Chapter 115: The Door to the Devil

“Ethan, you couldn't wait?” Aria said, almost bumping into Ethan as she opened the restroom door.

Her heart was still hammering against her ribs from the encounter with Emily. She felt like she was walking a tightrope over a pit of fire. She had just sent her best friend into the main hall for the back door, dressed in a golden dress that was a target, and also to prove she was from a wealthy home too. And now, here was Ethan. The man she loved. The man whose father she was about to destroy.

Ethan was standing right there, leaning against the wall of the corridor, looking like a dark prince in his tuxedo. He straightened up the moment he saw her.

“You took time baby so I had to come check,” Ethan said. His voice was low and rough, filled with that possessive worry that used to make Aria feel safe. Now, it just made her feel guilty. He reached out, his large hand cupping her cheek. “I thought maybe you got lost. Or maybe you decided to run away from the boring speeches.”

Aria forced a smile onto her face. It was a mask she was becoming too good at wearing. She leaned into his touch, hating herself for how much she wanted to stay there, in the safety of his palm.

“Run away?” she teased, her voice breathless. “And leave you alone with the sharks? Never.”

She looked up at him, her eyes searching his. She needed to distract him. She needed to make him forget about the time, forget about his suspicions of the ‘maid’ he saw earlier. She needed to blind him with the only weapon she had left.

She threw her arms around his neck, pulling him down. It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was desperate. It was messy. It was a kiss that tasted of fear and goodbye. She pressed her body against his, the red silk of her dress rubbing against his wool suit. She kissed him like she was trying to breathe life into a dying man.

Ethan groaned low in his throat, surprised but willing. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against him. For a moment, just a moment, the world fell away. There was no Marcus. No Norman. No revenge. Just Ethan.

When she finally pulled back, they were both breathless. Ethan’s lips were stained with the deep red of her lipstick. It looked like a wound. It looked like she had marked him.

Ethan reached up, his thumb gently wiping the smudge from his own lip, his eyes dark with desire. “You are trying to kill me, Norah,” he whispered. “If we weren't in a public hallway...”

“But we are,” Aria whispered back, stepping out of his embrace before she crumbled. She smoothed her dress, putting the armor back on. “And your father is waiting.”

“Let's go and meet with the lion's,” Aria said with a laugh while picking up a drink from the waiter about to drop the tray of wine he carried.

She needed the wine. She didn't drink it immediately; she just held the glass like a shield. The cold crystal gave her something to focus on. Her hand was shaking, just a little bit, but she hoped the dim lighting of the hallway hid it.

Ethan fixed his tie, taking a deep breath to compose himself. He was the heir again. The businessman.

They walked back into the main hall. The noise of the party hit them like a physical wave. The laughter, the music, the clinking of glasses—it all sounded sharp and aggressive to Aria’s ears. The crowd parted for them. Everyone wanted to see Ethan Malcovich and his stunning fiancée. Aria kept her head high, her red dress blazing under the chandeliers.

But she wasn't looking at the crowd. She was looking ahead, toward the raised platform at the back of the room. The VIP section.

It was roped off with thick, red velvet cords. Huge bodyguards stood at the entrance, checking a list that didn't exist. You were either powerful enough to walk in, or you weren't.

Ethan walked straight up to the ropes. The guards stepped aside immediately, bowing their heads. They walked up the short ramp and into the shadows of the VIP lounge.

The air here was different. It smelled of expensive cigars and aged leather. The music was quieter. It was a sanctuary for the predators.

Norman Malcovich was sitting on a large leather sofa, a glass of amber liquid in his hand. He looked like a king holding court. Marcus was next to him in his wheelchair, looking small but dangerous.

Norman looked up as they approached. His eyes didn't go to his son. They went straight to Aria.

Norman, seeing Aria, smiled as he said, “The smartest project manager in Vernbuilds Corps…”

His voice was rich and smooth, like melted chocolate, but it made Aria’s skin crawl. He wasn't complimenting her brain. His eyes were undressing her. That was what she thought. He was looking at the red dress, at the slit in her skirt, at the way her chest rose and fell. He was seeing a product.

“You flatter me, Mr. Norman,” Aria said, dipping her head slightly. She played the part of the humble employee, but she kept her eyes locked on his. She had to engage him. She had to make him want to talk to her alone.

