Chapter 2 SILENT CHAOS

Aria's POV

I whip the door shut after me.

The restroom walls feel tight, cold, and quiet. I'm breathing way too fast, making my chest heaving with shallow breaths. The air's loaded with the smell of lavender soap and some fake scent, a nauseatingly clean aroma that just makes my stomach churn even more.

I stumble over to the sink, holding on so hard my knuckles go pale. My reflection shows wild eyes and shaking lips, with humiliation creeping in.

Rachel's voice remains in my thoughts, squeezing like a noose.

"Did you pick it up from an antique store?"

Laughter, gentle but ruthless. The sound of champagne glasses clinking together.

I shut my eyes tight.

I don't need to shed any tears.

I have to show them they can't win.

This weight is just too heavy. Years of being in the shadows, always an afterthought and never quite enough-it all comes tumbling down at once. I want to stop the tears, but then the dam breaks loose.

I feel hot tears rolling down my cheeks, filled with rage, and shame knots in my stomach as I try to muffle a sob with my hand. My shoulders are trembling. My throat burns with bile as I swallow it, but the ache still lingers under my skin.

I can't tell you how long I was just standing there, quaking and barely keeping myself intact before I catch a sound of movement.

I get frozen in place.

I catch a quick look at a shadow that's sneaking up next to me. I catch my breath and feel my body tense up. I didn't notice anyone enter.

A hand appears before me, silently offering a handkerchief.

My eyes feel watery and blurry when I look at it. There's a part of me that holds back, but I still reach out, my fingers touching warm skin as I take it.

I don't bother looking up because I can't. Not in this form.

I look away and press the soft cloth against my wet cheeks. There's a slight fragrance of cedar and some dark notes-spicy, dude-like, and not what I'm used to. I take a deep breath, trying to calm my shaking hands while I clean up the signs of my vulnerability.

Letting out a big breath. I blink a couple of times to shake off the haze in my head.

I straighten.

Finally, I go ahead and turn.

I gasp a little at the figure before me.

Standing before me is a man who looks like he shouldn't exist.

He's stunning, as if he emerged from an artist's dream. He has a sharp jawline, straight nose, and full lips, but his eyes captivate me more. Blue and inviting.

He's staring at me, calm and hard to read.

And for the first time in my life, I feel seen.

I don't feel overlooked and tolerated like before.

I feel a chill go down my back when I noticed how close he is. He's so near that I can sense his warmth surrounding me, and I see the confidence in his stance along with the steady intensity in his posture.

I should probably go out now. I want to speak.

But my body lets me down instead.

I find myself moving automatically, exhaustion nudging me along, and suddenly I feel his heat, his powerful arms holding me tight and the rhythm of his heartbeat on my face.

I didn't notice I was resting against him, and then bam! He's got me in his arms, super gentle but also making sure I'm okay like I could break if he puts too much pressure on me.

I quickly closed my eyes for a bit.

I feel secure in his arms.

I'm not sure how long I was there, but as soon as I figured out what I did, my whole body tensed up.

I pull back suddenly, feeling my heart race.

"I-I didn't mean to, sorry about that,"

There's an air of mystery in his gaze. "You don't have to apologize." He says.

I can feel blush creeping up my neck. I don't wait for him to say anything else.

I turn on my heel-

And vanish.

************

Viviene's POV

I'm standing at the edge of the ballroom, holding my champagne glass, feeling the chill on my palm. The elegance in this room is off the charts-gold chandeliers shine warmly over the polished marble, as laughter and gentle conversations dance with the music, making it a true display of riches and authority which I built with my father over the years.

Everything is as it should be. Today is supposed to be perfect and I have my fair share of happiness as always.

But still, I can't stop thinking about one thing.

Damien.

I spot him from afar, his broad shoulders tense as he scans the crowd uncomfortably. He isn't just looking around. He looks like he's looking for someone. My stomach knots up while I watch his restless eyes dart around, glancing over tons of faces and brushing them off in an instant.

I suddenly get who he's trying to find.

Aria. They must have met.

I feel a harsh taste on my tongue, so I hold my glass more firmly. Of course. It's always that girl, huh? That low life who doesn't amount to anything, the one everyone overlooked, but somehow she finds her way into places she shouldn't be. I had a feeling this would happen- The fool is damn pretty, and I figured Damien wouldn't be able to overlook her beauty; I thought I was all set for it. Thinking of it alone hits me hard inside.

I can't help but move, gliding around the room with a smoothness I've mastered over time. My heels tap gently on the marble floor while I maintain a calm look and stand tall. As I get to him, I give a little head tilt and flash a shiny smile.

I whisper, "Damien," with a smooth voice and a touch of playful amusement. "Where'd you sneak off to?"

He takes his time to respond, still looking around; his thoughts are off somewhere else, and for a frustrating second, I might as well not even be here for him.

I hook my arm around him, gently bringing him closer to me. I say in a friendly tone, "Why don't you come back inside? Everyone's waiting."

He pauses.

I catch a glimpse of it for just a second, not even long enough to take it in, but I notice it. Then he gives a slow nod.

I should be feeling pretty victorious after successfully distracting him. I should feel good about keeping him in check and getting him back on track, but I see him looking back at the hallway, and there's a little wrinkle on his forehead. Like he's worried she might be in trouble.

And I immediately start feeling uncomfortable again. Damien now seems far from me even if he's just beside me.

I make myself hold it back.

This has to stop now.

I know who to reach out to.

I see my mom, Rachel, on the other side of the ballroom, looking super graceful with her red lips turned up in a cheeky smile. She gets me, always sensing what I'm not saying.

"Aria is a problem," I tell her softly, my words meant only for her ears.

Mom keeps a straight face, but I can tell she gets it.

Aria's not going to be an issue for long.

No need to keep an eye out; I know Mom's already starting to take action. A quiet word to the right ear. An instruction would be given. A couple of smooth moves, and Aria won't even notice what's going on.

She gets taken away effortlessly, with just a little nudge to steer her.

She'll believe her dad is calling for her.

Of course, she'll follow.

Why wouldn't she want to?

She'll step into the room, and the door will click closed right after.

I can guess what comes next without being there.

I can picture it perfectly-her confused frown as she calls out, 'Father?' and takes another cautious step ahead.

One second goes by.

Then another.

The atmosphere changes.

The sound hisses softly, just out of earshot for now, but Aria will figure it out soon. She'll make a face at the strong odour, instinct kicking in before she even thinks about it. She'll trip up, reaching for the door handle. She'll pull and twist-

But it won't budge.

That's when her nerves are going to get intense.

She'll hit the door hard, fighting for breath as the gas leaks in, making it tough to inhale and rough on her throat. She'll try to let out a scream, but it's gonna sound pretty weak and raspy.

Outside, the party continues.

She doesn't get heard by anyone.

Nobody gives a damn.

I take my time sipping champagne, enjoying the fizz on my tongue while keeping a cool and enigmatic expression.

People will only realize she's gone when it's already too late.