Chapter 101
Aria's POV
I arranged the antique watches in Father's glass cabinet with meticulous care, my fingers lingering on a vintage Patek Philippe he'd received from some oil magnate. The birthday lunch had concluded an hour ago, but I'd been coerced into staying to help organize his gift collection—another performance of family harmony for the departing guests to witness.
The afternoon sunlight streamed through the tall windows, casting elongated shadows across the study's hardwood floor. Despite the warmth of the afternoon, a chill permeated the room. Victoria hovered nearby, her cream silk dress almost glowing in the sunlight, her practiced smile never reaching her eyes.
Aunt Frances approached, champagne flute still in hand despite the official end of the celebration. She glanced around before leaning close.
"I must say, I'm surprised about Scarlett and Ethan's engagement," she whispered, her voice slightly slurred from the Dom Pérignon. "I thought you two were quite the item before..."
I arranged my features into a mask of indifference. "Quite unexpected, wasn't it? But Scarlett is much better suited for Ethan than I ever was."
Frances's brow furrowed in confusion. "But you were the one engaged to him. How did it all shift to Scarlett so quickly? The Blake family must have been thrown for a loop."
"Perhaps you should ask Victoria about that," I suggested, my voice low and even. "She seems to have orchestrated quite the coup."
Frances's eyes widened as she glanced toward my stepmother, who was engaged in conversation with one of Father's business associates.
"You should leave soon, Frances," I added. "The performance is over for today."
As she walked away, I noticed Father declining his usual post-lunch Macallan. He'd been doing that lately—refusing his favorite whisky despite its prominence in his evening ritual for as long as I could remember. Another sign something wasn't right.
After finishing with the cabinet, I headed upstairs to retrieve my purse from my old bedroom. The room had been preserved like a museum exhibit—a shrine to my past life in this house, though Victoria had gradually been replacing my possessions with guest room amenities. As I pushed open the door, I froze.
Scarlett was there, rummaging through my dresser drawers, her hands frantically pushing aside old journals and keepsakes.
"Looking for something?" I asked coldly.
She whirled around, her face shifting from panic to fury in an instant. Her hand closed around something in the drawer.
"This is all your fault!" she shrieked, advancing toward me. "I lost my baby!"
I saw her intention before she moved—the glint of rage in her eyes, her manicured nails aimed at my face. I sidestepped quickly, catching her wrist as she lunged.
"Touch me, and you'll regret it," I said, my voice deadly calm.
The sound of heels clicking rapidly on hardwood approached, and Victoria burst into the room, her perfect façade cracking at the sight of me restraining her daughter.
"Let go of her this instant!" Victoria commanded, her voice dripping with contempt. "You've always been so brutish, Aria. No wonder Ethan preferred Scarlett."
I released Scarlett's wrist but maintained my position. "Perhaps you should teach your daughter to respect other people's privacy before judging my behavior. And next time she wants to steal something, tell her to wear gloves."
Footsteps sounded in the hallway. Victoria's expression transformed instantly, her contemptuous glare melting into a warm, maternal smile as one of Father's business associates passed by the open door.
"Girls, are you alright? William is asking for you downstairs, Scarlett darling."
"We're fine, just catching up," Victoria replied sweetly, her hand protectively on Scarlett's shoulder.
After they left, I called for Elsa.
"Please change all the bedding in this room and discard it," I instructed her. "I don't know what she's touched, but I don't want any of it staying here."
Elsa nodded, her eyes conveying silent understanding. As I moved toward the stairs, I overheard two society matrons of Victoria's age whispering by the landing.
"William should really discipline that girl more firmly," one murmured. "So sharp-tongued. Not a lady's grace about her."
I straightened my spine and continued past them without acknowledgment.
Back in my old bedroom, I asked Elsa to lock the door and change the locks.
"Only give the new key to me," I instructed. "No one else."
She nodded. "I understand, Miss Aria."
