MY FOREVER LOVE

Ariana Ross was putting the final touches on her nearly finished painting in her small, modest art studio when her phone rang. Her art studio, no bigger than a small bedroom, smelled faintly of paint thinner and dry clay. Sunlight streamed through the dusty window, catching flecks of color on her apron. She wiped her hands on her paint-stained apron and picked up the call.

"Hello?" she said, her voice calm but curious.

The voice on the other end was tense. "Miss Ross, your father has been arrested."

Her breath hitched. "What? Why?"

"I don't know all the details, but you need to get to the police station."

Without another word, she dropped her brush onto the palette, grabbed her bag, and rushed out the door. She hailed a cab to the police station which the caller had mentioned.

---

Cross Enterprise, the modest family business that produced handmade furniture, had always been steady. It wasn't glamorous, but it brought in enough-over a million in revenue each year. Still, Ariana knew things hadn't been good lately. Bills were piling up, orders were slowing, and her father, Cameron Ross, had been visibly stressed. But arrested? That didn't make sense.

Her grandfather, Lachlan Ross, was in the hospital, recovering from a heart condition. He had no idea the company was struggling, and now this? She couldn't even tell him-the shock might make things worse.

---

The police station was crowded when she arrived. Officers moved briskly and people murmured in hushed tones. Ariana approached the front desk, her fingers gripping the strap of her bag tightly.

"I'm here for Cameron Ross," she said, forcing her voice steady.

The officer behind the counter glanced at his computer. "Name?"

"Ariana Ross. His daughter."

He nodded and picked up a phone. After a short conversation, he motioned for her to wait.

A few minutes later, a detective stepped out. "Miss Ross? Follow me."

She walked beside him, her mind racing. "What's going on? Why was my father arrested?"

The detective sighed. "Fraud allegations. Someone reported financial misconduct at Cross Enterprise."

Ariana's stomach dropped. "That's impossible. My father would never-"

"We're still investigating," the detective interrupted. "You can see him, but he won't be released yet."

She clenched her hands into fists. This had to be a mistake. Or worse-someone had set him up.

---

Her heart pounded as he opened the door to a small interview room.

Inside, her father sat alone at the table, shoulders slumped, his usually calm eyes filled with something she rarely saw in him-defeat.

Cameron Ross looked exhausted when she saw him. His usual confident posture was slumped, and his eyes were tired.

"Dad," Ariana whispered, sitting across from him. "What happened?"

He looked up. "Ariana." His voice was hoarse. "I didn't do anything. I swear to you."

She took the seat across from him. "They said you were suspected of fraud and tax evasion...Why would they say that?"

He rubbed his face. "I don't know, Ari. The materials were fine-at least, I thought they were. Then suddenly, the police showed up at the office."

"Who would do this?"

He shook his head. "I've been trying to figure that out. Maybe a competitor. Maybe someone inside the company."

Ariana swallowed hard. With her grandfather in the hospital and the business in trouble, they were on their own.

"We'll fix this," she said firmly.

Cameron gave her a weak smile. "I hope so. I really hope so."

But as she left the station, the weight of their problems pressed down on her. Fixing this wouldn't be easy.

Ariana stepped out of the police station, the afternoon sun glaring down on her. She pulled out her phone, hesitated, then dialed her younger sister, Kiara. The call rang twice before Kiara's cheerful voice answered.

"Hey, Ari! Miss me already?" They had said their goodbyes earlier that morning before Kiara returned to school _she lived in the school's dormitory and occasionally visited Ariana's apartment.

Ariana forced a light tone. "Always. Just checking in. How's classes?"

"Ugh, stressful. Midterms next week," Kiara groaned. "But my dance rehearsal went great today. The instructor said I might get a solo!" Her voice tinged with pride.

Ariana smiled faintly. "That's amazing, Ki. You deserve it."

A pause. Then Kiara's voice turned suspicious. "Wait... why do you sound off? Is everything okay?"

Ariana's grip tightened on the phone. "Yeah, just tired. Been working on a big piece."

Kiara wasn't fooled. "Ari, tell me the truth."

Ariana exhaled sharply. She couldn't lie, not when things were this bad. "Dad's in trouble. He was arrested."

Silence. Then a sharp intake of breath. "What? For what?"

Ariana lowered her voice. "Fraud... tax evasion... some other stuff. It's bad, Kiara. Really bad."

Kiara's voice shook. "But-that's impossible! Dad would never-"

"I know," Ariana cut in. "But right now, we can't do anything. Grandpa's still in the hospital, and the business is sinking. I just... didn't want you to hear it from someone else."

