Chapter One — The Lies We Wear
1590 Words
The glass in her hand trembled, but Aeris kept her smile razor-sharp.
The ballroom was drenched in excess—calendars spilling golden light over gowns worth more than bullets, laughter echoing off marble walls, and champagne flowing like secrets. Men in tailored suits eyed her with either respect or curiosity. Women whispered, jealous or intrigued. And Aeris? She stood beside her mark, wearing the most dangerous lie of her life: his bride-to-be.
Luca Moretti.
The mafia heir. The one man she was supposed to manipulate. Eliminate. Erase.
And now... the man she was engaged to.
She still couldn’t decide if the trap had closed around her—or if she’d walked right into it.
"You’ve been quiet." Luca’s voice cut through her thoughts like silk on steel. He stood inches from her, his scent—clove and smoke—soaked into her senses. His eyes, ever unreadable, flicked over her face. “Something wrong, fiancée?”
Every syllable felt like a threat and a caress.
“I’m just… overwhelmed,” Aeris replied, keeping her tone light. “You could’ve warned me, you know.”
He smirked. “You don’t like surprises?”
“I don’t like ambushes.”
“Then we’re even.”
That silenced her.
Because he knew. Not everything. Not yet. But enough to turn this game inside out.
Before she could speak again, Don Silvano’s voice echoed across the room, commanding silence.
“My son has chosen well,” he declared, raising a glass. “Elena Vargas is a woman of power and poise. She will make a fine queen.”
Queen.
Aeris swallowed.
They were painting her into a role she couldn’t afford to play—one where failure didn’t mean losing a badge or a mission. It meant death. Or worse, falling for the very man who was supposed to be her enemy.
She clinked her glass to Luca’s with a practiced smile, then leaned in. “Why now?”
Luca’s gaze locked on hers. “Because my enemies are watching. And so are yours.”
Three Hours Later
The limousine was silent as they left the gala. Aeris stared out the window, mind spinning.
This wasn’t part of the plan.
Her agency wanted intel. Patterns. Weaknesses. But now, being engaged to Luca Moretti meant she was no longer the hunter. She was the prize.
"Are you angry?" he asked, finally breaking the silence.
Aeris turned slowly. “Do I look angry?”
“No. You look like a woman planning an escape.”
“Should I be?”
He studied her for a moment. “Do you want to escape?”
Wrong answer = dead.
Right answer = still trapped.
She settled for the truth. “I want to know why you did it.”
Luca’s lips curved into something unreadable. “Because I needed you close. And because they trust blood more than love.”
“So this is about appearances?”
“Everything is about appearances,” he said softly. “You, of all people, should know that.”
His words dug deeper than she expected. Because beneath the layers of lies, she did know. Her whole life was built on false identities and borrowed names. She’d never belonged to anything real.
Until now.
Until this.
Which terrified her more than anything.
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Flashback — Two Years Ago
“You’re not like the others,” Reyes had said. “You don’t flinch. You don’t break.”
Aeris sat on the training mat, her ribs bruised, lip bleeding.
“Good,” she’d replied. “Feelings get you killed.”
“And what about trust?”
She’d laughed.
“There’s no such thing.”
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Present Day — Moretti Estate
The mansion was carved into a hillside overlooking the water, a fortress of glass, steel, and secrets. As the limo pulled into the gated driveway, Aeris felt the weight of the world she’d infiltrated press harder against her chest.
This wasn’t just about crime anymore. It was politics. Bloodlines. Legacy.
A maid greeted them at the door. Luca waved her off and led Aeris through a winding hallway to a room she hadn’t seen before.
It was a private study—dark wood, leather chairs, weapons displayed like artwork. And at the center, a desk lined with files.
Her file.
Every lie she’d crafted as Elena Vargas… laid bare.
She froze.
“I found it two days ago,” Luca said quietly. “Started digging after the ambush at the docks.”
He circled her slowly, voice calm. “You’re not Vargas. No daughter of an arms broker. No criminal past. Not even a birth certificate that checks out.”
Aeris’s fingers twitched toward her hidden blade.
