The Ring
ARIANA'S POV
The road blurred beneath my tires, a steady rhythm of asphalt and memory. I didn’t know when I’d made the decision to drive here, only that the house had suddenly felt too tight, too loud with everything unsaid. My mother’s voice haunted my ears—“I think you should break things off with Hardin.” Like that was an option. Like I could ever walk away from him and still call it living.
The city melted behind me. High-rises gave way to winding roads and open fields that glimmered gold under the morning sun. And then the forest appeared, flanking either side of the narrow path like silent guardians.
And finally—the river.
I pulled over just before the bridge. The engine cut off with a shudder, but I didn’t move. My hands rested on the wheel, my breath fogging faintly in the crisp morning air. This place always felt untouched by time. Untouched by the chaos that followed me everywhere else.
I stepped out, my heels sinking slightly into the earth, and made my way to the middle of the bridge.
There it was.
The same swirling current. The same worn wooden planks beneath my feet. The same wind that used to lift my father’s voice like magic.
“Life is about fighting for what you believe is right, baby girl.” His voice echoed in my memory, strong and certain. “Hold on to the people you love. Even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard.”
Tears pricked the corners of my eyes. I looked down into the water, watching it rush over rocks like it had somewhere to be. Like it wasn’t stuck between impossible choices and old ghosts.
“I’m tired, Dad,” I whispered.
The wind caught my words, carried them away.
“I’m so tired of running. Of fighting shadows. But I can’t give up now. Not after everything you built. Everything you protected.”
I pressed my hand to my chest, feeling my heart race.
“I won’t let those sharks anywhere near Miller Enterprises. They’ll have to go through me first.”
And Hardin...
A fresh wave of emotion surged through me. The way he looked at me like I was his entire world. The fire in his voice when he promised to protect me.
“I’m not walking away from him,” I said aloud, the words solidifying like concrete. “Not now. Not ever.”
The burden lifted—just a little. Like I’d peeled off one layer of suffocating doubt. My shoulders loosened, my spine straightened.
I turned back to the car, my steps more certain now. It was time to face the day. Time to fight back.
****
The city greeted me with its usual noise and speed, but something inside me had shifted.
As I pulled into the underground garage of the Miller building, I saw the guards nod at me. Familiar, loyal faces. I climbed out, my heels clicking confidently as I walked to the elevator, bag in hand, and hit the button for the top floor.
The doors opened to the sleek, modern expanse of my office. Glass walls. Polished marble floors. Art that cost more than some cars. It was my kingdom. My battlefield.
I didn’t pause. I crossed to my desk, set my things down, and began reviewing the launch checklist. Our new jewelry line was set to debut next week, and there were meetings, approvals, press kits. No time to spiral.
I buried myself in the work. Marketing briefs. Design prototypes. I signed three contracts and approved a shipment schedule before I realized the phone was ringing.
I reached for it instinctively.
"Hardin," flashed across the screen.
My heart skipped.
I swallowed and hit answer. “Hey.”
His voice came through, smooth and warm like honey. “You sound tired.”
“I’m fine,” I said, trying to sound brighter. I forced a small laugh. “Just juggling a million things.”
There was a pause. Then—
“Babe... you’re not hiding anything from me, are you?”
The breath caught in my throat.
“No,” I said, injecting cheer into my tone. “Of course not.”
“Because if there’s anything going on... anything at all...”
“There is something,” I said, grinning into the phone.
A beat.
“What?” he asked, voice suddenly alert.
“Your voice is very, very sexy.”
There was silence—and then a deep, rich laugh that warmed me to my toes.
“Jesus, Ari,” he said. “You scared the hell out of me.”
“Mission accomplished.”
His voice softened. “I miss you.”
“I miss you more.”
“You sure everything’s okay?” he asked again, quieter this time.
And for a moment, I wanted to tell him everything. The ring. The man in my room. My mother’s warning. But I couldn’t—not yet.
So I smiled through the phone. “I’ve got this, Hardin. Promise.”
“Alright,” he said slowly. “But if you ever need me—”
“You’ll burn down the world. I know.”
He laughed again, low and deadly. “Damn right.”
We ended the call, and I set the phone down with a shaky exhale.
Then I leaned back, mind spinning.
The ring.
The one that was found in that man’s hand. My father’s ring. There was no possible way it should’ve resurfaced. Unless...
I stood abruptly and crossed to my private safe, unlocking it with the digital panel and my thumbprint. I pulled out the folder marked M.E. – Private Security. My father had kept a list of trusted contacts. People who owed him favors. People who didn’t ask questions.
I found the one I needed.
Dante Rivas.
A fixer. A tracker. The kind of man who lived in the shadows and whispered to the dead.
If anyone could find out how that ring got into my room, it was him.
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