In that moment, Aria felt like Silas was a walking menace. No, she told herself. She wasn’t about to let him cast a shadow over her whole life. Pulling up courage she didn’t know she had, she clenched her fists and met his stare dead-on. “Silas, can we talk?”

“I’ll be right outside. Call me if you need anything.” Seth shot Aria a worried look, then slipped out of the room.

The room went cold as Silas stared straight ahead, his voice like ice. “You’ve got five minutes.”

Aria drew a breath, lifted her chin, and let her determination show plain on her face. “You don’t like me, and I don’t have feelings for you. This marriage was a mistake. Can we—”

Before she could finish, a servant hurried in holding out a phone. “Sir, it’s for Miss Aria.”

Aria glanced at Silas. His face gave her nothing. She took the phone and stepped aside. “Hello?”

Her aunt’s voice rushed through the line. “Aria, don’t blame me. I was worried. I had to take precautions. But rest assured—as long as you stay with the Collins family, I’ll make sure your mother is taken care of. If not…”

“What are you planning?” Aria’s voice dropped low. She gripped the phone so hard her knuckles went white.

“If anything happens to your mother, I can’t make any promises.”

“You…” Fury roared through Aria. It took everything in her not to scream down the line.

She forced herself back together and pressed on. “Where is my mother? I need to see her, or I won’t believe you. I’m willing to risk everything if I have to!”

“Look at your screen.”

Aria saw a live video feed of her mother. Her aunt even angled the timestamp into view to prove it was current.

After years of studying medicine, hoping to cure her mother, Aria knew her mother was her one weakness. She swallowed back the tears burning her eyes and finally whispered, trembling, “Fine…”

She ended the call, blinked the tears away, and turned back. She expected Silas to be gone. He was still there, unmoved.

“What did you want to talk about?” he asked, leaving her speechless.

She’d planned to talk about ending this—whatever this was between them—but the call had drained every last bit of urgency out of her. “Nothing.”

She looked down at the mud dried along the hem of her gown. She had spent the night feverish in someone else’s house, and no one had thought to bring her suitcase upstairs. The dress felt less like wedding clothes than evidence of what they had done to her.

Silas’s gaze cut through her, assessing her from head to toe. He had heard vicious rumors about Fiona’s school years and let them color his view of her whole family. Looking at Aria now, he reached for the same easy contempt instead of asking what had actually happened to her. It was a cruel assumption, and one he would regret.

“Filthy.”

“Filthy? What’s filthy?” Aria looked down and saw the soiled hem. His fault. Hadn’t he been the one who threw her into the flowerbed? She didn’t even have a change of clothes.

Before she could speak, Silas slammed the door shut with a bang. His cold voice echoed from the hallway. “Have housekeeping clean this room!”

So this was Silas’s room. No wonder it felt dark and suffocating—just like him.

“Miss Aria, your room is this way. Please follow me.” A maid led her to the room next to Silas’s.

Aria was relieved not to share a room with him. The maid opened the guest wardrobe and took out a sealed set of cotton loungewear, then laid a soft bathrobe on the bed. “These should fit while I have your luggage brought up,” she said. “I’ll send the gown to be cleaned.” Aria thanked her, showered, and changed into a plain white shirt and loose cotton trousers. Dry fabric against clean skin steadied her. Whatever this family expected, she did not have to face them in last night’s mud.

Downstairs, a commotion stirred. Then a maid knocked on her door. “Miss Aria, Mr. Collins has returned from the care facility. He wishes to see you.”

Mr. Collins? That would be Jericho Collins, father of the Collins brothers.

Not wanting to keep him waiting, Aria hurried downstairs. An older man in his sixties sat on the couch. Beside him was a regal-looking woman in her forties, dripping in opulent emerald jewelry. That was Silas’s mother, Eloise Collins.

Eloise was more than twenty years younger than Jericho. Rumor had it she’d gone to great lengths to marry him after his first wife died—a formidable woman, to say the least. The look she gave Aria was anything but friendly.

Seth and Silas sat on either side of their parents. The senior Collins had a commanding presence—sharp eyes beneath gray hair—but when he looked at Aria, there was warmth there.

“Aria, come sit. We’re all family here. No need to stand on ceremony.”

Aria wasn’t used to the name but did as she was told. “Thank you, Mr. Collins.” She picked the seat farthest from the family.

Eloise snorted. “What good is a girl who’s sold herself? My poor son deserves better.”

Jericho frowned at her.

“Am I wrong? The Turners are taking advantage of your soft heart to force this marriage pact now. Sending their daughter over without even a proper wedding—shameless!”

“Enough!” Jericho snapped. Eloise shut her mouth, but her eyes still bored into Aria with open disdain.

