meeting Everett Rhys two months ago.
"This looks a lot like treason."
Valeska's expression didn't change.
But her pupils dilated slightly.
Only someone trained in both law and deception could manage to look this calm.
"I was gathering evidence," she said smoothly. "Building a case."
"Funny," Aria replied, "you didn't file a single internal report."
Valeska sighed.
Then leaned back.
"So what now? You throw me from the tower? Burn me like you did Rhys?"
Aria tilted her head.
"I don't need to burn you," she said softly. "I already own you."
She held up a small crystal vial.
Valeska's eyes widened.
Her voice lost its smooth edge. "Where did you get that?"
"From the blood-lock vault my father had built under the old observatory. The one he said was 'for our protection.' Turns out he wasn't just protecting me. He was controlling you."
Aria uncorked the vial.
Inside: a drop of blood, still red after twenty years.
"Your oath is bound to this," she whispered. "Your true name's sealed inside. If I speak it, your soul bends."
Valeska's mask cracked.
She stood sharply, panic flashing across her perfect features.
"You wouldn't dare."
Aria stepped closer. "Try me."
Kestrel's voice came through again. "The second exec tried to flee through the lower garage. He's Hollow. Disguised."
"Kill him," Aria said without hesitation.
Valeska paled. "You've changed."
"No," Aria said. "I've remembered."
She dropped the vial into her coat pocket.
Then turned her back on Valeska.
"You'll stay," she said. "And help me clean this place."
"And if I refuse?"
Aria smiled coldly. "Then I unseal the name. And you become mine completely."
Valeska didn't answer.
But she didn't try to leave.
Later that evening, Aria stood in the old executive lounge — her father's favorite room, untouched since his death.
It smelled like aged leather and silence.
Damien stood at the window, scanning security reports.
"This building's almost clean," he said. "But they'll try again."
"They already are," Aria murmured. "This isn't over."
Suddenly, the lights flickered.
Not from power failure.
From spellwork.
Damien's eyes narrowed. "It's a trap."
Before either of them could move, the floor beneath Aria shifted.
Not physically.
Magically.
A spell seal activated — one carved into the bones of the building, hidden even from her bloodline.
The floor cracked like shattered glass.
She dropped—
Into darkness.
She landed hard on black stone.
Alone.
And then came the whisper.
"Hello again, princess."
A figure emerged from the shadows.
Not Hollow.
Not entirely human.
This was someone from Faerondel.
Someone who once fought beside her.
And betrayed her.
"Riven," she hissed.
The traitor prince.
He smiled, golden eyes gleaming.
"You've stirred the fire again," he said. "I felt it from across the Veil."
"You shouldn't be here."
"I'm not," he said. "Not really. Just a shade. A message."
"What message?"
His voice darkened.
"They're coming."
He stepped forward. "You think this is about a company. Or a city. Or revenge. But it's not. It's about the flame you carry. And how many would kill to control it."
Aria didn't move.
She didn't blink.
"Then let them come," she said.
Riven's ghost grinned wider.
"You've always been dramatic, Aria."
Then he vanished.
Moments later, Damien shattered the floor above with a ward spell.
Aria rose from the crater.
Bruised. Breathing hard.
Eyes burning.
"Get me the Hollow sympathizer list," she snapped. "We're cleansing every department."
Damien didn't ask questions.
He just nodded.
The war wasn't coming.
It had already begun.
And Aria was ready to fight.
Not just for her company.
Not just for her legacy.
But for the flame that lived inside her — and every life it could still save.