Chapter 3 Saved by a Stranger

Aria's POV

I woke up to the sound of birdsong and the soft warmth of sunlight streaming through the large, intricately framed windows. For a moment, I wondered if this was the afterlife-if the end had led me to a place of peace.

I blinked, my eyes adjusting to the golden light. The bed beneath me was impossibly soft, draped in silken sheets that carried a faint scent of lavender. I turned my head slowly, taking in the unfamiliar room.

This is definitely the afterlife.

It was lavish, with high ceilings and ornate details on every surface. Rich tapestries adorned the walls, and antique furniture gleamed with the sheen of polished wood. It felt too perfect, too elegant to be anything but heaven-or a dream.

"Am I... dead?" I whispered, my voice raspy and weak. I tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness forced me back down. I closed my eyes, focusing on the rhythmic pounding of my heart. Was this what the afterlife felt like? Or was it just another cruel illusion?

"You're awake," a deep voice said, startling me.

I turned my head quickly, wincing at the ache that shot through me. Standing at the edge of the room was a man-a tall, commanding figure with silver-streaked hair and a face that held both wisdom and sadness. He was impeccably dressed in fine clothing that hinted at nobility, his posture regal yet approachable. He watched me with an intensity that made my skin prickle.

I swallowed hard, suddenly feeling exposed. "Are you... here to take me to the afterlife?" The words tumbled out before I could stop them, laced with confusion and fear.

To my surprise, the man threw his head back and laughed, a warm, rich sound that filled the room. "No, my dear," he said, his eyes softening as he looked at me. "You're very much alive. And this-" he gestured around the opulent room-"is my private villa."

I stared at him, my mind struggling to catch up. "I... don't understand."

He stepped closer, his expression turning solemn. "I found you on the ground, barely clinging to life. You were cold, pale-dying. I couldn't leave you there. I brought you here and did what I could to help. Seeing you suffer... It reminded me of my daughter. She's gone now, but you-there's something about you."

His voice cracked, and he paused, composing himself. "You have her spirit. Her strength."

A lump formed in my throat. "You saved me?" I whispered. Someone actually saved me? Someone found me worthy to be saved? Why?

"Who are you?" I asked, still shocked. "An angel?"

He threw his head back in a hearty laugh. "My name is Richard Blackwood. I couldn't bear to watch you die. I couldn't let it happen." He hesitated, his gaze searching mine.

"What is your name?"

"Aria. Aria Carrington," I muttered.

"Tell me, Aria" he said softly, his voice raw with genuine curiosity. "Why would a young, promising girl like you ever think of ending her life?"

My breath caught in my throat, tears stinging my eyes. I'd expected pity, scorn, maybe even more judgment. But the question, asked with such softness, broke something inside me. For the first time in a long time, I felt seen-not as a burden or a failure, but as a person with a story to tell.

Then it all came crashing down. I spilled everything as though cleansing myself from the years of pain.

"I didn't want to keep living in a world that hated me," I began, the words tumbling out like a flood I couldn't control. "I'm worthless. I'm nothing. My parents, my pack-they treated me like I was less than dirt. My mother made sure I knew every day that I was a thorn in her flesh. She said... she told me to go and die far away. That she didn't even want to see my dead body if I died."

Tears slipped down my cheeks, and I couldn't hold them back. The weight of my past, of years spent enduring torment and rejection, pressed down on me until I felt like I'd suffocate.

"My sister, Lila," I continued, my voice shaking. "She was everything I wasn't-powerful, beautiful, the pride of our family. And I was nothing. My parents doted on her, and they hated me for being a reminder of their 'shame.' I... I was rejected by the one person who should have stood by me, who should have seen me as his own. Lila made sure of it."

Richard's expression darkened, a flicker of confusion and something dangerous crossing his face. "I'm so sorry, Aria," he whispered. He reached out, pulling me into a gentle embrace. His warmth was both foreign and comforting, a reminder of what I'd been denied for so long.

"I'll shield you," he said, his voice low but filled with unshakable conviction. "You are not worthless. There is something in you-something strong and fierce. It reminds me of my daughter. She was taken from me months ago. I can't... I can't change what happened to her. But perhaps, I can help you, and we can help each other."

A quiet moment passed as his words sank in. "What do you mean?" I asked, my voice trembling with hope and disbelief.

He pulled back, meeting my gaze with solemn eyes. "I want you to be my daughter, truly. I have no one left, just as you don't. Let us build something together. We'll move back to the city where I'm based, and you'll start a life-as my heir, as my daughter. Ivy Blackwood."

The sincerity in his words brought more tears. "Why... why would you do that?"

"Because you deserve better. And maybe, in helping you, I can find a reason to keep moving forward myself." He placed a hand on my shoulder, grounding me in a reality that still felt like a dream.

Just then, a knock echoed through the room. Richard stood, his jaw tightening. "Stay here. I'll return shortly." He strode out, leaving me alone with a heart too full of emotions I'd long thought impossible-hope, fear, yearning.

When he came back, his eyes were clear, a faint smile on his lips. "Just a minor issue. It's resolved now." He paused, studying me. "But there's one thing I need to know."

His tone shifted, becoming serious, and I felt my pulse quicken. "Why do they hate you so much, Aria? What's the real reason?"

A chill ran down my spine. I looked away, unable to meet his gaze. "Because..." I swallowed, the words clawing at my throat.

"Because I killed my younger brother."