“I only speak the truth,” Norman said, taking a sip of his drink. “Youre the reason the deal went through so smoothly. You have a talent for… persuasion.”

“She is a rare find,” Marcus said, his voice raspy. “Loyal. Capable. And very eager to please the leadership.”

Ethan stood beside Aria, his arm around her waist. He heard the words, but he didn't hear the subtext. He thought they were talking about business. He thought they were praising his fiancée’s work ethic. He squeezed Aria’s side, proud of her.

“She’s the best,” Ethan agreed, unaware that he was agreeing to his own betrayal.

Aria felt like screaming. The duplicity was suffocating. She was standing between the man she loved and the man she hated, and the man she worked for was selling her to the highest bidder right in front of them, just for information.

But immediately a noise was heard from outside the VIP almost like the bodyguards there were avoiding some particular people from coming inside.

It started as a murmur, a high-pitched voice raised in complaint. Then it grew louder. Someone was shouting. Someone was demanding entry.

Aria turned her head, grateful for the distraction. At the velvet ropes, a scene was unfolding.

Hannah was a woman who wore her wealth like armor. She was dressed in purple silk that was too tight and too bright. She was pointing a manicured finger in the face of a stone-faced bodyguard. Miriam stood behind her, looking pale and furious, holding a handkerchief to her swollen lip where Aria had slapped her earlier.

“Do you know who we are?” Hannah shrieked, her voice cutting through the quiet atmosphere of the VIP section. “We are family! Get out of my way you incompetent fool! Norman! Norman, tell these dogs to let us in!”

The commotion was embarrassing. People on the main floor were turning to stare. The illusion of the VIP section’s perfect, untouchable calm was breaking.

Norman and Ethan saw them immediately as Ethan frowned immediately as he looked at his father in a way that says you invited them? Really? Was that the reason you forced me to come too?

Ethan’s body went rigid. He hated this part of his life. The drama. The entitlement. He looked at his father with accusation in his eyes. He assumed Norman had invited Miriam to ambush him, to try and force them back together.

“I didn't invite them,” Norman muttered, his face darkening with annoyance. He set his glass down on the table with a heavy thud. “Hannah is a pest that doesn't know when the season is over.”

“Well, they are making a scene,” Ethan said, his voice cold. “And Miriam looks like she’s ready to burn the place down.”

Hannah’s voice grew louder. “I will not be ignored! My daughter was assaulted! We demand to speak to Norman!”

Assaulted. The word hung in the air. Ethan looked at Aria, his protective instincts flaring. He remembered the slap in the restaurant. He knew Miriam was here to cause trouble for Norah.

But Norman sensing his son's thoughts immediately stood up saying, “I need to attend to some people inside, you can take care of them, I will be out shortly.”

Norman didn't want to deal with Hannah. He didn't want to listen to screaming women. He wanted his peace. And he wanted his "package." He smoothed his jacket, looking every inch the busy tycoon who couldn't be bothered with petty squabbles.

He looked at Ethan, giving him a command disguised as a request. “Handle it, Ethan. Get them out of here. Quietly. I have a private meeting in the back room. Do not disturb me.”

Ethan looked torn. He wanted to stay with Aria. He didn't want to leave her alone with Marcus. But the noise at the gate was getting worse, and he was the only one who could stop Hannah without causing a bigger scandal.

“Fine,” Ethan snapped. He turned to Aria, looking apologetic. “I have to deal with this. Stay here. Sit with Marcus. I’ll be back in five minutes.”

Aria nodded, her throat dry. “Go. Don't let them ruin the night.”

Norman turned and walked toward the back of the VIP section, where a heavy oak door led to the private suites. He didn't look back. He just walked with the confidence of a man who knew his desires would be met.

The moment Norman turned his back, Marcus’s expression shifted. The benevolent smile vanished. His eyes locked onto Aria’s face, hard and cold as flint. He gave a nearly imperceptible nod toward the door Norman had just walked through.

Go, his eyes said. The lion is in his den. The door is open.

“I will have to leave immediately, my health is deteriorating, I need to take care of it.”

Marcus put a hand to his chest, feigning weakness. He coughed, a dry, convincing sound. “The excitement... It is too much for an old man. I need my medication. I need to rest.”