Aria flinched, her hand curling into a fist. Her aunt’s actions really were shameless.

Jericho’s gaze softened. “You can call me Dad when you’re ready. I had hoped to plan a celebration for you both, but the Turners rushed everything.”

He chuckled and took an ornate wooden box from the butler. “This is my gift to you.”

The butler opened the box. Seth and Eloise both shot to their feet. “Dad!” “Jericho!”

Inside lay a pair of exquisite emerald bracelets set in gold, their green stones glowing under the lights. Aria knew exactly what they were worth. At auction, they could fetch a small fortune. If they were antiques, they were priceless.

“Jericho, how could you give those bracelets to her?” Eloise’s face twisted with displeasure.

“Would you rather have them?” Jericho asked mildly.

Seth tried carefully. “Dad, those were Great-grandmother’s. If you give them to her, they’ll be…”

“They’ll be what?” Jericho cut him off, then turned to Silas, his silent second son. “Are you planning to divorce her?”

Silas lifted his head slowly. His eyes met Aria’s by accident. “Do you want a divorce?”

The softness of his words sent a chill down Aria’s spine. “I… I don’t… dare.”

“Don’t dare, or won’t?” His question hit like a nail straight to the heart.

Under the weight of every stare in the room, Aria took a deep breath. “I won’t!”

Silas rose from the couch with easy grace and walked toward her. With deliberate movements, he took the emerald bracelets and slid them slowly onto her slender wrists.

“Son! Those are your father’s heirlooms, and you’re giving them to this woman?” Eloise protested.

Ignoring his mother, Silas secured the bracelets in place. Then he leaned in and whispered, soft enough that only Aria could hear, “Prove you deserve them.”

For a moment, Aria felt like the bracelets were burning into her wrists. She wanted to break free, but Silas’s big hand locked around her wrist in an unyielding grip. His deep, menacing voice rolled over them again.

“So, Mother, who do you think should take them?”

“Well, I...”

Eloise looked ready to answer—then froze, her eyes wide with horror. She was Silas’s biological mother. So why was she staring at him like he was the Grim Reaper himself?

It wasn’t just her. Seth shot to his feet too, like he was trying to put distance between himself and the disaster about to hit.

Aria followed their gaze and saw Silas’s cold, obsidian eyes. The whites were slowly streaking red, swirling in a way that made her stomach drop. Panic shot through her chest. If she wasn’t mistaken, she’d seen this before—in her professor’s notes. Some kind of poisoning.

For a second, she couldn’t remember the details. Dazed, she heard Eloise’s soothing voice cut through the tension. “Silas, you’re exhausted. Why not go rest in your room?”

Silas seemed to realize something was wrong. He blinked hard, then released Aria’s hand and strode away with purpose. Jericho turned to Aria at once. “We’ll have dinner in the back garden later. Come with me to the garden, my dear.”

“Jericho, your health isn’t good. Let me help you up first,” Eloise said, already guiding him away and ordering the staff to clean up. The group hurried outside.

Aria watched them scramble, as if something monumental was about to happen.

Seth came over, his expression grim. “Miss Aria, you’d better hide in the garden. Silas... he’s not himself right now. Just go—quick!” He grabbed his jacket and rushed outside.

Aria followed, but as she reached the front door, a maid hurried up to her. “Miss Aria, Mr. Collins’s emergency medication was left in the second room on the left on the third floor. Could you fetch it for me? I’m swamped right now.”

The maid was gone before Aria could answer. Something about it felt off. Eloise might be meddling again. Aria took the stairs, the loose cuffs of her guest shirt brushing her hands. She found a sealed emergency case on a nightstand, labeled with Silas’s name. Whoever had sent her here had lied about what she was collecting.

Just as she was about to head back down, a loud crash echoed from upstairs, followed by a guttural roar of agony—like a wounded beast. Terrified, she clutched the medication and raced for the stairs, only to find a heavy iron gate blocking her escape. She was trapped in the corridor.

Behind her, the sounds of chaos kept growing.

Sweat trickled down her back as she carefully retreated toward the room. She’d barely moved when a deafening crash rang out—the heavy, dark wood door splintered under a powerful kick. In the shadow, a pair of blood-red eyes locked onto her.

Panic-stricken, Aria turned to flee. But the figure moved faster, clamping a hand around her throat with an iron grip.

“Cough...”

Aria nearly heard her bones crack. Her breath cut off. She flailed, struggling desperately, the pain medication slipping from her fingers. The crimson eyes drew closer until his breath brushed her face.

Finally, she recognized him: Silas Collins.

His sculpted features were sharp and defined, his dark eyes red as blood, prominent veins pulsing at his temples. Clarity struck her all at once—he was poisoned.