Kiara was quiet for a long moment. "I'm coming home."

"No," Ariana said firmly. "You have midterms and that solo. We can't afford to lose your scholarship."

"But-"

"Kiara, listen. I'll handle this. Just focus on school, okay? Do it for Dad."

Kiara sniffed. "This isn't fair."

Ariana closed her eyes. "I know."

She hung up, her chest heavy. The little money she made from selling paintings wouldn't even cover a good lawyer. And the charges-tax evasion, money laundering, even drug trafficking? None of it made sense. Her father was strict, even stubborn, but he wasn't a criminal.

Ariana boarded a bus, her expression blank as she stared out the window, barely noticing the city passing by. The ride felt longer than usual, every stop stretching the tension coiled in her chest. When she finally reached her apartment-a simple, modest two-bedroom space-she fumbled with her keys before unlocking the door.

She dropped her bag by the couch, her paint-stained apron still tied around her waist. Without thinking, she grabbed a glass from the kitchen cabinet and filled it with water, drinking deeply to steady herself. Her hands trembled slightly as she set the glass down.

She pulled out her phone again, scrolling through her contacts until she found the name: Martin Cole. Her father's longtime friend and their family lawyer-a middle-aged man who wasn't the most elite in the field but had enough experience. She hit the call button and pressed the phone to her ear, pacing the small living room.

After two rings, a gruff voice answered. "Martin Cole."

"Martin, it's Ariana," she said, her voice tighter than she intended. "I need your help. Dad's been arrested."

There was a brief pause on the other end before Martin let out a heavy sigh. "I heard. I'm sorry. The charges are serious, Ariana. Fraud, tax evasion-they're even throwing around drug trafficking, though I doubt there's any real evidence for that."

Her stomach twisted. "Drug trafficking? That's ridiculous. You know Dad would never-" You've known him for years-"

"I know he's not guilty," Martin interrupted. "But the prosecution is aggressive. They've been building the case for a while now, apparently. Someone tipped them off."

Ariana stopped pacing, her free hand clenching into a fist. "Who would do that?"

"It could be a disgruntled employee, maybe a competitor," Martin said. "Right now, we need to focus on proving his innocence. I'll request a bail hearing, but with these charges, it won't be easy."

She swallowed hard. "What do we do in the meantime?"

"Gather everything you can-financial records, contracts, anything that faults the allegation. And don't talk to the press or anyone else about this. One wrong word could make things worse."

Ariana nodded, even though he couldn't see her. "I'll go through his files at the office tonight."

"Be careful," Martin warned. "If this is a setup, that person wouldn't want the truth getting out."

The line went quiet for a moment before Ariana whispered, "Do you think he'll get out?"

Martin hesitated. "I'll do everything I can. But you need to prepare for the worst, Ariana. These kinds of cases... they don't end quickly."

She closed her eyes, fighting the lump in her throat. "Just get him out, Martin. Please."

"I'll call you as soon as I have updates," he said before hanging up.

Ariana lowered the phone, her legs suddenly weak. She sank onto the couch, staring blankly at the half-finished painting leaning against the wall-a peaceful landscape that now felt worlds away from her reality.

She had no choice. She had to find out who was behind this. Before it was too late.

Ariana stood up from the couch and walked to her bedroom. She changed out of her paint-stained clothes into a plain black t-shirt and jeans. She grabbed her keys and a small flashlight from the drawer, then left the apartment, locking the door behind her.

The evening air was cool as she walked to the bus stop. She checked the schedule on her phone and saw the next bus to Cross Enterprise's office building would arrive in seven minutes. She sat on the bench and waited, her mind focused on what she needed to do.

When the bus arrived, she boarded, swiped her card, and took a seat near the back. The bus ride to Cross Enterprise felt endless. Every bump in the road jarred her nerves. She sat near the back, away from the few passengers who boarded and exited quietly. She kept her head down, her bag clutched tightly on her lap. She got off at the stop closest to the office and walked the remaining two blocks. The building was dark except for the security light near the entrance. After ascending the elevator through the underground parking lot, she used her key to unlock the front door of the hallway leading to her father's office and stepped inside, flipping on the lights.

The office looked the same as always-neat but worn. Her father's desk sat in the corner, piled with paperwork. She went straight to the filing cabinet behind it and pulled open the top drawer. She started sorting through the financial records, looking for anything unusual.

After ten minutes of searching, she found a folder labeled "Vendor Payments – Q3." Inside, several invoices had red marks next to them, along with handwritten notes she didn't recognize. The amounts didn't match the company's usual suppliers. She took photos of each page with her phone.

