You'll Never Belong
ARIANA'S POV
The wind was colder now. Or maybe I was just colder inside.
I stood there, unmoving, as the waves crashed against the rocks far below the bridge. The same bridge where I once held my father’s hand and laughed at ducks that chased breadcrumbs. The same bridge where I now stood shattered, every piece of me threatening to crumble and fall like dust into that angry river.
I didn’t know how long I’d been standing there, but my legs ached. My back hurt. My face was stiff from the dried tears caking my skin. And yet I couldn’t move.
My thoughts had become a prison. A never-ending spiral of pain and disbelief.
Was my mother even buried?
The thought struck me like lightning.
She said she fell into the water. But no one ever found her body.
No bones. No remains. No peace.
Was that how they got away with it?
Was that how she—the woman who pretended to be her—managed to step into her life like a perfect imitation?
I clutched my arms tightly around myself as the nausea rose in my throat. My stomach turned with a sick twist of grief and self-loathing. I wanted to scream again, but the scream was lodged somewhere deep in my soul now—rotting, too heavy to rise.
I should have known.
How could I not have known?
They looked so much alike—down to the smile lines, the shape of her nose, the way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was nervous.
But it wasn’t her.
And now I couldn’t stop hating myself for it.
I wanted to throw myself off the bridge.
The thought came fast. Sharp. Uninvited.
What would it feel like? The wind in my face. The water swallowing me. Peace. Silence.
But then—her voice. My mother’s real voice—echoed somewhere deep in my memory.
“Be strong, baby. No matter what. You’re my warrior.”
I sucked in a breath, sharp and jagged. My fingers gripped the cold railing like it could anchor me to this world.
She wouldn’t want this.
She wouldn’t want me to give up.
But God, it hurt.
I closed my eyes, breathing deep, trying to steady the hurricane inside me.
One breath in.
One breath out.
Just one more breath.
I straightened up slowly, muscles screaming in protest. My hand reached for my phone in my coat pocket, fingers numb.
I needed to call someone. I didn’t know who—maybe Hardin, maybe anyone—but I couldn’t be alone right now.
Just as I turned to go—
A voice.
Low. Smug. Infuriatingly casual.
“Enjoying the view?”
I froze.
Every cell in my body seized. I turned so fast it made the world spin.
And there he was.
Garry.
Standing behind me like this was all some goddamn joke. Like he wasn’t supposed to be rotting in a prison cell for the rest of his miserable life.
He wore a dark coat, hands shoved in his pockets like he was out for a morning stroll.
My heart dropped to my stomach.
“What... what the hell are you doing here?” I breathed, backing away instinctively. “You’re supposed to be in prison.”
He tilted his head and shrugged, like it was no big deal. Like he’d just walked out of a cafe and not a maximum-security cell.
“Funny how things work out,” he said coolly. “You’d be surprised how many people are willing to do favors… for the right price.”
My blood ran cold.
“You bastard!” I snapped. “You killed my mother!”
A slow, cruel smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“Oh,” he said, dragging out the word. “So she finally told you.”
My fists clenched at my sides. I wanted to lunge at him. I wanted to claw his smug face off with my bare hands. But my body stayed frozen.
He sighed, like I was exhausting him.
“Honestly, I thought she’d take that secret to the grave. Guess even she had a breaking point.”
He shook his head like she—the imposter—was the real disappointment here.
“You’re disgusting,” I hissed. “You knew she wasn’t my mother. You made her pretend. You kept her under your thumb all this time.”
He lifted his eyes to meet mine, and for a split second, I saw the monster underneath.
“Oh, don’t look at me like I’m the bad guy,” he said, stepping closer. “She had a choice. They always do. And you? You thought you could send me to prison and everything would go back to normal?”
“You’re insane,” I whispered.
He smirked. “No. I’m prepared. Unlike you.”
His eyes narrowed as he walked another step toward me.
“You really thought the Miller empire belonged to you? That little paper crown you wear makes you queen of something?”
He laughed—sharp and cold.
“You’re just a scared little girl playing grown-up. You’re not strong enough to run the company. You’re not even strong enough to see through a mask.”
I clenched my jaw, forcing the words past the fury building in my throat.
“You’re not a Miller,” I spat. “You married my aunt. That’s all. You don’t belong. You never did.”
His eyes flickered. That hit a nerve.
“I’m the only one capable of running that company,” he growled, stepping close enough that I could smell the cigarette smoke on his breath. “Not some emotional little woman who thinks she’s special because she carries the name.”
My hand shot into my coat pocket.
“I’m calling the police.”
But before I could unlock the phone, I heard it.
Something slammed against the back of my skull.
Pain exploded through my head like fireworks, white-hot and blinding.
The phone slipped from my fingers.
My knees buckled.
The last thing I saw before the darkness swallowed me was Garry’s face—smiling.
****
I woke up in darkness.
My head throbbed. My mouth was dry. My hands were tied.
Panic surged through me like a tidal wave as I tried to move.
Nothing.
Rope around my wrists. Something rough against my back. Cement?
Where the hell was I?
The air was damp. Cold. Smelled like mildew and oil.
Some kind of basement?
I blinked against the blur, trying to focus, but the pain in my skull made it nearly impossible.
Then—I heard footsteps.
And his voice.
Garry.
“You never learn, do you?”
I turned toward the sound, my eyes slowly adjusting.
He stood in the doorway, arms crossed, like he owned the place. Like this was just another Tuesday for him.
“What... what do you want?” I croaked.
He smiled.
“I told you,” he said. “I’m not done.”
He stepped into the light, and I finally saw him clearly.
Calm. Polished. And completely unhinged.
“You think this is about revenge? About some petty grudge?” He knelt beside me. “This is about power, sweetheart. And your little fairy tale ends tonight.”
I glared at him through the pain.
“You’re not getting the company. You’re not getting anything.”
He leaned in, his smile widening.
“Oh, but I already have something.” He tapped the side of his head. “Your signature. Your access codes. Your emails. Your network. All thanks to the lovely woman who played mommy dearest so well.”
“You’re lying.”
He laughed. “Am I? Then why don’t you check your phone? Oh, wait. You can’t.”
My heart pounded like a drum of dread.
What had he done?
What had I walked into?
He stood up slowly, dusting his coat off like this was some casual business meeting.
“I have everything I need, Ariana. And you? You’re just a loose end.”
My blood ran cold.
He turned toward the door.
“Sleep tight,” he said over his shoulder. “Tomorrow... we say goodbye.”
The door slammed shut.
I screamed.
I screamed until my throat tore.
But no one came.
And in that dark, suffocating silence, I realized—
I might never escape this.
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