Episode 4: INSIDE The Dragons Liar

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‎Aria’s eyelids felt heavy, like lead curtains pinned against the harsh reality of waking up. When she finally forced them open, the metallic tang of blood and rain was gone, replaced by the faint, earthy scent of sandalwood and expensive cedar.

‎She wasn't on the wet, asphalt ground. She was lying on a mattress so impossibly soft it felt like sinking into quicksand.

‎Aria bolted upright, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. The movement made her head spin. She looked down and gasped—her soaked, cheap stage dress was gone. In its place, she wore a heavy, midnight-black silk robe that slid coolly against her bare skin.

‎"Vitals are stable, but her adrenaline levels remain dangerously high," a trembling voice muttered to her left.

‎Aria snapped her head around. Standing by the bedside were three people dressed in pristine white medical scrubs. They looked pale, their foreheads slick with sweat, hands visibly shaking as they held specialized medical equipment.

‎This wasn't a hospital.

‎Aria looked past them, taking in the room. It was massive, spanning a gothic-modern architectural style with floor-to-ceiling glass windows. Outside, a violent storm lashed against the glass, overlooking a pitch-black ocean that crashed against the cliffs below. The room itself was decorated in dark marble, heavy velvet curtains, and a towering canopy bed draped in black silk.

‎"Where... where am I?" Aria’s voice was a raw, breathless croak. "My mother—"

‎The heavy oak doors of the room clicked open.

‎The three doctors instantly froze, dropping their gaze to the floor as if a god had just stepped into the room.

‎It was him.

‎Valen Vance—or whatever his real name was—stepped inside. In the dim lighting of the penthouse, he looked less like a human gangster and more like a beautifully sculpted statue of death. He had shed his bloody trench coat, wearing only a crisp, tailored black shirt with the top buttons undone, revealing a pale, flawless collarbone. The rain hadn't ruined his dark hair; it clung to his forehead in neat, damp waves.

‎But it was his eyes that made Aria choke on her own breath. They weren't brown. They flashed with a predatory, luminous crimson under the shadows.

‎"Leave us," Valerius commanded. His voice was a deep, velvety baritone that vibrated straight through the floorboards.

‎"Sir, we haven't finished the neurological scan—" one of the doctors stammered.

‎Valerius didn't argue. He simply stepped closer, locking his piercing gaze onto the lead doctor. The crimson in his eyes flared, swirling like a vortex. "You are finished. You will pack your equipment, walk out of this estate, and forget you ever came here tonight. You attended a routine conference. Nothing more."

‎Aria watched in absolute, paralyzed horror. The doctor’s eyes instantly went blank, his pupils dilating into empty disks.

‎"Yes, Mr. Vance," the doctor repeated mechanically.

‎Without another word, the three medical professionals packed their bags in eerie, synchronized silence and marched out of the room, closing the heavy doors behind them.

‎Mind control, Aria’s brain screamed, the puzzle pieces slamming together with terrifying speed. He just erased their memories.

‎She threw the black silk covers off her legs and scrambled backward until her spine hit the heavy wooden headboard of the bed. She pulled the silk robe tightly around her neck, staring at him as if he were a demon manifested from her worst nightmares.

‎"Who... what are you?" she whispered, her voice trembling violently.

‎The human world whispered rumors about Valen Vance. They said he was the ghost of San Cristóbal. They said he was a mythical mafia godfather who had ruled the city's underground for decades without ever aging a single day. People who crossed him simply ceased to exist.

‎Now, looking at the unnatural grace of his movements and the faint, lethal curve of his fangs against his lower lip, she knew the truth. He wasn't a man. He was the monster from the fairy tales her father used to warn her about.

‎Valerius walked over, entirely unbothered by her blinding terror. He sat casually on the edge of the mattress. The bed barely sank under his weight. He didn't look at her with anger; his expression was completely detached, analyzing her like a scientist studying a strange specimen.

‎With a flick of his pale wrist, he tossed a heavy, bloody, leather-bound folder onto her lap.

‎Aria flinched but looked down. Smudged fingerprints of dark, drying blood stained the edges of the paperwork. Through the clear plastic cover, she recognized the official seal: it was the legally binding deed to her father's music studio.

‎"Your pathetic excuse of a boyfriend sold that to the Navarro Cartel for a fraction of its worth," Valerius said smoothly, tracing a manicured finger along his jawline. "He thought he could use their sicarios to erase you and secure his payout."

‎Aria’s breath hitched. "You... you stole it back?"

‎"I don't steal, little bird," Valerius replied, a cold, humorless smirk touching his lips. "I execute. While you were sleeping off your panic attack, I spent the last three hours wiping out the entire mid-level leadership of the Navarro Cartel. Every man who hunted you tonight is currently feeding the fish at the bottom of that ocean."

‎He leaned forward, his terrifying presence washing over her like a physical weight.

‎"The studio doesn't belong to your ex. And it doesn't belong to the cartel. It is now officially, legally, mine."

‎Before Aria could even process the brutal massacre he had just casually described, Valerius reached into his pocket and slid a second piece of paper onto the bed. It was a financial statement from San Cristóbal General Hospital.

‎At the bottom, the outstanding medical debt of $250,000 for her mother's life-sustaining treatment was stamped in bold green letters: PAID IN FULL BY VANCE ENTERPRISES.

‎Aria’s heart stopped. She looked from the paper up to his deadly, beautiful face. "Why? Why would you pay for her?"

‎"Because I don't give gifts, Aria," Valerius murmured. He shifted closer, sliding his hand across the black silk sheet until his cold fingers touched her ankle. Aria shivered, the temperature in the room seeming to drop to freezing. "I buy leverage. I own your father's legacy. And right now, I own the electricity keeping your mother’s heart beating. Her life is quite literally in my hands."

‎Tears of anger and helplessness spilled over Aria’s cheeks. She gripped the folder tightly, knuckles turning white. "What do you want from me? If you're going to kill me, just do it! Why play these sick games?"

‎Valerius stood up, towering over her like a shadow blocking out the world. He leaned down, placing one hand on the headboard right next to her ear. The scent of sandalwood enveloped her entirely as his cold breath brushed against her skin.

‎"Your boyfriend sold your father's legacy," he whispered, his voice dark, possessive, and dangerously intimate. "Now, Aria Linley... I am buying your soul."

‎He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a sleek, silver fountain pen along with a crisp, black-bordered document.

‎"You are going to sign this contract. There are two inconvertible, unbreakable rules you will follow: First, in private, you belong to me—you will sing whenever I demand it to soothe my monster's thirst. Second, in public, you will wear my diamond ring and play the part of my submissive, devoted fake fiancée to the entire world. If you refuse..." Valerius tapped his watch, a cruel flare of crimson returning to his eyes. "...I will call the hospital, and your mother’s life support gets unplugged in exactly ten minutes."

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