Page 123 of Rescuing Aria
The wax softens under steady heat, shifting from solid to liquid in slow surrender. Like truth easing free from behind carefully built walls. Like resilience forged in the quiet aftermath of being broken.
I’ll call it “Truth.” A personal talisman against future deception. A reminder that light reveals what darkness conceals.
As I work, the events of recent weeks take on a new perspective. Marcus’s death. Wolfe’s revelations. The destruction of everything I thought I knew about my family, my history, my identity.
Painful, yes. Devastating in many ways. But also liberating. The lies that shaped my life have burned away, leaving only truth in their wake—a painful truth, but mine to face, accept, and build upon.
The wax reaches the perfect temperature. I add fragrance oils in precise measurements, stirring with intention. Ember would be so proud. The scent rises—complex, multifaceted, initially sharp but warming to something rich and grounding.
Like truth itself.
Footsteps announce Jon’s arrival. I don’t look up from my work, knowing he’ll understand this moment of creation isn’t to be interrupted. He moves quietly into the workshop, taking a seat at the preparation table, watching without intruding.
When the wax and fragrance have properly bonded, I pour it into waiting vessels—clear glass that will allow the light to shine through unfiltered. No decoration, no embellishment. Just pure illumination.
Only when the last container is filled do I turn to Jon, finding his eyes already on me, patient and present.
“Truth,” I say simply, gesturing to the cooling candles.
“It suits you.” He nods, understanding without further explanation.
Three words that contain multitudes. That acknowledges the journey I’ve undertaken, the strength I’ve discovered, the light I’ve found amid darkness.
“The Journal called.” I move to wash my hands, practical matters reasserting themselves. “Others will follow.”
“Guardian HRS is preparing a strategy.” Jon’s voice carries the steady certainty I’ve come to rely on. “Legal is reviewing options. Forest wants to meet tomorrow to discuss the approach. You are not alone in this. We’re here to support you through it.”
The operational language comforts rather than alienates. Concrete steps. Clear parameters. A path forward through complicated terrain.
“Whatever happens with Marcus’s legacy,” I say, drying my hands on a workshop towel, “I want the truth protected. Not hidden.”
“I need you to hear this.” Jon studies me, gauging my certainty. Then he exhales slowly and measuredly. “If we expose everything now, we handcuff Guardian HRS. Tip our hand. We lose access, leverage, and the ability to track who else was involved.”
“You’re saying we lie.” My spine straightens.
“I’m saying we play the long game.” He closes the distance between us, voice low but firm. “If you want to disrupt the operation—if you want Guardian HRS to take down the entire network—you may have to live with some half-truths a little longer. Not forever. Just until it’s safe to burn it all down.”
I search his eyes. No manipulation there. Just hard-earned reality. Strategy, not avoidance.
“I know.” I meet his gaze steadily. “But I’m done living with lies. Done protecting reputations at the expense of truth.”
“You need to tell us what you want. We can tell the truth, or we can save lives—on our terms. With preparation. And no compromise where it counts.”
He doesn’t say the rest. That going public now would set off alarms. Drive Marcus’s associates into hiding. Shatter Guardian HRS’s chances of exposing the whole network. It’s a white lie for a greater good, and I get it even if it tastes like ash.
I’m not alone in this. Not facing Marcus’s twisted legacy or Wolfe’s murky truths without backup. Jon is beside me. Guardian HRS at my back. My chosen family holds the line so I don’t have to carry it alone.
“I’m not afraid.” The words come out before I fully realize them. But they’re true. “Not of what people will say. Not of Marcus’s legacy burning. Not of who I’ll be without the Holbrook name and fortune.”
I pause, breath tight with the weight of what I do fear.
“But I need it to stop. The suffering. The silence. The damage that keeps spreading.”
Jon watches me, steady and unflinching.
“Whatever Guardian HRS needs to make that happen, I’m in. Even if it means sitting with half-truths a little longer. As long as we take the whole thing down in the end.”
“We will.” His hand brushes mine—solid, grounding. “And for what it’s worth, you’re so much more than any name or fortune could encompass.”
