"We need to eat," Harland said, steering the truck toward the curb. "The engine is overheating anyway. Needs to cool down."

Aria looked out the window. Her blood ran cold. They were parked directly in front of the Union Square Greenmarket. The exact location of the livestream.

"No," Aria said, shrinking into her seat. "Not here. Let's go somewhere else."

"Truck won't make it," Harland lied effortlessly. He killed the engine. "Come on. Fresh air will do you good."

"Harland, you don't understand-"

"I understand you're hungry," he said. He opened his door and walked around to her side. He opened it. "Out."

Aria hesitated, then pulled her hood up. Maybe they wouldn't see her.

They walked into the market. It was crowded with the Saturday brunch crowd. Harland carried the plastic bags from the discount store, looking completely unbothered. Aria walked with her head down, staring at the pavement.

"Oh my god," a shrill voice pierced the air. "Is that Aria?"

Aria froze. She slowly looked up.

Corina stood ten feet away, holding a basket of organic kale. Julian was beside her, holding a phone on a gimbal, live-streaming to thousands.

"It is!" Corina laughed, covering her mouth. "And who is... oh wow."

Julian lowered the phone, pointing the camera directly at Aria and Harland. "Look at this, guys. The fallen princess and her... what is he? A homeless guy?"

The comments on the screen were scrolling too fast to read, but Aria knew what they said. Trash. Loser. Karma.

"Julian, stop," Aria said, her voice shaking.

"Why?" Julian stepped closer, a sneer on his face. "You look terrible, Aria. That hoodie? Is that polyester?"

Harland dropped the grocery bags. They hit the ground with a heavy thud.

He stepped in front of Aria. He didn't shove Julian. He just occupied the space, his height and breadth eclipsing the other man.

"Move," Harland said. His voice was quiet, but it carried a weight that made the air around them feel heavy.

Julian scoffed, but he took a half-step back. "Who the hell are you? Her dealer?"

Harland looked at Julian. He didn't look at him like a rival. He looked at him like he was a bug on a windshield.

"I'm the guy telling you to get that camera out of my face before I feed it to you," Harland said. As he spoke, he angled his body, turning his head slightly so his face was mostly obscured from the phone's lens by his shoulder and the shadow of his hood.

"Do you know who I am?" Julian puffed out his chest. "I'm Julian Vance. My family owns-"

"I don't care," Harland interrupted. "And it doesn't matter."

The dismissal was absolute. Julian blinked, his face flushing red. He wasn't used to being irrelevant.

Aria grabbed Harland's sleeve. Her fingers dug into the leather. "Harland, please. Let's just go."

Harland looked down at her. The coldness in his eyes vanished instantly. "Okay."

He reached out and took her hand. He interlaced their fingers. His grip was firm, grounding.

Aria stared at their hands.

"Running away again, Aria?" Corina called out. "Dad is so disappointed."

Aria stopped. She felt Harland's strength flowing into her. She turned her head.

"Tell him I don't care," Aria said loud enough for the microphone to pick up. "Tell him I'm married."

The silence that followed was absolute. Julian's jaw dropped.

"Married?" he sputtered. "To him?"

"Yes," Aria said. "To him."

She tugged on Harland's hand. "Let's go home."

They walked away, leaving the stunned couple and the chaotic livestream behind. Aria's heart was racing so fast she thought she might pass out.

But Harland didn't let go of her hand until they were two blocks away.

The "loft" in Brooklyn was actually a raw industrial space with exposed brick and drafty windows. Harland unlocked the heavy metal door and kicked it open.

"Home sweet home," he said.

Aria walked in. It was sparse. A mattress on the floor, a few easels covered in canvas, a small kitchenette. It was cold.

"I'm sorry," Aria said, sitting on the edge of the mattress. "I shouldn't have said that. Now they know."

Harland put the groceries on the counter. "So what? It's the truth."

Aria pulled out her phone. Her notifications were a solid block of white text.

Trending: AriaYoungMarried HomelessHusband

She opened Instagram. Her DMs were flooded with hate. You're pathetic. Did you pay him? Corina is so much prettier.

Her hands started to shake. The walls of the room felt like they were closing in.

"Stop," Harland said.

He was standing over her. He reached down and plucked the phone from her hands.

"Hey!"

"Garbage belongs in the trash," he said. He looked at the screen for one second, his eyes darkening, then he tossed the phone onto the mattress. "They want to hurt you. Why are you letting them?"

"Because they're my world!" Aria cried, tears spilling over. "My connections, my reputation... Julian will ruin me."

"Julian is a gnat," Harland said. "And that world? It's toxic. Do you want to be Aria, or do you want to be the Young family punching bag?"

Aria wiped her eyes. She looked at the phone. It buzzed again.

