CHAPTER 3 - The past: Aria’s POV
1760 Words
CHAPTER 3
The past
Aria’s POV
Sebastian’s fingers stayed wrapped around the locket for a long moment, and his eyes did not leave it, as if the small piece of silver carried something heavy that he could not put down. His jaw tightened slightly, and I could tell he was holding something back, something he did not want to show.
Matteo looked between us, his brows pulling together in quiet confusion. “Boss?”
Sebastian stood up slowly, still holding the locket.
“Leave it,” he said.
Matteo studied him for a second, then gave a small nod before turning and walking out of the room. The door closed behind him with a soft but clear sound, leaving only the two of us in the quiet space.
Sebastian did not look at me.
He kept the locket in his hand, his fingers tightening around it slightly before loosening again, like he was lost somewhere far away.
“Why did you keep it?” I asked gently.
He lifted his head then, and whatever I saw on his face disappeared quickly, replaced by the same calm expression he always wore.
“Because I don’t throw things away,” he said.
His voice was steady, but there was something underneath it that I could not fully understand.
“Even if it hurts to keep them?” I asked.
He didn’t answer.
Instead, he slipped the locket into his pocket and turned toward the door as if the conversation was already over.
Before he could leave, I spoke again.
“Sebastian, what really happened to you eight years ago?”
He stopped immediately.
His back was still facing me, but I could feel the change in him, like the question had reached somewhere deep.
“Don’t ask questions you don’t want answered,” he said quietly.
I frowned slightly, taking a step forward.
“I do want answers.”
He turned his head just enough for me to see his eyes, and they were cold again.
“You wouldn’t want the truth,” he said.
Then he walked out, leaving me standing there with more questions than before.
******************
Later that evening, a maid knocked softly on my door before stepping inside.
She was older, her movements careful, her eyes lowered as she approached me. In her hand was a small golden key, and she held it out with both hands like it was something important.
“Mr. Vieri asked me to give you this,” she said quietly.
I took the key from her, turning it slowly between my fingers.
“What is it for?” I asked.
“Your room, Miss,” she replied.
I looked at her, confused. “My room?”
She nodded once. “He said you are not to leave the estate.”
My chest tightened.
“Not even outside?” I asked.
She shook her head gently. “No, Miss. Not until he allows it.”
There was something in her tone that told me not to argue, so I didn’t.
After she left, I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the key in my hand.
It felt strange.
I could lock the door. But I could not leave.
It wasn’t freedom, It was just another kind of cage.
That night, the house grew quiet in a way that made everything feel heavier.
The sound of the ocean carried through the walls, steady and endless, but beneath it, I thought I heard something else.
At first, I ignored it.But then I heard it again.
A voice, low and unclear.
Then:
“Aria.”
My heart skipped.
I stood up slowly, listening carefully.
The voice came again, louder this time, strained and broken.
“Aria.”
I knew that voice.
Without thinking, I stepped out of my room and walked down the hallway, my feet moving quietly against the floor.
The sound led me to his door.
It was slightly open.
I hesitated for a moment, then pushed it gently.
Inside, Sebastian sat on the edge of his bed, his breathing uneven, his hands pressed against his knees like he was trying to steady himself.
He looked up the moment the door opened.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“I heard you,” I said softly. “You were calling my name.”
He ran a hand through his hair, his expression tense.
“Go back to bed,” he said.
“You were having a nightmare,” I said, stepping inside slowly.
He looked at me, and for a brief moment, I saw something in his eyes that I had not seen since I arrived.
Tiredness. Something close to pain.
“Everyone has nightmares,” he said.
“Not like that,” I replied quietly. “You looked scared.”
A faint, bitter sound left his lips, almost like a laugh.
“I stopped being scared a long time ago,” he said.
I moved a little closer, unable to stop myself.
“What happened after you ‘died,’ Sebastian?” I asked.
He looked away immediately.
“That story isn’t for you,” he said.
“You owe me the truth,” I said, my voice softer now but steady.
He stood up then, and the moment passed.
The cold returned.