A noise from the hallway made her freeze. She turned off the flashlight and listened. Footsteps. Someone was inside the building.

She closed the drawer quietly and moved toward the back exit. Before she could reach it, the office door swung open. A tall, middle-aged man in a dark jacket stood there, his expression unreadable.

"Ariana," he said. "You shouldn't be here."

She recognized him-Daniel Collins, the company's operations manager. He worked with her father for years, oversaw operations, and handled most of the daily affairs. Ariana had never liked him-Tonight, he looked even sharper in his dark jacket, but there was no friendliness in his face. Just suspicion.

"I needed some files," she said, keeping her voice steady.

Daniel stepped closer. "It's not safe. The police might come back. You could be interfering with their investigations."

She held up the folder. "Then maybe you can explain why these payments don't add up. Who approved them?"

His jaw tightened. "That's not your concern."

She slipped the folder into her bag. "It is now."

Daniel's hand shot out, grabbing her wrist. "Give it back."

She yanked free and backed toward the door. "Tell me what's going on, Daniel."

He didn't answer. Instead, he pulled out his phone and dialed a number. "She's here," he said quietly.

Ariana didn't wait to hear more. She turned and ran out of the office. Down the back hallway. Her footsteps echoed off the walls as she shoved open the exit door and bolted into the night. She didn't stop running until she was several blocks away. She rounded the corner and ducked into a convenience store, losing herself in the crowd.

Her phone buzzed. A text from Martin: "Don't go to the office. Call me as soon as you can."

She ignored it for now. She needed to get home first. She hailed a cab and gave the driver her address, clutching the folder in her bag like a treasure.

The cab ride home passed in tense silence. Ariana kept checking the side mirror to see if anyone followed them, but the streets remained clear. The driver didn't talk. Ariana stared out the window the entire ride, still clutching her bag. Her mind kept replaying Daniel's words, his grip, that quiet phone call. Who was he talking to? Why lie about the invoices? What if this went deeper than she thought?

When they reached her apartment building, she paid the driver in cash and hurried inside, taking the stairs two at a time.

She locked her apartment door behind her and immediately pulled the blinds shut. After dumping the folder on her small dining table, she slumped tiredly on one of the chairs spreading the documents out and examined them again. The red-marked invoices were all from a company called "Bracken Supplies"-a name she'd never heard her father mention. The amounts were large, but the descriptions were vague: "materials," "logistics," "consultation." Nothing specific.

Her phone buzzed. Martin again. This time she answered.

"Where are you?" His voice was tight.

"Home," she said. "I found something. Invoices that don't make sense."

"You went to the office?" Martin sounded frustrated. "I told you not to. It's not safe."

"Daniel was there," she said. "He tried to stop me from leaving."

"Daniel Collins? The company's operations manager?"

"Yes. He made one cryptic call before I took to my heels. His behavior was really strange."

Martin exhaled sharply. "Listen carefully. Don't go anywhere. Don't talk to anyone else. I'm coming over."

She hung up and returned to the documents. In the corner of one invoice, she noticed a smudged stamp-part of an address. She held it up to the light. The first few letters were clear: "BRACK..." followed by numbers that might be a street address.

Her laptop was on the coffee table. She opened it and searched for Bracken Supplies. Nothing came up. She tried adding the partial address, but still no results. The company either didn't exist or was carefully hidden.

A knock at the door made her jump. She closed the laptop.

"Martin?" she called.

"Yes. It's me."

She checked through the peephole before unlocking the door. Martin stood there in a rumpled suit, his briefcase in hand. He stepped inside and locked the door behind him.

"Show me what you found," he said.

She led him to the table. Martin scanned the documents, his frown deepening. After a minute, he pulled out his phone and took pictures of each page.

"This is bad," he muttered. "If these are fake invoices used to siphon money..."

"Then someone framed him," she finished.

Martin nodded. "But we need proof of who. And why."

Ariana pointed to the smudged stamp. "I tried tracing this. But I didn't find anything."

Martin studied it. "I know a guy who can trace shell companies. But it'll take time." He gathered the papers. "I'm taking these. You stay inside. If anyone contacts you -- especially Daniel-- you call me. Uunderstood?"

She nodded. As Martin left, she locked the door again and sat on the couch, staring at her silent phone.

Then it rang.

An unknown number.

She hesitated before answering. "Hello?"

A distorted voice spoke slowly. "Stop digging, Ariana. Or your father won't be the only one in jail."

The line went dead.

She set the phone down carefully. Outside, Martin's car engine started and faded into the distance.

