(One Push Too Far)
Peace never lasts.
Aria Larkspur should've known that.
---
Since the annual gala, Vale Cooperation had basically turned into a detective agency with zero success rate.
Forums exploded.
Rumors multiplied.
Logic? Missing.
---
She sat cross-legged on the couch, scrolling through Ethan's company forum like it was her personal comedy show.
And honestly?
Best entertainment ever.
She nearly choked on her drink.
"WHAT is this—" she wheezed, shoving the phone toward Ethan. "Someone just said I'm a mythical house spirit who disappears after helping rich CEOs."
Ethan glanced over, utterly calm.
"…Creative."
"Creative?" she repeated, scandalized. "They basically turned me into a cleaning fairy with commitment issues."
He smirked—actually smirked—and patted her back lightly.
"You're laughing too hard."
"I'm concerned about their mental stability," she shot back. "Do they need therapy? Should Vale Cooperation sponsor it?"
She kept scrolling, then froze.
"Oh my god, this one's even better." Her eyes sparkled. "Listen—'She was probably hidden by some possessive executive. Warning: do not investigate unless you want to disappear.'"
She slowly turned her head.
Then kicked him lightly.
"I'm calling you out, mysterious executive."
Ethan caught her ankle mid-air.
Effortless.
Dangerous.
"…Where are your socks?" he said flatly.
Aria blinked. "…That's your takeaway?"
"Yes."
"You're unbelievable."
"And you're barefoot on a cold floor."
"Wow," she deadpanned. "Romance is alive."
Still, he pulled her foot closer and slid the sock on properly.
Annoyingly gentle.
---
Then—
Disaster.
Her finger slipped.
Tap.
The screen froze.
Her soul left her body.
"…No."
Ethan looked up. "What?"
"I just liked the post."
Silence.
"…Undo it."
"I DID."
"That doesn't erase screenshots."
"…We're doomed."
He took the phone, glanced once, then handed it back like it was nothing.
"It's fine."
"That's not reassuring."
"It's not wrong anyway."
She stared at him.
"You're admitting it??"
"I didn't deny it."
Savage.
---
Life returned to normal after that.
Or at least—
Their version of normal.
He worked.
She existed dramatically.
He hovered.
She pretended not to notice.
Trust level?
Still crawling like it had personal grudges.
---
One afternoon—
Aria tapped her spoon against her bowl, watching Ethan across the table.
"Do you trust me?" she asked suddenly.
He didn't even hesitate.
"Yes."
Of course he didn't.
Useless question, she thought.
She sighed, leaning back.
"I'm bored," she declared. "I should get a job."
The spoon in Ethan's hand stopped.
"No."
She blinked. "Excuse me?"
"No."
"Wow," she said slowly. "Didn't realize I applied for permission."
His gaze sharpened.
"You don't need to."
"And if I want to?"
"You won't."
"…That's not how free will works."
"That's how safety works."
There it was.
The real issue.
Not trust.
Control.
Fear.
He's not scared of me leaving, she realized. He's scared of what happens if I remember everything.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
---
Before she could push further—
A voice shattered the calm.
Loud.
Sharp.
Uninvited.
"Where is he?!"
Aria frowned.
Oh no.
The universe had sent entertainment.
---
Enter: Claudia Vale.
(Ethan's aunt. Problem generator. Walking headache.)
Designer logos screamed across her outfit like they were begging for attention.
Subtlety? Dead.
Class? Missing.
Volume? Maximum.
---
Aria stepped forward slightly. "Careful, you'll step on the flowers."
Claudia stumbled—
Then glared.
"And who are YOU?"
Aria smiled politely. "Someone with better balance."
"…Excuse me?"
"I said—watch your step."
Claudia's eyes narrowed, scanning her from head to toe.
Judgment. Disdain. Calculation.
"Oh," she sneered. "So you're the little pet he keeps here."
Pause.
Aria blinked.
Pet?
She almost laughed.
Instead—
"No," she said softly. "I bite."
Claudia ignored that.
"Let me be clear," she continued, voice dripping arrogance. "The woman Ethan marries will be from a proper family. Not… this."
She gestured vaguely.
Aria tilted her head.
"Interesting," she said calmly. "And here I thought he'd marry someone with basic manners."
Direct hit.
---
Claudia scoffed, shoving past her—
Straight through the garden.
Crushing flowers under her heels.
Aria's expression cooled.
…Okay. That's personal.
---
She followed.
Slowly.
Thoughtfully.
Because suddenly—
An idea formed.
Perfect timing.
Perfect opportunity.
---
Inside the study—
Voices rose.
Tension built.
Aria stood just outside.
Listening.
Calculating.
---
You want trust, Ethan Vale?
Let's see how you handle losing it.
---
Minutes later—
Everything changed.
---
A shout.
A crash.
Silence.
---
From the upstairs window—
Ethan looked down.
And the world stopped.
---
Aria Larkspur lay motionless on the gravel path.
Blood against stone.
Too still.
Too quiet.
---
"ARIA—!"
He didn't remember moving.
Didn't remember thinking.
Only running.
---
Ethan's POV
No.
No no no—
This isn't happening.
Not her.
Not like this.
---
He dropped beside her, hands shaking as he lifted her.
"…Aria."
No response.
Her skin—cold.
Her head—
Blood.
Too much.
Way too much.
---
"Call an ambulance," he snapped—but his voice broke halfway through.
His fingers wouldn't steady.
His chest wouldn't breathe.
His mind—
Blank.
---
Behind him—
Claudia stammered, "I barely pushed—she—this isn't—"
Ethan turned.
And for the first time—
She stepped back.
Afraid.
Good.
"You expect me to believe," he said quietly, "that she did this herself?"
"I didn't—"
"If anything happens to her," he cut in, voice deadly calm, "you won't have a place in this world to hide."
Silence.
---
Sirens.
Movement.
Chaos.
---
He held her the entire time.
Wouldn't let go.
Couldn't.
---
"Sir, we need—"
"No."
"Please—"
"No."
---
Her blood stained his hands.
Wouldn't come off.
Wouldn't stop.
---
"…Aria," he whispered, voice cracking. "Stay with me."
Nothing.
---
For the first time—
Ethan Vale looked afraid.
Not controlled concern.
Not calculated worry.
Real fear.
Raw.
Unfiltered.
---
And the worst part?
She didn't answer.
---
Aria's POV (fading consciousness)
Dark.
Heavy.
Distant.
---
…Did it work?
---
System voice flickered—
[Trust Level: 89%]
---
Finally.
---
Her lips almost curved.
Almost.
---
Now let's see…
…how far you'll break.