Chapter 9 Shadows and secrets

The days following the fundraiser were a blur of emotions. Aria kept reliving the dance with Kael-his closeness, the way he looked at her like she was the only person in the world. It unnerved her, not just because it felt dangerously intimate, but because a part of her-one she didn't want to acknowledge-had liked it. Her father noticed her growing distraction. Over dinner, he eyed her carefully between bites of jollof rice. "You've been quiet lately. Everything alright at school?" "Yes, Dad," she said too quickly, stabbing her fork into her plate.

"You'd tell me if something was wrong, right?" Chief Mensah asked gently. She forced a smile. "Of course." But something *was* wrong. Kael Romanov had become a part of her world, and he was impossible to ignore. He was in two of her classes now-transfer student arrangements, they said. Every time he walked into a room, eyes followed him. And every time their gazes met, Aria felt her resolve chip away. After class one afternoon, he leaned against her locker. "Still pretending you don't want to talk to me?" "I'm not pretending," she said, brushing past him. But he followed. "Walk with me." Against her better judgment, she did. They ended up at the library garden-an old, secluded spot students barely visited. As they sat on the stone bench under the bougainvillea, Kael surprised her. "My mother used to bring me to places like this," he said quietly. "Before everything... changed." Aria looked at him. "Before your family became the Romanovs?" He nodded. "Before my father took over. Before I had to grow into a name soaked in blood and fear." There was vulnerability in his voice. Real. Raw. Not the Kael who smirked and flirted, but someone else. Someone human. "Why are you telling me this?" she asked, unsure whether to trust what she heard. "Because I want you to see me. Not the name. Not the rumors. Me." Her heartbeat stuttered. He was breaking down her walls, brick by careful brick. That night, Aria couldn't sleep. She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling fan spinning in lazy circles. What did it mean that Kael trusted her? That he wanted her to see him? She was drawn to him. But what would it cost her? The night air hung heavy with silence as Aria stood outside the warehouse, heart pounding. The message had been cryptic, but something about it felt... undeniable. She needed answers. The further she was drawn into Kael Romanov's orbit, the more tangled the lines became between what she knew and what she feared. Pushing the rusty door open, a groan echoed into the emptiness. The place was dimly lit by a single overhead bulb that flickered like a dying star. Shadows clung to the walls, stretching long and twitchy. Inside stood a man, face half-shrouded in darkness, dressed in a worn leather jacket. He had the tired look of someone who'd spent years looking over his shoulder. "You're early," he said, his voice rough like gravel. "I'm not staying long," Aria shot back. "Who are you? Why did you bring me here?" He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he motioned to a cluttered table in the center of the room. Spread across it were folders, grainy photographs, and what looked like police case files. Her eyes scanned the mess-until they froze. There she was. Captured in candid stills-walking on campus, talking to Kael, smiling at the fundraiser. The timestamps were recent. The realization hit like a slap: someone had been watching her. Closely. "You've been spying on me?" she whispered, voice shaky. "Not me," the man said. "Them. The Romanovs. Kael." Her heart clenched. "You're lying." He stepped closer. "I used to work for your father. I was on the force when we tried to take down Viktor Romanov ten years ago. I saw firsthand what they were capable of. Your father protected you, kept you away from the worst of it. But Kael? He's not just some rebel bad boy. He was raised to be the family's next weapon." Aria wanted to scream. Her mind reeled, fighting the information. "Then why did you call me here?" "Because I know you're smart. Smarter than your father gives you credit for. And because you have a right to know who's pulling the strings." He handed her a folder. "Start here." Reluctantly, she opened it. Inside were reports-Kael's juvenile records sealed by influence, lists of associates, and surveillance photos of him in what looked like backroom meetings. But what chilled her was the last page. A photo of Kael with his father, Viktor Romanov. The two stood in front of a burned-out building, blood smeared on Kael's shirt. His smirk, the same one that used to charm her, now looked menacing. The man's voice softened. "You think Kael's different from them? Maybe. But don't forget what family he comes from. Don't forget what they've done." Aria backed away. "This doesn't prove anything. People change." "And some never do." Suddenly, a sound cracked in the distance. Both of them stiffened. "They're here," the man said, grabbing a burner phone. "Get out the back. Now." She ran, adrenaline pumping. As she emerged into the night, her thoughts blurred into chaos. Kael's laugh. His touch. His sincerity-or was it all rehearsed? She didn't know what to believe anymore. Back in her room, she stared at the photos in her hands, her father's warnings echoing in her ears. Maybe she'd gotten too close. Maybe she'd already fallen too far. And still, a part of her-despite everything-wanted to see Kael again. To look into his eyes and ask: Was any of it real?