“No,” he said firmly. “I don’t owe you anything.”
The words stung, but I didn’t show it.
He walked past me toward the door, then paused slightly.
“Lock your door tonight,” he said without turning back. “This house is not as safe as you think.”
Then he left.
Sleep did not come easily after that.
I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to the sound of the waves and the echo of his voice in my mind.
Something was wrong. Everything felt wrong.
After a long time, I got up again and walked toward the balcony, pulling the curtain aside slightly.
The night was still dark, and the sea stretched endlessly below.
But what caught my attention was the light.
His room was still lit.
I hesitated for a moment, then stepped out into the hallway again, my curiosity pulling me forward.
When I reached his door, I stopped.
His voice came from inside. He was on the phone.
“No, she doesn’t remember,” he said.
My breath caught.
I stayed still, listening.
There was a pause, then his voice came again, softer this time.
“If she remembers what happened in Palermo, I will have to deal with him before she speaks.”
My heart stopped.
Deal with him?
What did that mean?
And Palermo.
Why did that name feel familiar?
I shifted slightly, and the floor creaked under my foot.
Inside the room, everything went quiet.
Then his voice came again, sharper this time.
“Who’s there?”
I froze.
My heart pounded so loudly I was sure he could hear it.
I didn’t wait.
I turned and walked back to my room as quietly as I could, closing the door behind me before leaning against it, trying to steady my breathing.
His words kept repeating in my head.
If she remembers.
Remembers what?
And why did it feel like I already knew something I couldn’t fully see?
**************
Morning came too quickly.
When I walked into the dining room, Sebastian was already there, seated at the table like nothing had happened the night before.
He was calm, composed, going through papers while sipping his coffee.
“Good morning,” I said quietly.
He glanced at me once, then returned his attention to the documents.
“You didn’t sleep,” he said.
“I couldn’t,” I replied.
He didn’t ask why.
After he left for a meeting, the house felt quieter than before.
Something pulled me toward his private study room.
The door was slightly open. I hesitated, then stepped inside.
The room carried his scent, faint but familiar.
Papers were spread across the desk, books stacked neatly, and a gun lay partially hidden beneath a folder.
I moved closer, my eyes scanning everything carefully, searching for something that made sense.
Then I saw it.
A old photograph. Burned at the edges.
My fingers trembled as I picked it up.
It was us smilling when we were younger. I was wearing my school uniform, and he stood beside me in a simple hoodie, his arm loosely around my shoulders.
I remembered that day. We were by the sea. The last day before everything changed.
My chest tightened as I set the photo down, but something else caught my attention.
A newspaper clipping lay beside it.
“Fire Destroys DeLorenzo Corporation Headquarters. Two Dead.”
My father’s company.
The night everything was taken from me.
My throat closed as I lifted it, my hands shaking.
Why would he keep this? Why keep something like that?
A thought hit me suddenly, so strong it made me step back.
The fire. His death. The timing.
What if it wasn’t an accident? What if none of it was?
My eyes burned as I shook my head.
“No,” I whispered. “He wouldn’t.”
The sound of footsteps behind me made my entire body freeze. It was slow and steady
I turned slowly.
Sebastian stood at the door.
His tie was slightly loose, and his expression was calm, but there was something heavy in his eyes.
He looked at the photo in my hand. Then at me.
“I told you not to come in here,” he said.
I couldn’t speak.
He walked toward me and gently took the photo from my hand, glancing at it for a moment before letting out a quiet breath.
“Now you see it,” he said.
My heart pounded.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
He looked at me fully now, his eyes dark.
“Your family’s fire was not just an accident,” he said slowly. “It was a message.”
A chill ran through me.
“A message from who?” I asked.
He stepped closer, his voice lowering.
“From people who wanted power.”
My fingers tightened
at my sides.
“And you?” I whispered. “Where were you in all of that?”
For a moment, he didn’t answer.
Then his gaze held mine, steady and unshaken.
“Closer than you think,” he said.
And something inside me broke. Because deep down, I was starting to realize the truth might be worse than I ever imagined.
- Writer
