ASHES OF HER SILENCE

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I found out I was getting married the same day I found out my father was broke.

Two life-changing pieces of news in one breath, and he delivered both like he was talking about the weather.

"Sit down, Aria," he said, not looking up from his desk.

I stayed standing. Something in his voice told me I wouldn't want to sit for this.

"The company owes the Coles eleven million dollars," he said. "We default in three weeks if I don't fix this."

My stomach dropped, but I kept my face still. I had learned that from him. Never let anyone see you shake, especially not your own father.

"So fix it," I said.

"I did." He finally looked at me. "You're marrying Damian Cole."

For a second I thought I heard him wrong. Then I laughed, because the alternative was screaming.

"You're joking."

"I'm not."

"Dad. Damian Cole. The same Damian Cole who—"

"I know what he did to you," he cut in, quiet. "I know exactly what he did. But his father is willing to erase the debt if this marriage happens. That's the deal."

I stood there trying to breathe normally while my whole life rearranged itself in front of me.

Three years ago, Damian Cole stood in front of two hundred people at his own sister's engagement party and called me a gold digger to my face. He didn't even lower his voice. Everyone heard it. Everyone laughed. I walked out of that party and swore I would never let another Cole near me again.

And now my father wanted me to marry one.

"There has to be another way," I said.

"There isn't." His voice cracked on the last word, just slightly, and that was what got me. Not the debt. Not the threat of losing everything. It was hearing my father, a man who never showed weakness in front of me, sound like he was breaking.

"Does Damian know?" I asked. "Does he know it's me?"

"He knows."

"And he agreed to this?"

My father didn't answer right away, which was answer enough.

"His father is the one who wants it," he finally said. "Damian doesn't get a say. Neither do you."

I wanted to argue. I wanted to tell him there had to be some other solution, some other way to save the company that didn't involve handing myself over to a man who despised me. But I looked at him, really looked at him, and saw how tired he was. How old he suddenly looked. Everything he had built, everything our family had, hanging by a thread that only I could hold together.

"Fine," I said. "I'll do it."

He exhaled like he'd been holding his breath for hours. "Thank you, Aria."

I didn't say you're welcome. There was nothing to be welcome for.

The wedding happened eleven days later. Not a real wedding, not the kind girls dream about. A courthouse, a lawyer, and two families who hated each other pretending otherwise for the sake of paperwork.

Damian didn't look at me once during the ceremony. Not when I walked in, not when we signed the papers, not even when the officiant told him he could kiss the bride and he just shook my hand instead like we'd closed a business deal, which I suppose we had.

Up close he looked exactly like I remembered. Same sharp jaw, same cold eyes, same expression like the whole world was beneath him. Three years hadn't softened any of it.

"You can stop pretending you're happy about this," I said once the officiant walked away. "I already know you're not."

"I wasn't aware I was pretending anything," he said.

"Good. Then we understand each other."

That was the extent of our wedding conversation. Twenty seconds, maybe less, and it told me everything I needed to know about the next however many years of my life.

His driver took us to his house afterward, because apparently I lived there now. Correction — his house. Not ours. I made sure to remember that distinction, because I had a feeling he would remind me of it often.

The house was enormous, all glass and stone and the kind of silence that money buys. A woman met us at the door, maybe fifty, kind eyes, the only warm thing in the entire building.

"This is Marta," Damian said. "She runs the house. If you need anything, ask her, not me."

"Understood."

"Your room is the second door on the left upstairs. Mine is at the end of the hall. We won't be running into each other much."

"Good," I said again, because apparently that was my only word today.

He walked off without another glance, and Marta showed me upstairs, chatting gently about towels and breakfast times like this was a normal first day in a normal house with a normal husband. I nodded along and said thank you and shut my door the second she left, and only then did I let my hands shake.

I sat on the edge of the bed in a house that wasn't mine, married to a man who hated me, all so my father could keep his company for one more year. I told myself it was temporary. I told myself I could survive anything if I just kept my head down and stayed out of Damian's way.

I actually believed that for about six hours.

It was almost midnight when I heard voices downstairs. Damian's voice, low and tight, and another man's voice I didn't recognize, sharp and angry in a way that made the walls feel thinner than they were.

I told myself it wasn't my business. I told myself to stay in my room like a good, obedient wife who knew her place.

I didn't listen to myself.

I crept to the top of the stairs, staying in the shadows the way I used to when I was a kid trying to catch my parents arguing about money. The two men were standing near Damian's study, and even from this distance I could see how rigid Damian's shoulders were, how his jaw was clenched tight enough to crack.

"You can't keep hiding this from her," the stranger said. "She's your wife now. That means something."

"It means nothing," Damian said. "It's a contract. Nothing more."

"It won't stay that way once she finds out the real reason your father wanted this marriage."

My whole body went still.

"That's not happening," Damian said, voice dropping even lower. "She can never find out why I actually agreed to marry her."

The other man said something I couldn't hear, and Damian's response was too quiet to catch, but I saw his eyes lift, just for a second, straight toward the staircase.

Straight toward me.

I didn't move fast enough.

His eyes locked onto mine in the dark, and in that one look I understood something that terrified me more than the marriage itself.

This was never about the debt.

There was another reason Damian Cole married me, and from the way he was staring at me right now, I had a horrible feeling I had just made a very big mistake by finding that out.