The pattern resembled Kranz neurotoxicity, an obscure plant-derived poisoning described in her mentor’s research. Severe episodes could cause delirium and dangerous agitation. It was an illness, not evidence that he was less than human.

Her breath grew scarce. She drove the heel of her hand against his grip and twisted sideways. His balance failed, and she stumbled free as he collapsed against the doorframe. Aria backed away, gasping. He had not been brought down by a miraculous pressure point; he was exhausted and dangerously ill.

Barefoot, Aria rushed to the iron gate at the stairs and pounded on it desperately. “Help! Is anyone there? Silas is sick—he needs help!” No one answered.

What could she do? Aria glanced back at Silas, sprawled just inside the door—the once-feared leader now looked like a trapped beast, tormented by toxins in the dim corridor.

Despite being the Collins heir—admired, feared—he looked pitiful to her now.

She remembered the emergency plan in her professor’s case notes. Then she opened the labeled case and found Silas’s prescribed rescue medication, instructions, and the number for his on-call physician.

A wall intercom beside the door connected her to the house manager. “Call his doctor. Now. And unlock this gate.”

Aria followed the physician’s instructions while keeping a safe distance whenever Silas became agitated. Staff finally reached the corridor with the medical team. Only when his breathing and pulse had steadied did the physician allow her to remain beside him.

The crisis eased gradually. It was not a cure. For now, it was enough that he could recognize the room again.

Aria breathed a sigh of relief, a small smile breaking across her face.

As she checked the blanket over him, his hand caught hers. She lost her balance and braced herself against the mattress beside his chest.

Silas’s eyes snapped open—no longer red, just icy calm.

“What did you give me?” he demanded.

The closeness was stifling. His heartbeat was loud and steady beneath her. Aria felt a wave of nerves, her voice trembling slightly as she tried to put some distance between them.

“Medicine...”

Silas shifted toward her, then stopped when she pulled back. His gaze remained sharp, but he let go of her hand.

Yesterday had been a blur. Today was different—now she was acutely aware of being in this man’s arms. Her face flushed crimson, hotter than before.

Silas leaned down, his lips brushing her ear, his voice a low, rumbling whisper. “Why are you getting close to me? What’s your real agenda?”

It was like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over her head. Aria’s embarrassment vanished in a heartbeat, replaced by a hot flash of anger that blazed in her almond-shaped eyes.

“It’s a doctor’s job to save lives,” she shot back.

Regret hit her almost immediately. Why had she even bothered to help him? Whether he lived or died shouldn’t have been any concern of hers!

A lump rose in her throat. She fought back tears, her eyes shimmering with everything she refused to say.

Silas’s gaze lingered on the defiant woman in front of him—tears shining in her eyes, chin still lifted. Something complicated flickered in his deep-set eyes.

Since the incident in the rainforest on a privately owned Caribbean island, every time the poison dragged Silas under, it took a full day and night before it loosened its grip, and each episode lasted longer than the last. This was the first time he had come back to himself within an hour.

When the poison had him in its grip, his staff usually locked down the Collins estate. So why was Aria here alone, in his quarters on the third floor? Had someone planned it—or was it pure chance?

Silas rose and extended a hand toward her. Aria flinched back on instinct, half expecting him to lash out again.

Instead, he lowered his arm and helped her up off the floor. His gaze dropped to the sleeve of her borrowed shirt. “Did I hurt you?”

Aria rubbed the wrist he had caught during the episode. “I’ll be all right.” That was not the same as telling him it had been all right.

Aria burned to defend herself, but she bit her tongue.

Before she could figure out how to leave, Silas walked to the hallway and peered through the keyhole of the iron door. A bell echoed through the Collins mansion.

A moment later, footsteps approached from the other side, and a servant opened the iron gate.

Jericho and the others came in from outside—and stopped dead. Seeing Silas unharmed and coming down from the third floor clearly rattled them.

Seth hurried over, surprise plain in his eyes. “Silas, how did you—?”

Then he noticed Aria and turned to her. “Aria, are you okay? Did Silas hurt you?”

“I’m fine, Seth. He was...” Poisoned.

In one sudden move, Silas hooked an arm around Aria and pulled her against him, until her cheek rested near his chin. His voice was silk over steel. “Am I not enough for you? Already looking for another man?”

He spoke quietly—just loud enough for Seth and the others to hear.

“I would never!” Aria’s protest came out fierce. She had risked her life to save him, and now he was questioning her loyalty?

In that moment, anger and outrage eclipsed the sting of his accusation.

“Then behave. I, Silas Collins, won’t tolerate infidelity.”

“Rest assured, Aria Collins isn’t as shallow as you think!”

