Aiden's POV
By the time I decided to stop watching from a distance and start knowing, it wasn't a question of whether I would find her past, only how long it would take, and I wasn't a patient man when something belonged to me, not like this, not when every hour that passed without understanding her completely felt like a gap I hadn't allowed before; I stood in my office with the city stretched beneath me in glass and light, the silence thick with the kind of control most men only imagined they had, and I didn't need to turn to know when Lucas stepped in behind me, his presence quiet, precise, exactly where it was supposed to be, because he understood me without needing things explained twice, which was why he was still alive and still standing where he was; I let a few seconds pass before speaking, my gaze still fixed on the streets below, tracing patterns that had nothing to do with business anymore and everything to do with her, because even here, even surrounded by everything I had built, she had found her way into my thoughts like something permanent; "There's a girl," I said finally, my voice low, controlled, the kind that didn't invite questions but always received them anyway when it came from me, and I heard the slight shift behind me as Lucas adjusted his stance, not surprised, just attentive, waiting for the part that mattered; "I want everything," I continued, turning slightly now, enough for my eyes to meet his, enough for him to understand that this wasn't a casual request, not something that could be handled halfway or delayed, "where she came from, who she was before now, who she's been around, what she's hiding… all of it," and I watched the way he processed it, quick, efficient, already building the path in his head before I even finished speaking; "Name?" he asked, simple, direct, exactly what I expected; "Willow," I answered, letting it sit for a second before adding, "that's what she uses now," because I already knew enough to understand that it wasn't the whole truth, not with her, not with the way she moved, the way she hid, the way nothing about her felt accidental; Lucas nodded once, already turning slightly as if to leave, but something in my expression must have stopped him, because I wasn't done, not even close; "She's changed it," I said, my voice quieter now, more deliberate, each word placed exactly where I wanted it, "more than once," and that was where it became interesting, where it stopped being simple and started becoming something worth my attention, because people didn't erase themselves like that unless they had something to run from, something worth burying deep enough that even time couldn't reach it easily; Lucas frowned slightly, not confused, just calculating, already understanding what that meant in terms of access, in terms of time, in terms of how deep he would have to dig to find anything real; "How many times?" he asked; I exhaled slowly, my jaw tightening just slightly as I considered it, because even the fragments I had weren't clean, weren't easy to follow, and that alone told me she had done this carefully, intentionally; "Enough that it won't be clean," I replied, my gaze drifting past him for a second, already seeing the paths closing, the dead ends waiting, the records that wouldn't match, "different records, different cities… maybe even different countries," and I let that sink in, because this wasn't just someone starting over, this was someone erasing themselves piece by piece until nothing original remained on the surface; Lucas's expression shifted slightly, more focused now, more serious, because this was no longer a simple background check, this was reconstruction, this was digging through layers someone had worked hard to build; "It'll take time," he said carefully, not as an excuse, just as fact; I stepped closer then, slow, deliberate, until the space between us felt heavier, until my presence made the words mean something more than just information, and his eyes lifted to meet mine fully, understanding settling in before I even spoke again; "No," I said quietly, and there was nothing harsh in my tone, nothing raised, but it carried weight anyway, the kind that didn't need to be explained, "it'll take whatever it takes," and I held his gaze for a second longer, letting him feel exactly how far I expected this to go, "I don't care how many names she's buried… I want them all," because that was the truth of it, the part that mattered, not the difficulty, not the time, not the effort, just the result, because she could change her name a hundred times, she could disappear into a thousand different lives, but she couldn't disappear from me, not anymore; Lucas nodded again, slower this time, understanding the weight behind it, understanding that this wasn't optional, that failure wasn't something that existed in this context, and without another word, he turned and left, already moving, already beginning the process of pulling her apart piece by piece until there was nothing left hidden; I stayed where I was, my gaze drifting back to the city, but I wasn't seeing it anymore, not really, because my mind had already shifted back to her, to the way she moved, the way she looked, the way she felt me without understanding it yet, and a slow, almost imperceptible smile touched my lips as something dark and certain settled into place; "You can run as much as you want," I murmured softly, more to the thought of her than anything else, my voice barely more than a breath against the silence, "change your name, change your life… it doesn't matter," because it didn't, none of it did, not when I had already decided, not when I had already seen her, not when she had already become something that belonged to me in a way that couldn't be undone; "I'll find every version of you," I added quietly, my eyes darkening slightly as the words settled, "and I'll take all of them."