It was the perfect exit. It cleared the board. Norman was gone. Ethan was distracted. Marcus was leaving. Aria was the only piece left on the table.

“I’ll call your driver,” Ethan said, concerned.

“No need,” Marcus waved him off. “My guards are here. You go. Handle the banshees at the gate.”

Norman nodded while he went inside with his smoke. He disappeared through the oak door, closing it with a soft click.

Marcus was helped with his bodyguard as his wheelchair was pushed out of the VIP. The large man behind the chair began to turn him around, heading for the ramp.

But he stopped where Aria was and said with a whisper while Aria brought down her ear with a smile on her face for her to hear what he was saying.

To anyone watching, it looked like a mentor saying goodbye to his protégé. A sweet moment. Aria bent down, her hair falling forward like a curtain, hiding their faces.

“My eyes are on you… prove yourself worthy.”

The words were like ice water poured into her ear. Prove yourself worthy. It wasn't just a command to succeed. It was a challenge. He was telling her that she was worthless unless she did this. Unless she walked through that door and let Norman Malcovich take whatever he wanted.

Aria pulled back, her face composed, her smile stiff but radiant.

Aria nodded with a smile. “Get home safe, Marcus,” she said loudly enough for Ethan to hear.

Marcus rolled away, leaving Aria standing alone in the center of the VIP section.

Ethan was already moving toward the entrance ropes. He looked furious. He was marching toward Hannah and Miriam like a soldier going to war.

Hannah seeing Norman never regarded her and her daughter fumed in anger especially seeing Aria and Ethan sitting together without doing something about it.

Hannah saw Norman disappear. She saw him ignore her completely. And then she saw the red dress. She saw the woman who had slapped her daughter standing there like a queen, while her own daughter stood outside like a beggar.

“Miriam, let's leave.” She had enough pride to know when she wasn't wanted.

But Miriam wasn't moving. She was staring at Aria. Her eyes were full of hate. She wanted a fight. She wanted blood.

Aria watched Ethan reach the ropes. He began speaking to them, his voice low and angry. He was using his body to block their view of the VIP section. He was protecting Aria.

He was giving her the perfect opportunity to betray him.

She didn't hesitate. She couldn't. If she stopped to think about what she was doing, she would run. She would run to Ethan and tell him everything. But she couldn't. Her father’s ghost was watching. Marcus was watching.

She turned and walked toward the back of the lounge. Her heels sank into the thick carpet, making her approach silent. She felt like a ghost herself.

The music from the party faded away. The lights got dimmer. She reached the heavy oak door that Norman had gone through.

There was a narrow corridor behind it. It was private. Exclusive. This was where the real deals happened. This was where the elite indulged in their darkest vices.

As she moved to the little space narrow way she found one door lock.

She paused. That door was solid metal. It had a keypad. She put her ear against it for a second. She heard nothing.

She moved past the locked door and saw a door that was widely open.

This was it. The door was ajar, just an inch. A slice of golden light spilled out into the dark hallway.

The room was small but incredibly luxurious. The walls were covered in red velvet. The carpet was white.

It wasn't a meeting room. It wasn't an office. It was a bedroom. A large, king-sized bed dominated the space, covered in black silk sheets. A bottle of expensive champagne sat in an ice bucket on the bedside table, sweating beads of water. Two glasses.

And Norman wasn't there yet. Or maybe he was in the en-suite bathroom.

Aria stepped inside. The door clicked shut behind her, not locked, but closed. The silence was absolute. The bright light was unforgiving. It reflected off the wine bottle.

She stared at the bed. It looked like an altar. An altar where she was expected to sacrifice herself.

Aria thought exploded to so many things as it was ringing out.

The image of Ethan’s face when he kissed her in the hallway flashed in her mind. The feel of his hand on her waist. His laugh. His love.

And then the image of her father. Broken. Ruined. Dead.

The image of Marcus. The cripple with the cold eyes. Prove yourself worthy.

She felt dirty. She felt like the red dress was burning her skin. She was trapped in a room with a bed, waiting for a man who was old enough to be her father, a man who was the devil in a tuxedo.

She walked over to the table and touched the cold glass of the wine bottle. She needed to be numb. She needed to turn off her heart.

"It's time," she whispered to the empty room. Her voice sounded strange, detached. Like it belonged to someone else.

"A revenge mission that is getting out of hand.” She smiled