Ariana sat frozen on the couch for several minutes, the lawyer's warning echoing in her mind. The evening light was fading through her small apartment window. She knew she should eat something, but the thought of food made her sick.

Her phone buzzed again. This time it was Kiara.

"I booked a train ticket. I'll be at your place soon."

Ariana's fingers flew across the screen. "No. Stay in your dorm. There's nothing you can do here."

The reply came instantly. "He's my dad too. I'm coming."

Ariana threw her phone onto the couch in frustration. She couldn't deal with Kiara's stubbornness right now. Getting up, she walked to the kitchen and filled a glass with water. Her hands shook slightly as she drank.

The apartment felt suffocating. She grabbed her jacket and headed back out into the cooling evening air. Maybe a walk would clear her head.

As she turned the corner near the local grocery store, she noticed a man in a dark jacket leaning against a lamppost. He wasn't looking at her, but something about the way he stood made her uneasy. She quickened her pace, turning down a busier street.

When she glanced back, the man was gone.

Ariana let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. She was being paranoid. Still, she changed direction and headed toward the well-lit main road where people still crowded the sidewalks.

Her phone rang suddenly, making her jump. It was an unknown number again.

"Hello?" she answered cautiously.

A male voice, smooth and calm, said, "Miss Ross, we should talk. About your father's situation."

"Who is this?"

"Someone who can help. Meet me at the diner on 5th and Maple. One hour." The line went dead.

Ariana stared at her phone. This could be a trap. But what choice did she have? She needed answers.

She arrived at the diner early and chose a booth near the back where she could see the door. The place was half-empty - just a couple at the counter and an old man reading a newspaper.

Twenty minutes later, a tall man in a gray suit entered. He scanned the room, then walked straight to her table.

"Miss Ross," he said, sliding into the booth across from her. "I appreciate you coming."

Up close, she could see he was older than she first thought, maybe in his fifties, with sharp gray eyes.

"Who are you?" she demanded.

"My name isn't important. What matters is I know the truth about your father's arrest." He pulled a folded document from his inside pocket and slid it across the table.

Ariana opened it carefully. It was a bank statement showing large transfers from Cross Enterprise to an offshore account.

"This is fake," she said immediately.

The man smiled slightly. "Of course it is. But it's the evidence they're using against him."

"Why are you showing me this?"

"Because," he said, lowering his voice, "I helped create these documents. And for the right price, I can make them disappear."

Ariana's blood ran cold. "You're admitting to framing my father?"

The man shrugged. "Business is business, Miss Ross. Now, can you raise two hundred thousand dollars by Friday?"

She stared at him in disbelief. "That's impossible."

"Then your father goes to prison." He stood up, adjusting his suit jacket. "Think about it. I'll call you tomorrow."

As he walked away, Ariana sat frozen, the fake bank statement crumpling in her shaking hands. She had three days to find money she didn't have, or her father would be destroyed.

Ariana sat in the diner booth for ten minutes after the man left, staring at the crumpled document. The waitress came by to ask if she wanted anything. She ordered coffee just to have something to do with her hands.

When the coffee arrived, she pulled out her phone and called Martin Cole again. He answered on the third ring.

"I just got approached by someone claiming they framed my Dad," she said quietly. "They want two hundred thousand to make it go away."

Martin's voice turned sharp. "Where are you right now?"

"Diner on 5th and Maple. He just left."

"Stay there. I'm sending a colleague to pick you up."

She sipped the bitter coffee while waiting. Twenty minutes later, a woman in a navy pantsuit entered and walked straight to her table.

"Ariana Ross? I'm Lisa Grady, Martin's associate. Let's go."

They took a taxi to Martin's office. He was waiting behind his desk with two other men in suits when they arrived.

"What happened?" Martin asked.

Ariana repeated the conversation word for word and handed over the document. The men examined it carefully.

"This looks real," one of them said. "But we'll need to verify."

Martin leaned forward. "This can help. If we can prove the evidence was fabricated..."

"Can we afford to wait?" Ariana asked. "He gave me until Friday."

One of the other men spoke up. "We'll put a tail on you. If he contacts you again, we'll be ready to identify him."

Martin nodded. "In the meantime, act normal. Go home, get some rest. We'll handle the investigation from here."

Ariana took a taxi back to her apartment. As she unlocked the door, she noticed the light under Kiara's bedroom door was on. She pushed it open.

At a glance, they could be mistaken for twins-but only from a distance.

Up close, the differences were there, subtle but real.

