Cruel Love

Chapter 6

The chirping of birds gently roused Aria from her slumber. Unlike other days, she found herself in no hurry today. It was the weekend, a precious break from the bustle of her workplace. Moreover, her stepmother and sister were not at home. For the first time in years, the oppressive silence of the house didn't feel like a shroud; it felt like a sanctuary, free from her stepmother's sharp tongue and her sister's haughty sneers.

Their sudden departure the night before still lingered in her mind. Seeing them leave with suitcases had left her confused, and she couldn't shake the feeling that they were keeping something from her. Whenever she asked, they simply told her they were going on vacation, offering no real explanation. In the end, she pushed her suspicions aside and resolved to make the most of her day.

She stretched until her spine popped, savoring the rare luxury of moving at her own pace, then made herself pancakes and bacon and ate them slowly, standing at the counter, in a kitchen that for once didn't feel like it belonged to someone else.

A cozy sweater, a grocery list scribbled on the back of a receipt, and she was out the door, the morning air sharp enough to wake her the rest of the way.

"Hey, Ari! You look fresh today!"

She jumped so hard her heart nearly left her chest. Spinning around, she found David grinning at her like he hadn't just taken ten years off her life.

"David!" She smacked his arm. "You scared the living daylights out of me."

"Sorry, Ari." He didn't look sorry at all; if anything, the twinkle in his eyes said he'd enjoyed it, and he reached for her hair the way he always did.

"Hey! Stop that." She batted his hand away, unable to fully smother her smile. David's teasing had always been like this, familiar, uncomplicated, safe.

They fell into step together, Aria filling her basket while David trailed behind, humming something under his breath and occasionally leaning in to inspect whatever she picked up.

"What are you up to today?" he asked, peering at the jar of strawberry jam in her hands.

"Nothing special," she said, quieter than she meant to. Her stepmother's voice had a way of following her even into empty houses, reciting rules that weren't even being enforced today.

"Then come hang out with me tonight!"

Her head snapped up. A flicker of longing sparked in her chest. The thought of escaping the confines of her home was an irresistible temptation. But the familiar weight of her circumstances settled on her shoulders.

"David, I can't," she replied, the words heavy with disappointment. She hated the helplessness in her own voice.

"But didn't you say your stepmom was out of town?" David pressed, a hint of confusion furrowing his brow.

"Nobody will know, Ari. You're coming with me, and that's final." He said this with a playful air, shoving his hands into his pockets, a gesture that spoke volumes about his determination.

Aria opened her mouth to protest, a million reasons swirling on her tongue. But David, oblivious to her internal battle, flashed a winning smile and chirped, "I'll pick you up at seven. Don't you dare ditch me, Ari!" With a wink, he darted out of the store, leaving Aria standing alone amidst the aisles.

.....................................................................

Zane stood in the middle of one of his business parties, his arm casually draped around the waist of a random woman he had picked for the occasion. The hall buzzed with affluent guests dressed in expensive attire, a testament to the wealth and status gathered within. Marble stretched beneath their feet, hand-carved wood adorned the walls, and ornate chandeliers scattered warm light across a room full of people who mistook wealth for importance.

Zane was mid-sentence, deep in a conversation about a project with more zeroes than most people would see in a lifetime, when his phone cut through the noise.

"Excuse me," he said, and stepped away without waiting for a reply.

"Yeah, Chris."

"Zane. I have something. It's about your father." Chris's voice had none of its usual ease.

"I'm on my way."

He didn't look back at the woman he'd left standing there. Her voice chased him across the room. "Zane, wait for me!" but it may as well have been static. He was already gone.

He waved off the valet, snatched his keys from his driver before the man could open the door for him. The driver, sensing the urgency, stepped aside, bowing his head respectfully.

Sliding behind the wheel, Zane slammed the door shut. The engine roared to life, and he peeled out of the driveway, leaving a trail of burning rubber and disregarded traffic laws in his wake. Every red light, every stop sign, was an obstacle to be conquered, not obeyed. The once-luxurious car became an extension of his frantic state, hurtling him towards Chris's house at breakneck speed.

With a screech that could wake the dead, Zane brought the car to a jarring halt in front of Chris's residence. He barely slammed the door shut before his fist was hammering on the door. It creaked open seconds later, revealing a Chris whose face mirrored Zane's agitation.

"What did you find?" His voice was tight with impatience.

"Come." Chris didn't elaborate. He turned and led the way inside, and Zane followed, the silence between them heavier than anything either of them could have said.

Inside the office, Chris didn't waste time on preamble. "That day. When Uncle Mathew was killed, he was on duty. He saw two men trying to assault a woman. He stepped in to stop them."

Zane stared, his mind struggling to process the new reality. His father, the epitome of honor, was slain not for some crime, but for a selfless act of courage.

"How did you..." Zane rasped, his voice barely a whisper. "How did you find this out?"

"Take a look at this," Chris said, turning a monitor toward Zane. On the screen flickered grainy black-and-white footage, a street corner, and two figures wrestling in the darkness. It was a brief, chaotic scene, ending abruptly with a sickening thud.

"This is the CCTV footage from your father's day of murder," Chris explained. "It only shows the part of your father fighting with those men. It got erased, someone claiming the camera broke that day. But my men, they don't give up easily."

A flicker of hope ignited in Zane's eyes, then quickly died. "This... this isn't enough," he muttered, the anger simmering beneath the surface starting to bubble over. "We need more. We need to see what happened after."

"Exactly," Chris said, his grim expression mirroring Zane's own. "The remaining footage, that's what will reveal the truth. That footage will prove Uncle Mathew was innocent. That woman..." his voice laced with disgust, "that woman totally lied."

Zane's hands clenched into fists. His father, his inspiration, the man who instilled in him the values of honor and justice, was murdered for trying to do the right thing. The rage threatened to consume him.

"Where is that woman?" Zane growled, his voice laced with a dangerous edge.

Chris reached into his desk drawer and pulled out an envelope. "Here are the details about her," he said, his voice a steady counterpoint to Zane's fury. "She lives with her two daughters."

Zane ripped open the envelope, a flurry of photographs tumbling out. His eyes scanned them, anger twisting his features. Then, amidst the faces, a single image stopped him cold. A young girl, her eyes bright blue, stared back at him.

"Who is she?" Zane stammered, a flicker of recognition sending a jolt through him.

"Her daughter, Aria," Chris replied.

The name echoed in the room, the connection slamming into Zane. That blue-eyed girl from the gift shop. The girl who brought a smile to his sister's face.