"I don't know how to be anyone else," she whispered.

"Start by deleting it," Harland said. "All of it. Disappear."

Aria stared at him. "Delete... everything?"

"Burn it down," he said. "Start fresh."

Aria picked up the phone. Her thumb hovered over the Delete Account button on Instagram. Her heart pounded. This was her history. Her photos. Her life.

She pressed it.

Are you sure?

Yes.

She went to Facebook. Twitter. She paused when she got to LinkedIn. Her professional life, her portfolio, her connections to the industry... that was different. She couldn't erase that if she ever wanted to work again.

She took a deep breath and changed the privacy settings to their maximum, making her profile visible only to her direct connections. She deactivated the account instead of deleting it, a temporary severing of ties. With every click, the tightness in her chest loosened.

When she was done, she looked at Harland.

"Now the SIM," he said.

Aria popped the tray open. She took out the small chip. She snapped it in half. It made a satisfying crack.

She threw the pieces into the trash can.

"I'm gone," she breathed. "I'm invisible."

Harland reached into his pocket and pulled out a cheap-looking flip phone. "Here. Burner. Pre-paid. Nobody has this number except me."

Aria took it. It felt like a toy. "Thank you."

"Hungry?" Harland asked, turning to the kitchen. "I'll make that curry."

Aria watched him chop onions. His movements were precise, rhythmic.

"Harland?"

"Yeah?"

"Why are you helping me? Really?"

He paused, the knife hovering over a carrot. "Because I know what it's like to be surrounded by sharks."

He didn't say anything else.

Back in the Young mansion, Julian threw his iPhone against the wall. It shattered.

"She deleted it," he screamed. "She's gone! I can't track her!"

Eugenia sipped her wine, looking bored. "Relax, darling. I just froze her credit cards. She'll be crawling back when she gets hungry."

In Brooklyn, Aria took a bite of the chicken curry. It was spicy, warm, and the best thing she had ever tasted.

Rain lashed against the large warehouse windows, blurring the city lights into streaks of neon. The loft was dark, lit only by a few candles Harland had found.

They sat on the rug, a bottle of cheap red wine between them.

Aria took a sip from a coffee mug. The wine was acidic, but it warmed her blood.

"I used to hate the rain," Aria said, staring at the window. "When I was little, Eugenia wouldn't let me in the main house if it was raining. She said I tracked mud. Corina could play in the puddles, but I had to wait in the garage until I was dry."

Harland swirled the wine in his glass. His face was in shadow. "She sounds like a witch."

"She is," Aria laughed, a bitter sound. "And Julian... he used to tell me I was lucky he put up with me. He said my designs were 'derivative.' That I had no eye."

Harland set his glass down. The sound was sharp against the wood floor.

"I saw your sketches," he said.

Aria froze. "What?"

"In your portfolio. When you dropped it at the bar," he lied. He had actually seen them when his team did due diligence on her family. "The Lloyd Center drafts."

"They're messy," Aria mumbled, looking down.

"They're brilliant," Harland said. His voice was firm. "The use of light? The structural tension? Julian is an idiot. He wouldn't know architecture if it fell on him."

Aria looked up. Her eyes were wide, shimmering with unshed tears. "You really think so?"

"I know so," Harland said. "You have a gift, Aria. They tried to bury it because they were threatened by it."

A tear rolled down her cheek. Then another. The dam broke.

She scrambled forward, dropping her mug, and buried her face in Harland's chest. She sobbed, her body shaking with years of suppressed grief.

Harland stiffened. He held his hands up for a second, unsure. Then, slowly, he lowered them. One hand settled on her back, the other on her hair.

He smelled of rain and something else-cedarwood and crisp linen. It was an expensive scent, incongruous with the setting, but Aria was too distraught to notice.

"They're garbage," Harland whispered into her hair. "Let them go."

Aria cried until she was empty. She stayed there, listening to the steady thrum of his heart. It was slow, calm. It made her feel safe.

Eventually, her breathing evened out. She fell asleep right there on the rug, her head on his lap.

Harland looked down at her. Her face was pale, her eyelashes clumped together. She looked fragile.

He carefully scooped her up. She was light. He carried her to the mattress and laid her down, pulling the duvet up to her chin.

He walked to the window. He pulled out his encrypted phone.

"Silas," he said softly.

"Sir?"

"The Young construction project in Jersey. The one Julian is leading."

"Yes, sir."

"Pull the permits," Harland said. "Find the safety violations. I know they're cutting corners. Shut it down."

"That will cost them millions," Silas said.

"I want it to cost them everything," Harland said. "Make him busy. Make him suffer."

He hung up. He looked back at Aria sleeping on the floor. He knew he was crossing a line. He was supposed to be a neutral party.

But looking at her, he realized neutrality was no longer an option.