Ariana, five years older, had a calmer energy-elegant, reserved, with high cheekbones and a steady gaze that rarely flickered. Her face carried the quiet weight of responsibility. Her dark hair was usually tied up, her figure slim but womanly, like someone who had grown into herself slowly, with intention.

Kiara, on the other hand, was more lean than slim-like someone who hadn't yet filled into her frame. Her features were a touch softer, her eyes rounder, more expressive, more charming than beautiful, with a glow that came not from grace but youth. Her dark hair, though the same shade as Ariana's, was worn loose and wild. And while Ariana moved like silence, Kiara always felt like a pulse-bright, emotional, unfiltered.

Kiara sat on her bed, suitcase open beside her. "I took an earlier train," she said.

Ariana sighed. "You shouldn't have come," she said, closing the door behind her.

Kiara stood, defiant. "I couldn't just sit at school and do nothing."

Ariana ran a hand through her hair. "You have midterms, Ki. A solo performance. You risk everything by being here."

"Dad is in jail. Grandpa is in the hospital. And you think I should be stretching in a rehearsal hall like nothing happened?" Kiara snapped. Her voice cracked slightly, not from anger-but panic.

Ariana's shoulders softened. "I'm not asking you to pretend."

Kiara crossed her arms, her jaw tense. "You're not the only one who cares, Ari."

Silence fell between them.

Ariana finally sat on the edge of the bed, her tone quieter. "I just don't want you dragged into this."

"I already am," Kiara replied, dropping beside her. "We're in this together, right?"

Ariana hesitated, then nodded.

"I already called Grandpa's nurse. He's stable." Kiara stood up. "Now tell me what's really going on."

Ariana explained everything. Kiara listened quietly, then picked up her phone.

"I know someone who might help," she said. "My dance sponsor has connections."

Ariana's eyes narrowed. "Sebastian Harris? That real estate tycoon?"

Kiara nodded as she held up her phone, the glow casting shadows on her face in the dark apartment. "Mr. Harris sponsors my education and dance scholarships. He owns half the commercial buildings in the city. If anyone can help fast, it's him."

Ariana rubbed her temples. "What exactly are you suggesting?"

"We go see him tomorrow and explain the situation."

"And what do we offer in return? We have no money, no connections-"

"He likes talent," Kiara said simply. "Maybe you paint something for one of his buildings. Maybe I perform at an event. It's worth asking."

Ariana paced the small living room, her socked feet silent on the worn carpet. The electricity had come back on ten minutes ago, but neither of them had touched the lights.

"Fine," she finally said. "But we go together. And we leave if anything feels off."

"I know it sounds crazy," Kiara added. "But he's powerful. He knows people. And right now, we need every card we can play."

Ariana nodded.

Kiara smiled. "You'll see. He's not that bad."

Ariana didn't respond.

Because something in her gut whispered otherwise.

---

The next morning found them standing outside a sleek downtown office building. Kiara smoothed her skirt nervously as they approached the reception desk.

"I-I'm here to see Mr. Harris" she told the receptionist.

"Are you Kiara Ross?"

"Yes."

"Take the elevator to the twentieth floor, turn right, and you'll find the CEO's office." The receptionist handed her an elevator card, and she thanked her before walking into the Harris Corporation building with Ariana in tow.

The elevator ride to the top floor was silent. When the doors opened, they stepped into a spacious waiting area with floor-to-ceiling windows. A stern-looking secretary gestured them toward a heavy wooden door.

Sebastian Harris stood by the window, his back to them as they entered. This was the first time Kiara was seeing him in person.

Despite having received his scholarship since her first year in high school, she'd never spoken to him directly. All communication had passed through the school administrator. His name had always hovered like a myth-the head of the Harris family, powerful and distant. A man who funded dozens of dreams, yet never appeared at award events or school ceremonies.

And now, suddenly, here he was. From his reflection in the floor-to-ceiling window _Sebastian was tall, lean but solid, with the kind of posture that needed no announcement. His fair skin had a rich smoothness, his jaw was sharp, clean-shaven, and his gray eyes unreadable. He wore a fitted suit that looked like it belonged on a magazine cover-gray and quietly expensive.

There was something about him-too composed, too still. A man who never raised his voice because he never had to.

Kiara's heart stuttered for a second. She didn't show it, but for a brief, involuntary moment... she was a little stunned.

He was handsome-undeniably so. But it wasn't just that. He looked dangerous in the way a storm cloud did before it broke. Silent, collected, but heavy with power.

Then he turned slowly, revealing sharp features and cold gray eyes that swept over them both before settling on Kiara.

"Miss Ross," he said. "I see you brought company."