THE CEO’S HIDDEN SECRET

ARIA’S POV The last bottle of apple juice disappears from the flight attendant’s trolley just as I reach for it. A man’s hand gets there first. I stare at the bottle, then at the stranger beside me, who has already settled back into his seat as though stealing the last drink from a woman with a sore throat is perfectly acceptable behaviour. “Excuse me. That was mine.” He turns his head. “Yours?” “The drink you just took.” “I don’t see your name on it.” For a moment, I simply look at him. Three years away from Alaska, and somehow, I have already encountered the most irritating man on the planet. “I was reaching for it,” I explain, keeping my voice as calm as possible. “You saw me.” “And I picked it up first.” He twists the cap open. I glance at the bottle, then at his face. He has the sort of expression that suggests he has never been told no in his life, and if he has, he has probably considered it a personal insult. “Unbelievable,” I mutter. “It’s a drink, not a family heirloom.” I turn towards him so quickly that my seat belt digs into my waist. “You know what? Keep it. I hope you enjoy every single drop.” “Thank you.” The audacity. I flag down the flight attendant and ask whether there is another bottle. Unfortunately, there isn’t. She apologises and continues down the aisle, leaving me with a dry throat, an increasingly painful cough, and a burning desire to throw my shoe at the man sitting beside me. Instead, I turn towards the window. I have more important things to worry about than a bottle of apple juice. I am returning to Alaska for the first time in three years. I have a new job waiting for me, a mystery I have spent months trying to unravel, and a past I would give almost anything to leave behind. Yet here I am, wasting precious energy on a stranger who apparently considers basic courtesy an optional extra. I close my eyes and silently ask God for patience. I will need plenty of it. Because I have a feeling this trip is only the beginning of my problems. My name is Aria West. At least, that is the name I use now. Before the fire, I was Sonia Aria West, the only daughter of Daniel and Evelyn West, and I had every reason to believe I knew exactly what my future would look like. My father founded West Tech, a technology company that was developing one of the most advanced security systems in the industry. Its most ambitious project, Project Silver, was designed to identify vulnerabilities, protect confidential information, and uncover suspicious financial activity before it could cause catastrophic damage. I grew up around computers, encrypted files, and conversations most children would have found painfully boring. While other girls my age dreamed about their futures, I spent hours beside my father, learning to write code and test security systems. Eventually, I became part of the project itself. My father trusted me with responsibilities he shared with almost no one else. He believed in my intelligence, my instincts, and my ability to recognise danger hidden beneath an ordinary surface. He was also careful. Project Silver was too valuable to fall into the wrong hands. So he developed a security mechanism linked to my biometric identity, placing a device inside a pendant he gave me. Without the correct verification, the project’s most protected functions would remain inaccessible. At the time, I thought it was simply another one of his precautions. I had no idea how much my life would depend on it. Or how many people might be willing to kill for what it protected. Everything changed on the night our research facility burned. I remember the smoke filling the corridors. The alarms screaming overhead. My mother’s voice cutting through the chaos as she called my name. I remember running. I remember Laura Sterling, my childhood best friend, grabbing my hand and pulling me towards an exit while flames swallowed the place where my father had spent years building his dream. And I remember looking back. My parents were still inside. I never saw them again. By morning, the fire had destroyed more than a building. My parents were gone, West Tech was in ruins, and the future I had imagined for myself had disappeared with them. The official explanations never answered the questions that mattered. Why had the fire spread so quickly? What had happened inside the facility before the alarms went off? And why did certain details surrounding Project Silver seem to disappear whenever I tried to investigate them? I was grieving, frightened, and suddenly aware that whatever had happened that night might not have been an accident. If someone had deliberately targeted my family, I could not assume they would stop simply because my parents were dead. So Laura and I left Alaska. We built a life elsewhere, keeping our heads down and our past buried. I eventually settled in New York, underwent reconstructive surgery to repair the prominent facial scar left by the fire, and began introducing myself as Aria rather than Sonia. I kept my surname, West, but learned to be careful about what I revealed. I did not talk about my parents. I did not talk about the fire. And I certainly did not talk about Project Silver. For three years, I concentrated on surviving. I found work, rebuilt my confidence, and tried to convince myself that time would eventually make the unanswered questions less painful. It didn’t. Then, two months ago, an anonymous message appeared on my phone. IF YOU WANT TO KNOW THE TRUTH ABOUT YOUR PARENTS, INVESTIGATE TIERNEY DYNAMICS. Nothing else. No explanation. No name. No evidence to support the claim. Just six words that dragged me straight back into the nightmare I had spent three years trying to escape. Tierney Dynamics was no stranger to West Tech. The company had been connected to my father’s business dealings, although I had never been able to establish the full extent of their relationship. I had no idea who sent the message or whether I could trust it. It could be a trap. It could be a cruel attempt to exploit my grief. But it could also be the first real lead I had received since the night my parents died. And I could no longer afford to ignore the possibility. I applied for a position at Tierney Dynamics while I was still in New York, submitting my qualifications under the name Aria West. My application focused on my technical skills and experience, revealing nothing about my family or my connection to West Tech. When the company offered me a position as a junior systems analyst, I accepted. Now, I am returning to Alaska with a plan. Get inside Tierney Dynamics. Find out what the company knows about my parents. And discover why someone believes the truth is hidden there. I don’t know who sent the message, what they expect me to find, or whether the people responsible for destroying my family are still around. But I know one thing. I am done running.