“Relax,” he said. “If I wanted you dead, I’d have let my father do it.”
“Then why am I still here?”
Luca stopped behind her. “Because I’m curious.”
She turned to face him. “Curious?”
“About the girl who’s lying to the entire world... and still somehow feels more real than anyone I’ve ever met.”
The words caught her off guard.
And worse—they felt true.
A dangerous silence stretched between them.
Then Luca stepped closer, hands sliding into his pockets, voice low. “Tell me one thing—just one. Your real name.”
She shook her head. “I can’t.”
“Won’t.”
“Same difference.”
He smiled. “Then I guess we’ll have to get to know each other the old-fashioned way.”
She frowned. “Through arranged marriage?”
“Through war.”
Later That Night
She couldn’t sleep.
The room they’d given her was too soft. Too quiet. Too safe—which only made it more suspicious. Her agency hadn’t contacted her in 48 hours. Protocol dictated she stay embedded, continue observing. But Aeris had a bad feeling.
And bad feelings, in her experience, were almost always right.
She opened the window, letting in the cold night air, then crossed the room to the small desk where she’d hidden a burner phone beneath the drawer lining.
A quick text: “Status?”
Nothing.
Then: “Engaged to target. Confirm extraction date.”
Still nothing.
Her fingers tightened around the phone.
Either her line was compromised…
…or she’d been burned.
The Next Morning
Luca found her on the terrace, dressed in black slacks and a crisp white blouse, sipping bitter coffee like it could protect her from everything closing in.
“You didn’t sleep,” he said.
“Neither did you.”
He joined her at the table, setting down a folder. “I want to show you something.”
Inside were photos. Not of her.
Of targets. Government officials. Agents. People she recognized. Some were still active. Some were buried under “accidents.”
“These people tried to take us down,” Luca said. “Some were smarter than others. All of them underestimated how deep this game goes.”
“Why are you showing me this?” she asked.
“Because I’m not my father. And if you’re going to stay, I need to know what side you’re really on.”
“I’m not on any side,” she said.
Luca leaned in. “That’s the most dangerous place to be.”
They stared at each other for a long moment.
Then he stood. “Get dressed. We’re meeting my uncle in an hour.”
“Another family introduction?”
“No,” Luca said. “A test.”
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At the Warehouse
The building reeked of oil, sweat, and fear. Inside, a man knelt—bloody, restrained, trembling.
“Traitor,” Luca’s uncle spat. “He sold intel to the feds. We think your bride might recognize his contact.”
Aeris’s heart slammed against her ribs. Because she did recognize him.
Agent Marcos.
Her former partner.
She forced her expression to stay neutral.
“Do you know him?” Luca asked, watching her closely.
“No,” she lied.
Luca stepped back. “Then shoot him.”
Silence.
“What?”
His uncle sneered. “Initiation. Family loyalty. Show us you’re not a fed-loving liability.”
They handed her the gun.
Aeris stared at it, then at Marcos.
He looked up at her, recognition flickering in his battered eyes.
Help me, they begged.
Her fingers curled around the weapon.
She turned to Luca. “Is this your way of seeing how far I’ll go?”
“It’s not me who’s watching,” he replied softly. “It’s them.”
She knew she had seconds.
Shoot. Walk. Die.
So she pulled the trigger.
Not at Marcos.
But at the ground beside him.
“Gun jammed,” she said coolly, tossing the weapon aside. “Amateurs.”
The room froze.
Luca moved fast. “She’s not bluffing. She passed.”
His voice rang with authority.
His uncle looked unconvinced—but didn’t press further.
Marcos was dragged away.
And Aeris?
She’d just crossed another line.
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That Night — Luca’s Room
“You lied for me,” she said.
“You didn’t shoot him,” he replied.
They stood in his room—dark, quiet, charged.
“I couldn’t,” she whispered.
“I know.”
Silence. Thick. Heavy.
Luca reached out, brushing a hand along her jaw. “You’re not what I expected.”
“Neither are you.”
He leaned in, and this time, when their lips met, there was no calculation. No mission.
Just heat.
Just escape.
Just them.
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END OF CHAPTER ONE
- Writer