She clenched her fists, struggling under the weight of it—the betrayal from her own father and aunt cutting deeper than Silas’s words.

“Enough. Let’s go down for dinner,” Jericho said, breaking the tension.

Thankfully, dinner passed without further drama, and Aria made it back to her room.

That night, a servant knocked with bags full of clothes and shoes—undergarments included—all still tagged from the store.

Could Silas have had a change of heart? Was this his way of thanking her?

She thanked the servant, an unexpected warmth settling in her chest.

She was still changing when another knock came at her door.

“Just a second,” Aria called, yanking up the zipper at her back before opening the door.

Seth leaned against the doorframe.

Silas’s warning echoed in her head. Her heart skipped. “Seth.”

“Why so formal? Just call me Seth,” he said, warmth in his voice. There was something easy about him—like a gentle breeze.

“I’d rather keep it formal, Mr. Collins. Why are you here?” Her relationship with Silas might be a mess, but having Seth at her door felt improper.

Seth slid his hands into his pockets, admiration open in his eyes as he looked her over. “I came to see if the clothes fit. If they don’t, I can exchange them.”

Aria went still. Seth had bought the clothes.

Silas couldn’t possibly be that generous.

Suddenly the outfit felt wrong on her skin. She wanted nothing more than to change.

“Thank you, Mr. Collins. It fits fine. I’ll pay you back,” Aria said.

“Call me that again and I’ll be offended,” he teased. Then something seemed to occur to him. “Do you need anything for your visit home in two days?”

Visit home...

Bitterness spread from her chest all the way to her fingertips. What was there to go back to in that house?

But the thought of her mother sparked a flicker of hope.

“No need, Mr. Collins.”

Seth stepped closer and brushed a strand of hair away from her neck.

Aria instinctively stepped back, watching him warily.

He lifted the clothing tags. “May I?” He offered to cut them off.

“Thank you.”

Was she overthinking this? Seth’s actions felt far too suggestive.

Her heart stayed on guard. Seth’s easy manner confused her.

Before she knew it, the day of her visit arrived. When she got into the car, she noticed the back seat packed with beautifully wrapped gift boxes.

Could they be from Seth?

She couldn’t picture Silas doing something like this...

Her gaze drifted and caught Seth’s warm smile.

Then her wrist was seized without warning.

“The bracelet?”

Aria hesitated. “It’s too valuable. I took it off.”

Silas’s gaze turned to ice. “You dare take off something I gave you? Or do you only treasure his gifts? Don’t think I didn’t notice you flirting.”

She had barely looked at Seth, and already it was flirtation?

“You have five minutes to put that bracelet back on.”

Aria bit her lip and hurried back to her room.

Five minutes later, to the second, Silas saw the emerald bracelet back on her wrist and signaled the driver to go.

For the first time, Aria saw just how grand the Collins estate really was. Beyond the castle-like red-brick mansion where they lived, several two-story buildings sprawled out behind it. Past the Collins garden stretched a wide field of flower beds, violets still vivid even in late autumn.

It took twenty minutes just to reach the Collins gates.

Her visit was supposed to be about seeing her mother. Instead, her father had invited every Turner relative and friend, eager to show off her marriage into the Collins family.

Faced with all those welcoming smiles, Aria pressed her lips together and refused to move.

“Expecting me to carry you?” Silas’s sharp voice cut in beside her ear.

“I wouldn’t dare.”

Aria opened the car door and stepped out in a fresh red day dress from her own suitcase. The three-quarter sleeves left the emerald bracelet on her wrist in full view.

Victor spotted the bracelet immediately, his fox-like eyes narrowing with suspicion.

Silas came up beside her, his suit perfectly tailored, his gaze fixed sharply on Victor.

“Welcome, Silas,” Victor began, already reaching to shake his hand.

Aria stepped between them. “Before the photographs, tell your guests who was supposed to be standing here.”

A ripple of confusion went through the Turner relatives. Fiona’s smile froze.

“Aria,” Victor warned.

“Fiona was the proposed bride. I took her place.” Aria met her aunt’s eyes. “You can at least thank me for saving your arrangement.”

Victor and Fiona exchanged a panicked glance. They could tolerate the announced substitution. They could not afford questions about how they had obtained Aria’s agreement.

“Is this how the Turner family welcomes guests?” Silas’s patience was clearly wearing thin.

Aria shot Fiona a contemptuous look. “Without basic manners, I’m not setting foot in the Turner house.”

Every eye was on them. Fiona was trapped.

She gritted her teeth. “Thank you, Aria.”

Aria deliberately looped her arm through Silas’s, her pink lips curving into a cold smile. “There. That wasn’t so difficult.”