Chapter 109

Chapter 109
Aria’s POV
The car felt suffocating. Every breath seemed to catch in my throat as I sat behind the wheel, hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles had gone white.
I was heartbroken. But I didn't fully understand why the pain cut so deep.
Maybe it was because Jessica had lost the kidney transplant opportunity. Maybe it was because I'd believed I would conceive through IVF, maintaining some distance from him, only to discover I'd have to sleep with him after all. But what devastated me most was the realization that I'd fallen for him. I'd thought he was changing, that there might be something real between us. Instead, I'd discovered he'd been deceiving me all along.
How could I have been so naive? How could I have mistaken manipulation for affection, control for care?
I started the engine with shaking hands. There was only one place I could go, one person who would understand without judgment. Sofia.
I hadn't spoken to Sofia in months—not since Damian had tightened his control over every aspect of my life. He'd changed my contact information early in our arrangement, monitoring my communications, restricting my movements. He'd isolated me so completely that I'd started to forget what real friendship felt like.
But recently, things had seemed different. I'd thought he was giving me more freedom, more autonomy. I'd believed it was because he was learning to trust me, maybe even because he cared enough to want me to be happy. What a fool I'd been. Even his seeming kindness had probably been calculated, another tool in his arsenal of control.
But regardless, I was free now. At least for this moment, I could go where I wanted, see who I chose. And I desperately needed to see Sofia. I missed her with an ache that had been growing stronger every day of my captivity.
I drove to her apartment first, but she wasn't there. Of course—at this time of day, she'd be at the bar, getting ready for her shift. I knew her schedule by heart, even after all this time apart. Some things didn't change, even when everything else fell apart.
I arrived at the bar. Through the windows, I could see the familiar chaos of pre-shift preparation—servers setting up tables, bartenders stocking bottles, the controlled frenzy that preceded another night of performance.
I found Sofia in the back, near the employee entrance, but she wasn't alone. A man in an expensive suit had cornered her against the brick wall, his posture aggressive, predatory. Even from a distance, I could see Sofia's discomfort, the way she pressed herself back against the wall as if she could disappear into it.
"—told you before, sweetheart. You're wasting your talents in this dump. I can offer you something much better. Much more... personal."
"I'm not interested," Sofia's voice was steady but strained. "Please leave me alone."
"Come on, don't be shy. A girl like you, working in a place like this—you must be looking for a better arrangement. I can be very generous to girls who know how to appreciate generosity."
My emotional state was too raw, too volatile. Seeing Sofia—my Sofia, who had always been there for me, who had helped me survive the darkest moments of my life—being harassed by some entitled predator was the last straw. All the rage I'd been holding back, all the fury I couldn't direct at Damian, found a perfect target.
I grabbed the first thing I saw—a half-full water pitcher from a nearby table—and marched over to them.
"She said she's not interested," I announced, and dumped the entire contents over the man's head.
He sputtered, water streaming down his face and soaking his undoubtedly expensive shirt. "What the hell—"
"Leave. Now." My voice was deadly calm, surprising even myself with its authority. "Before I find something less pleasant than water."
He looked between Sofia and me, clearly weighing his options. Something in my expression must have convinced him I wasn't bluffing, because he cursed under his breath and stalked away, muttering threats about ruining the bar's reputation.
"Aria!" Sofia's face transformed with pure joy, her earlier distress forgotten in the miracle of my unexpected appearance. She threw her arms around me in a fierce hug that smelled like cheap perfume and cigarettes and home. "I can't believe you're here. I've been trying to reach you for months!"
"I know," I whispered against her shoulder, finally letting myself cry. "I know, I'm sorry. He changed my number, controlled everything. I wanted to call you so many times—"
"I almost went to that estate of his," she said, pulling back to study my face with worried eyes. "I was so desperate to see if you were okay. But the security was impossible. They wouldn't even let me through the gates. I thought—" Her voice cracked. "I thought maybe you'd forgotten about me. That you'd moved on to your new rich life."
"Never," I said fiercely. "Never, Sofia. You're my family. You've always been my family."
The relief on her face was heartbreaking. How long had she been wondering if I'd abandoned her? How many nights had she worried that I'd chosen wealth and comfort over our friendship?
"Come on," she said, linking her arm through mine. "My shift doesn't start for another hour. Let's get out of here and catch up properly. I know a place."
The roadside bar Sofia led me to was exactly the kind of place we used to frequent when we were younger and broker—dim lighting, sticky floors, prices that reflected the clientele's limited budgets. But it felt like sanctuary after months of pristine luxury and calculated perfection.
We found a corner table that offered some privacy and ordered the cheapest drinks on the menu. Sofia raised her glass in a mock toast.
"To surviving another day in this impossible world," she said.
"To friends who don't give up on you," I countered, clinking my glass against hers.
The alcohol hit my empty stomach hard, loosening my tongue and lowering my defenses. Soon I was telling Sofia everything—about the contract, about Damian's manipulation, about Jessica's blocked transplant, about the IVF failure and what it meant for my future.
"That bastard," Sofia slurred, already on her third drink. "I knew there was something wrong about that whole arrangement. Men like him don't help people out of the goodness of their hearts. There's always a price."
"I was such an idiot," I said, the room beginning to spin pleasantly around the edges. "I actually started to think he cared about me. That maybe underneath all the control and manipulation, there was something real."
"You're not an idiot. You're human. And humans want to believe the best in people, even when all the evidence points the other way." Sofia's voice carried the wisdom of someone who'd been disappointed by too many men in too many ways. "But now you know the truth. Now you can make decisions based on reality instead of fantasy."
We drank more, the conversation meandering through old memories, shared grievances, and increasingly elaborate plans for my escape from Damian's control. The alcohol made everything seem possible—we'd run away together, start over in another country, build lives where no one could use our desperation against us.
"You know what you need?" Sofia asked, her eyes lighting up with mischievous inspiration. "You need to remember what it feels like to be desired by someone who isn't trying to own you."
I looked around the bar with new awareness. The clientele was rough around the edges but honest in their appreciation, so different from the calculated charm of Damian's world. And there, on a small raised platform near the back, I noticed the setup for some kind of performance.
"What's happening over there?"
Sofia grinned wickedly. "Friday night entertainment. They bring in dancers—the kind who specialize in making women forget their troubles for a while."
As if on cue, music started playing, and three men took the stage. They were everything Damian wasn't—rough, working-class, uncomplicated in their masculinity. Their routine was playful, flirtatious, designed to entertain rather than intimidate.
"See?" Sofia nudged me, her voice loud enough to carry over the music. "There are so many better men in this world than that monster you've been living with. Men who would treat you like a goddess instead of a prisoner."
The alcohol and the atmosphere and months of repressed emotion combined into something reckless and liberating. For the first time in forever, I felt truly free to look, to appreciate, to remember what it was like to be a woman with choices instead of a commodity with conditions.
"When I finally get away from him," I declared, my voice carrying more conviction than I'd felt in months, "when I get the money and secure Jessica's future, I'm going to date so many different men. I'm going to remember what it's like to have relationships built on mutual attraction instead of financial leverage."
Sofia raised her glass enthusiastically. "That's my girl! Take back your power! And you know what they say—feelings can lie, but the body doesn't lie. Trust your instincts instead of his pretty words."
I was about to respond, caught up in the moment of rebellious joy, when I felt a familiar chill run down my spine. The sensation of being watched, of predatory attention focused on me with laser intensity.
I turned slowly, already knowing what I would find but hoping I was wrong.
Damian stood behind me, perfectly still in his expensive suit, looking completely out of place among the working-class crowd.