Impossible!
HARDIN'S POV
I walked her to her car slowly, not wanting the evening to end just yet. The scent of her perfume still clung to my clothes, wrapped around my skin like a promise I wasn’t ready to let go of. The night air was cool, a slight breeze catching the edges of her dark hair, making it dance across her face.
Ariana turned to me before reaching the door, her lips already parted, ready to say something—but I beat her to it.
“Drive safely, okay?” I murmured, tucking a loose strand behind her ear. “Text me when you get home.”
“I will.” She smiled, soft and tired. But it was real this time. Not the fake corporate mask. Not the guarded public smile. Just her.
I kissed her. Gently. Slowly. Like sealing a pact only the two of us could understand. And when I pulled away, I didn’t want to let go. But I did. I opened the car door for her, and she slid in.
“I love you,” I said as she started the engine.
She glanced up at me, that faint smile returning. “I know. And I love you more.”
I stood there like an idiot, watching her tail lights disappear down the street until they vanished completely.
Only then did I turn to my own car, slipping behind the wheel, the leather creaking beneath me. I gripped the steering wheel tight and let out a breath I didn’t even realize I was holding.
This night wasn’t over.
I drove to the mansion.
The gates opened slowly, like everything in this damn house moved at its own arrogant pace. As I pulled up the driveway, the estate loomed before me, grand and cold under the moonlight. A palace of marble and glass, wrapped in secrets.
I parked the car and stepped out. Silence greeted me.
Too quiet.
It was well past midnight. Most of the staff had probably gone to their quarters. I considered waiting until morning to talk to my mother. But no. I couldn’t. Not after what Ariana had been through. Not after that conversation over dinner where I saw just how much this all was costing her.
I needed to put an end to it.
I moved through the halls, the soles of my shoes echoing faintly on the polished floors.
Then I heard it.
"Son, I’ve been waiting for you."
Her voice was smooth, honeyed, deceptively sweet.
I turned.
There she was, sitting with a glass of wine in her hand, wrapped in a silk robe like some goddamn empress in exile. My mother. Veronica Richard. Beautiful. Controlled. Dangerous.
"We need to talk," I said, my voice flat.
She sipped her wine. "Yes. We do."
She stood and floated to the sitting area, gesturing for me to follow. I did, jaw tight, pulse pounding.
We sat. Opposite sides of the same battlefield.
"I don’t like your attitude toward Ariana," I said without preamble.
Her brow arched slightly, but she didn’t respond immediately.
So I pressed on.
"The way you look at her. The comments. The whispers. It stops now."
She set her wine down gently on the glass table.
"And I don’t like your attitude toward Beatrice."
My laugh was humorless.
"Beatrice? The woman who does nothing but throw herself at me?"
"Beatrice," she said pointedly, "is the right woman for you. She's from a good family. Trained. Educated. Loyal."
"Trained? You make her sound like a goddamn dog."
Her eyes flashed. "You know what I mean."
"No," I said, standing. "I don’t. What I know is I love Ariana."
Her lips pressed into a thin line. "You can’t be serious."
"I’ve never been more serious. She’s going to be my wife."
The words hung in the air like a loaded gun.
Her expression cracked.
Just for a second.
"You’re joking."
"I’m not."
She stood abruptly. "Impossible. I will not allow it."
"You don’t get to allow anything. This is my life, Mother. My choice. And I’ve chosen her."
She began pacing, muttering under her breath. Then she turned on me.
"You think you’re in love, but you’re just blinded. Ariana’s beneath you. She’s a Miller!"
"So what?" I snapped. "She’s smart. She’s strong. Powerful. She doesn’t bow to this world of manipulation and masks. Maybe that’s what terrifies you. That I love someone who sees through all your bullshit."
She flinched, but recovered quickly.
"She will ruin you. She’ll destroy everything we’ve worked for. Everything your father built."
I stepped closer.
"No. What will ruin me is living a life dictated by fear, by pedigree, by boardroom alliances and bloodlines. That’s not love. That’s politics."
She stared at me for a long time. And then, without another word, she turned and walked away.
"Mom," I called.
She didn’t stop.
"Mom!"
She disappeared down the hall.
I stood there, heart racing, fingers curled into fists.
My breath came in shallow bursts as I ran both hands through my hair.
God, this was devastating.
Why couldn’t she see what I saw?
Why was it so hard for her to accept that I had finally found someone who made me feel like a person and not a product?
I dropped onto the nearest couch and buried my face in my hands.
I couldn’t lose Ariana. I wouldn’t.
But the war lines were drawn now.
This wasn’t just about love anymore.
It was about control. About legacy. About breaking a cycle that had strangled the Millers and Richards.
And damn it, I was ready to fight.
Even if it meant fighting my own mother.
I took a long breath, then pulled out my phone. I stared at the screen for a second, then typed:
Me: Are you home safe?
Her reply came a moment later:
Ariana: Just walked in. Missing you already.
God, she had no idea just how much that meant to me right now.
Me: I love you. More than anything.
Ariana: I love you too. Forever, remember?
Forever.
Yeah.
Even if the whole damn world wanted to burn it down.
I looked toward the hall my mother disappeared down, then back at the text.
This wasn’t over.
Not by a long shot.
But I had Ariana.
And that made me dangerous.
That made me unstoppable.
Let them come.
Let the headlines twist, the board members scheme, and the ghosts of my family try to tear us apart.
We weren’t just fireproof.
We were the fire.
And I would burn the world down to protect what we had.
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