Chapter 4: Pieces of broken past
1242 Words
The drive back to Wilder Estate was a silent war.
Aria sat pressed against the door, her fingers digging into the satin folds of her gown, heart racing from the confrontation. Her mind wasn’t on the gala, the contract, or even the broken glass she'd left on the ballroom floor.
It was on one name.
Ezra Lang.
And the truth Knox Wilder had stolen from her.
She turned her head sharply. “You knew he would be there.”
Knox didn’t answer.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Her voice rose, fueled by confusion and the ache of being manipulated.
Still nothing.
The lights of the city flashed across his face—sharp cheekbones, stone-cold expression, unreadable eyes. It infuriated her.
“I asked you a question.”
He finally looked at her. “And I’m choosing not to answer it.”
“That’s not how this works, Knox,” she snapped. “I might be your fake wife, but I’m not your prisoner.”
Knox leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “No, you’re not my prisoner. But you're tied to something much bigger than this contract—and whether you believe it or not, I’m trying to keep you alive.”
Her breath caught. “What does that mean?”
But he sat back, hands clasped, gaze forward.
“Your father wasn’t who you thought he was, Aria.”
She flinched. “You didn’t know him.”
“Yes,” he said coldly. “I did.”
The car screeched to a stop in the estate’s circular driveway before she could respond.
Knox stepped out and held the door open.
Aria remained frozen. “What do you mean you knew him?”
His jaw flexed. “Go inside, Aria.”
“No.” She met his eyes. “Not until you tell me the truth.”
A pause. Then, finally—
“Your father worked with Wilder Industries. Years ago. He wasn’t just an engineer. He was involved in classified projects. Dangerous ones.”
Aria blinked. “That’s not possible. My dad was a simple man. Honest. He raised us alone.”
“I know,” Knox said, softer now. “But something went wrong. People died. Your father disappeared from the records. His file was wiped clean.”
She staggered back a step, the marble floor suddenly feeling unsteady.
“You’re lying,” she whispered.
“I wish I was.”
He didn’t look cruel anymore. He looked tired. Like a man burdened by more than just business.
Aria stepped inside the house, her heels clicking like thunder. Her chest ached with a strange mixture of grief and betrayal. She thought she’d buried her father years ago—quietly, painfully.
But now?
Now it felt like she never really knew him at all.
She stood by the window in her suite, still dressed in the emerald gown, the hem wrinkled from where she’d curled onto the couch earlier. Her fingers brushed the edge of her phone. She didn’t know what she wanted to do more—scream or call Ezra Lang.
A soft knock pulled her from her spiral.
Dahlia entered without waiting. “There’s something you should see.”
Aria followed her into a small room she hadn’t noticed before. It was lined with books, computers, and files—Knox’s private study.
Dahlia handed her a single envelope. No words. Just a look.
Aria opened it slowly.
Inside was a photo—grainy, old—but unmistakable.
Her father, standing beside a younger Knox Wilder. Both smiling. Both wearing matching ID tags with Wilder Industries printed across them.
Her hands trembled.
The second item inside was a memo, half-burned at the edges:
> Project “Vanguard”: Personnel Involved — C. Monroe, K. Wilder, E. Lang. Status: Terminated.
Her knees weakened.
“Where did you get this?” she asked Dahlia.
Dahlia’s expression remained neutral. “He locked it away. But you’re his wife now. You deserve to know what you’re walking into.”
“Why would he hide this from me?”
“Because whatever happened back then… people still want it buried.”
Aria’s throat went dry. “You’re saying I’m in danger?”
“I’m saying you were never part of the plan, Aria,” Dahlia said quietly. “But now that you are… you can’t walk away.”
She left the room, leaving Aria with secrets that didn’t belong to her—but would destroy her all the same.
Later that night, Aria stormed into Knox’s room.
He was unbuttoning his shirt when she barged in. The moonlight bathed the room in soft silver, casting shadows across his chiseled chest.
He looked up, unfazed. “Couldn’t sleep?”
She threw the photo at him. “How long were you going to lie to me?”
He caught it midair, glanced at it, then sighed. “I didn’t lie. I just didn’t tell you everything.”
“That’s the same thing!”
“No. It’s not,” he said calmly, tossing the photo onto the desk. “If I lied, you’d still be in the dark.”
“And now I’m what?” she asked, voice shaking. “A pawn in your guilt? A shield for your enemies?”
“You’re leverage,” he said simply. “To keep certain people from asking too many questions. If they think I care about you—publicly—they’ll hesitate.”
She recoiled like he’d slapped her.
“So that’s what I am to you?” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “Leverage.”
Knox stepped closer. “You’re alive. That’s more than I can say for the others.”
She stared up at him, fury blurring her vision. “I should hate you.”
“Then do,” he said, voice low. “But stay. Because walking away now won’t just hurt you—it’ll bring everything down on your head.”
Aria’s breath hitched.
“Then tell me the rest,” she whispered. “Everything.”
Knox didn’t blink. “Not yet.”
She stepped back, fists clenched. “I swear, if you keep treating me like I’m too fragile to handle the truth—”
“I’m protecting you, Aria,” he interrupted, tone sharp now. “And not because of the contract. Because your father asked me to.”
Silence.
Aria’s heart stopped. “What?”
Knox’s voice dropped. “The night he disappeared, he sent me one message. Just one: ‘Keep her safe. Whatever it takes.’”
Her breath left her body like a punch to the chest.
Everything spun.
He took a step forward. “I don’t care if you hate me. I’ll be your villain if I have to. But I promised him I’d protect you. And I don’t break promises.”
Tears stung her eyes. “Why didn’t you just tell me that?”
“Because telling you would’ve made you run. And I can’t protect you if you’re running blind.”
Aria stared at him, chest rising and falling, every emotion colliding inside her.
She wanted to scream. To cry. To collapse into him.
Instead, she turned away. “Then protect me, Knox. But don’t expect me to forgive you for making me feel like a fool.”
She walked out, slamming the door behind her.
And for the first time, Knox Wilder felt the weight of his own walls cracking.
- Writer