My phone vibrated in my purse. A text from Devon:
[Free tonight? Red Maple Lodge, 8pm.]
I felt a flutter in my stomach that I immediately tried to suppress. This was business—our arrangement. Nothing more.
I typed back: [Your beneficiary is always available], adding a smile emoji to lighten the tone.
Passing my father's study on my way out, I overheard a conversation that made me pause.
"It's just a temporary liquidity issue, Frances. I can repay you within two weeks." My father's voice, usually commanding, sounded almost pleading.
"William, this is the third time," Frances responded, concern evident in her tone. "My small company isn't doing well financially lately either..."
I moved away silently, processing what I'd just heard. My father was borrowing money from family members—a clear sign Harper Group was facing serious cash flow problems. I mentally reviewed his investment portfolio against recent market volatility, remembering his refused whisky. Small signs were adding up to a troubling picture.
---
Back at my Brooklyn apartment, I prepared for the evening with Devon. I chose an emerald silk slip dress that highlighted the curve of my hips, paired with black lace lingerie underneath. I had just finished applying a subtle layer of perfume to my wrists when the doorbell rang.
Checking the time, I frowned. It was only 6:30—I still had plenty of time before I needed to leave for my meeting with Devon. Opening the door revealed Sophia standing there, champagne in one hand and takeout bags from our favorite Japanese restaurant in the other.
"Emergency girls' night!" she announced, her smile not quite reaching her red-rimmed eyes.
I hesitated, glancing at the clock again. "Soph, I actually have plans tonight..."
Sophia's smile faltered as she noticed my dress and makeup. "Oh, is it... is it him again?"
Before I could answer, she pushed past me into the apartment, placing the food and champagne on the coffee table. As she turned, I saw the devastation in her eyes more clearly.
"What happened?" I asked, immediately concerned.
Sophia pulled out her phone and opened Instagram. There was her ex-boyfriend, beaming at the camera, his arm around a petite blonde woman. The caption read: [She said yes! Heading back to the States soon to celebrate with friends and family.]
"He sent me an invitation," Sophia whispered, her voice breaking. "As if we hadn't dated for three years. As if I hadn't waited for him while he was 'finding himself' in Tokyo."
"That bastard!" I exclaimed, anger surging through me. "I could make his wedding a disaster with one phone call."
Sophia shook her head, wiping at her eyes. "No, I'm going. I'm going to wear the most gorgeous dress and make him regret every second of letting me go."
I hugged her tightly, making a quick decision. "I'll be your plus-one. We'll show him exactly what he lost."
We opened the champagne, and I texted Devon that I might be running a few minutes late. After finishing the bottle, Sophia fell asleep on my couch, emotionally exhausted. I covered her with a blanket, tucked a pillow beneath her head, and left a note explaining I had an unavoidable meeting but would be back soon.
---
The drive to Red Maple Lodge took longer than expected due to unexpected Friday night traffic. By the time I pulled into the exclusive country retreat's circular driveway, I was nearly fifteen minutes late. Devon stood beside his black Aston Martin, dressed in an impeccably tailored charcoal suit that emphasized his broad shoulders. His expression was cool, almost annoyed, the shadows under his eyes more pronounced than usual.
"You're late," he stated as I approached, his eyes sweeping over my dress with barely concealed appreciation despite his clipped tone.
"My best friend had an emergency," I explained, stopping in front of him. "Her ex-boyfriend just announced his engagement. I couldn't exactly throw her out."
Devon's expression didn't soften. "I told you before, I don't like waiting. Especially outdoors."
I stepped closer, rising on tiptoe to place a light kiss on the corner of his mouth. "Don't be angry, patron. I drove ninety-five to get here."
For a moment, his eyes darkened, conflicting emotions flashing across his face. Then his arms encircled my waist, pulling me against his chest in a gesture that felt almost... desperate? His heart beat steadily beneath my palm as I steadied myself against him.
"Well, well, Devon! So this is who you've been waiting for!"