After Rebirth, I Became My Ex's Aunt-in-Law

Damien said nothing. The silence in the hallway was heavier than the humid air outside.

He quietly lowered Diana onto the floor, her head lolling against his arm. Aria stooped beside her, holding her up so she wouldn’t topple over, but her eyes were fixed on Damien.

He was reaching into his pocket for his phone. His hand was steady, but his jaw was clenched tight enough to snap steel.

”Who are you calling?” Aria whispered.

”Security,” Damien replied, his voice a low, rough grate. ”I left my gun in the room. I’m not walking in there unarmed.”

He dialed. ”Code Black. East Wing. Guest Corridor. Intruder potential. Bring the sweep team.”

Three minutes later, the hallway was swarming with men in tactical gear. They moved with silent, terrifying efficiency, clearing Diana’s room and then Damien’s.

Aria stood against the wall, watching them. She felt strangely calm.

”Clear,” the head of security reported, holstering his weapon. ”No sign of entry. Windows are locked. But we found this.”

He handed Damien a piece of paper.

It was the note Aria had left on Diana’s mirror earlier. Borrowed the blue...

But someone had flipped it over.

On the back, written in elegant, flowing script with a black ballpoint pen, was a message in French.

Rendez-vous au Jardin Secret.

Aria frowned, leaning in to look. ”I don’t speak French. What does it say?”

Damien stared at the paper. His blood ran cold.

Le Jardin Secret.

It was the name of the flower shop in the background of the Polaroid on the burner phone. The photo of her mother.

”It says,” Damien said slowly, ”Meet at the Secret Garden.”

He looked at Aria. She was watching him, her emerald eyes sharp and assessing. She saw the recognition in his face.

”You know what that means,” she stated. It wasn’t a question.

Damien folded the note and tucked it into his pocket. He looked at the security team. ”Leave us. Post a guard at the end of the hall.”

As the men retreated, Damien picked up Diana again, carrying her into her bedroom. He laid her on the bed, pulled the quilt over her, and brushed a stray hair from her face.

Then he turned to Aria.

”Sit down,” he said, gesturing to the chaise lounge near the window.

Aria sat. She folded her hands in her lap, waiting.

Damien sat on the edge of the chaise, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. He looked tired.

”I’ve been lying to you,” he said.

Aria stared at him with a blank expression.

”I got the burner phone back from Kai a few days ago,” Damien confessed, his voice low. ”There was a text message. A threat. It mentioned a file called ’Orpheus’ and warned that opening it would bring down the roof.”

He looked at his hands.

”I opened it. It was a photo. A scan of an old Polaroid from 2003. It showed your mother in Paris.”

Aria went still. ”My mother?”

”She was with a man,” Damien said.

He looked up, meeting her gaze.

”And in the background of that photo was a flower shop. Le Jardin Secret.”

The room was silent.

”I also read the journals,” Damien continued, the words tumbling out now. ”They told me nothing. No hints about the man in the photo. Ken tried a face search, but his face isn’t clear enough and the angle is bad.”

He took a breath.

”I kept it from you because I thought... I thought I could handle it. To protect you from the skeletons your mother left in her closet. I wanted to be the wall between you and them.”

He stopped. He waited for the anger. He waited for her to scream, to slap him, to tell him he was selfish and controlling.

Aria looked at him. She processed the information—the text, the photo, the journals.

She thought about the man in the hoodie. The mark on Diana’s wrist.

”So,” Aria said thoughtfully. ”I guess my mother had a darker past than I thought.”

Damien blinked. ”What?”

”All of this started because I wanted to prove that Lydia murdered my mom,” Aria said, her mind working fast, ”and I still think she did... but maybe this isn’t just a murder mystery, Damien. It’s a crime story. It’s not only Lydia. My mother...she was connected. She was part of their world.”

She furrowed her brows, a pensive frown on her lips.

”Which means this goes far deeper than a mistress killing a wife for a life and man she wanted.”

Damien stared at her. He hadn’t expected her to take his confession...like this.

”You’re not angry?” he asked.

”Oh, I’m annoyed,” Aria assured. ”I hate being the last to know. I hate being lied to. But...”

She reached out, taking his hand.

”I know why you did it. You have a hero complex, that I’m sure you won’t admit to. It’s annoying, but it’s also kind of sweet.”

She squeezed his fingers.

”But listen to me closely, Damien. I know the risks. I know there are people who probably will want to kill me for what I know. And it is my decision to face them. This drama is mine. My mother. My blood. My war.”

She leaned forward, her eyes burning with emerald fire.

”I don’t need a bodyguard. I have security for that. I need a partner. I need someone who tells me when the wolves are at the door so I can load the gun.”

”A partner,” Damien repeated, the tension in his chest loosening.

”Yes. It will be over much faster if we work together. Secrets slow us down.”

She stood up, pulling him with her.

”I am strong, Damien. I can handle danger. I can handle the Vipers. And I can handle the truth.”

She patted his cheek, her expression softening into something playful but sharp.

”So, consider this your one warning. Never lie to me again. Never hide intel from me again.”

She kissed him lightly on the lips.

”I’m only forgiving you this time because you’ve been a very good husband so far. Don’t ruin your streak. You’re on probation.”

Damien smiled as he looked down at her.

”Understood,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around her waist. ”Thank you for your mercy, Mrs. Sinclair.”