CHAPTER 406: DARKNESS

The television wouldn’t shut up.

Static, voices, that fake cheer in every anchor’s tone—it filled the dark with noise I didn’t ask for. The penthouse was a blur of shadows and screen-light, all gray and ghostly, like the world forgot what color was.

And there he was again.

Andrew.

He was everywhere now. Business conferences. Charity galas. News segments analyzing XE Corp’s "bold new direction under visionary leadership." The media had fallen in love with him, praising his decisive action and forward-thinking strategies.

His fucking face plastered across the screen, smiling like a man who’d never known failure.

"Visionary leadership," they said.

"Bold new direction for XE Corp," they said.

The savior of the company.

They couldn’t get enough of him.

I couldn’t care less.

I reached for the whiskey bottle on the table and took another drink. My hand was slow. My head slower. The burn down my throat felt like the only thing that still worked.

Then the screen flickered.

And her face appeared.

Sarah.

Smiling like she hadn’t ruined everything.

That headline,

"Kael Roman’s Fiancée Speaks Out: ’I Just Want What’s Best for Our Child.’"

Fiancée.

I laughed. Bitter. Short. Empty.

My father’s idea, of course. The great Ewan Roman, always five steps ahead, always ready to spin chaos into opportunity.

He’d seen the DNA results, positive... somehow, and jumped straight into damage control. An engagement. A press release about family and love and responsibility.

All of it a lie.

My hand clenched before I even realized it, and the remote was flying through the air, hitting the TV with a crack.

The screen went dark.

Silence swallowed the room, heavy and suffocating.

I sank back into the couch. The cushions dipped beneath me like they were tired of my weight. The room spun slightly, a combination of exhaustion and whatever cocktail of substances was currently swimming through my system.

The penthouse reeked of it. Expensive tobacco from those rare thick cigars I’d been smoking to keep the edge off. Rare brands, all of them, but the stench was still filth. My filth.

The sickly-sweet smell of weed that kept me floating somewhere between consciousness and oblivion. And alcohol, so much alcohol. Whiskey, vodka, wine, whatever was within reach.

Anything to stay numb.

Anything to not think about her face.

Aria.

God, even thinking her name hurt.

She’d looked at me like I was nothing. Like the man she loved had never existed. Like I was the enemy.

And I’d let her believe it.

Sleep? That was a joke now. I’d close my eyes and see her leaving, feel her slipping out of reach over and over until I woke drenched in sweat, clawing for air. My insomnia had returned with a vengeance.

It reminded me of the base after Ivan died. Those endless nights staring at the ceiling, counting seconds, feeling my mind splinter apart.

Back then, I thought I couldn’t break any further. Turns out I was wrong.

These days, I only moved when I had to.

A shower when the smell became unbearable.

A sandwich when my hands shook too badly to pour another drink.

Bare minimum to stay alive.

My phone was dead on the counter. Has been for weeks.

Missed calls stacked like guilt, Ash, a dozen others whose names blurred together. I hadn’t answered any.

My father tried a few times.

I’d hear him outside the door, waiting. Sometimes for ten minutes. Sometimes for an hour. He never knocked. Never demanded entry. He just... waited.

Eventually, he’d leave.

But not before speaking through the door in that calm, measured tone.

"You cannot remain like this forever, Kael."

I didn’t answer. Didn’t care

What was there to say?

My reflection was a stranger now.

Hair overgrown, beard uneven, eyes red and ringed in black.

A ghost. A wreck wearing my face.

I’d gone through all the stages like they were some kind of sick ritual.

Denial. Pretending Aria would come back, that she’d realize the truth and forgive me.

Anger. At Sarah. At myself. At the world for being so damn cruel.

And now, whatever came after that.

Something past acceptance. Something empty.

Maybe if I could just stop loving her, it wouldn’t hurt so much.

Maybe if I carved her out of me, cut out that part that still beat for her, I could finally breathe again.

Resentment would be easier.

Hatred, even. At least hate was solid.

Hate her for leaving. For thinking I could ever hurt her. Hate myself for giving Sarah a single inch of control.

But I knew the truth.

The real reason I hadn’t told Aria everything.

The real reason I hadn’t destroyed Sarah the way I wanted to.

I’d been scared.

Scared of what it would do to her.

Scared of that look in her eyes when she found out.

Scared she’d see me for what I was.

And she did.

She looked at me like I was a monster.

And maybe I am.

My chest tightened again, the same way it always did when I thought too long.

I grabbed the vodka this time, twisting the cap off and drinking straight from the bottle.

Harsher burn. Better distraction.

The world dimmed just enough to keep breathing.

If it killed me, fine.

At least it’d stop this ache.

A knock cut through the silence.

I didn’t move.

"Mr. Roman?" Niko’s voice, muffled through the heavy wood. "Sir, I need to speak with you."

"Go away," I said, my voice hoarse from disuse.

"Sir, I’m concerned about your—"

"I said go away."

There was a pause. Then: "I understand you’re going through a difficult time, but this level of drinking—"

"Niko." My voice dropped to something dangerous. "Leave. Now."

Another pause.

Then, quieter: "Sir... it seems Aria’s whereabouts are still unknown."

I barely registered the words.

Aria had disappeared the night of the gala. She’d turned in her resignation letter a few days later, left it at Rose’s desk in the early morning hours before anyone arrived and then vanished completely.

No one had been able to reach her since. Not Olivia. Not Ash. No one could track her location or find any trace of where she’d gone.

I knew where she was.

Or at least, I knew the general area. I’d made it my business to know, to ensure she was safe even if she didn’t want me anywhere near her.

But I didn’t share that information with anyone.

Because I understood why she’d disappeared. She didn’t want to be found. Didn’t want to be seen. Didn’t want to face the wreckage of her life.

And I wasn’t going to ruin that for her.

"Mr. Roman," Niko continued when I didn’t respond, "there’s also been a change to the executive compensation structure you implemented last year. Mr. Andrew has restructured the performance-based incentive program entirely—"

I didn’t answer.

I took another drink instead.

"Additionally," Niko pressed on, clearly determined to get through his list, "your father has been frequenting the hospital more often. The staff there—"

That made my hand tighten around the bottle.

My father. At the hospital.

Something cold flickered in my chest. Concern, maybe. Or fear. But I shoved it down immediately.

"The old bastard doesn’t know how to die," I muttered. "He’ll outlive us all out of spite."

"Sir—"

"If that’s all, Niko, then leave."

Silence.

Then, hesitantly: "That isn’t... all, actually."

I closed my eyes. "What now?"

Before Niko could answer, I heard it.

A muffled murmur. A woman’s voice, sharp and insistent, saying something I couldn’t quite make out.

My body tensed.

Then the door burst open with enough force to slam against the wall.

Ash Sterling stood in the doorway, her expression a mixture of fury and horror.

She looked past Niko, who’d clearly tried and failed to stop her and her eyes landed on me.