Chapter 238
Aria's POV
My heels clicked against the polished concrete floor, echoing in the silence. The dim lighting cast long shadows against the industrial walls, and I suppressed a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold.
"Are you sure you're ready for this?" Devon asked, his voice low as we approached the heavy metal door.
I nodded, steeling myself. "I've waited four years to know what happened to my mother."
He studied my face for a moment before pressing his palm against a scanner. The door slid open with a soft hiss, revealing a sparse room dominated by a metal table. Victoria Harper sat there, her wrists secured to the table with thick restraints. Her designer blouse was wrinkled and stained, her makeup smudged around her eyes. Despite her disheveled appearance, she maintained that haughty lift of her chin I'd come to despise.
"You ungrateful little bitch," she spat when she saw me, struggling against her restraints. "Does your father know what you're doing?"
I didn't respond immediately. Instead, I pulled out my phone, opened the voice recorder app, and placed it on the table between us. The red light blinked steadily, documenting everything.
"Why did you kill my mother?" I asked, my voice eerily calm even to my own ears.
Victoria's eyes darted to Devon, who stood silently behind me, and then to Lucas positioned by the door, scissors gleaming in his hand. She forced a laugh, but it sounded hollow in the concrete room.
"You've lost your mind. I didn't—"
"I have two options for you, Victoria," I interrupted, leaning forward. "Either you tell me the truth now, or I ensure Scarlett spends the next twenty years in prison for attempted human trafficking. Or worse."
Her face paled. "You wouldn't."
"Try me."
Victoria's eyes narrowed, calculating. She glanced at Devon again, as if hoping for intervention, but his expression remained impassive. Finally, she slumped slightly in her chair.
"It wasn't supposed to happen like that," she began, her voice suddenly small. "It was... it was an accident, in a way."
"Poisoning someone for months is hardly an accident," I replied coldly.
Victoria flinched. "How did you—"
"The rare metal salts in her tea. They built up in her system gradually. Untraceable in small doses, fatal over time." My hand trembled slightly, and I pressed it flat against the table. "Now talk."
She took a shuddering breath. "I was just your mother's personal assistant at first. That's all. William... he noticed me. Paid attention to me when your mother was busy with her charity work and art curations."
I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood. The thought of my father pursuing Victoria while my mother was still alive made me sick.
"William and Elizabeth's marriage was already falling apart," Victoria continued, her voice steadier now. "He needed someone who understood him. Someone who supported his ambitions instead of constantly challenging him like she did."
"So you decided to eliminate the competition?" My voice was ice.
Victoria's eyes flashed. "It wasn't like that. Not at first. I just... I started adding small amounts to her tea. Just enough to make her feel unwell. To make her seem unstable, emotional. William was already pulling away from her. I just... accelerated things."
"You murdered my mother for a promotion and a wedding ring," I said flatly.
"You don't understand what it's like to come from nothing!" Victoria suddenly burst out, yanking against her restraints. "To have everyone look down on you! Elizabeth had everything handed to her—the family name, the connections, the respect. I had to fight for every scrap!"
I stared at her, disgust churning in my stomach. "Where did you get the metal salts? They're tightly regulated, especially the compound you used."
Victoria's expression changed, a flicker of something like fear crossing her face before she composed herself. "I have my resources."
"No," I pressed, sensing hesitation. "Someone with your background wouldn't have access to those kinds of chemicals. Who gave them to you?"
She licked her lips nervously. "That's not important."
"Tell me!"
Victoria's eyes narrowed, something almost like triumph flickering in them. "Where do you think I got such rare heavy metals? I had no connections, no way to access something like that." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "But your father did."
The room tilted around me. I gripped the edge of the table to steady myself, bile rising in my throat. "You're lying."
"Am I?" Victoria's smile was thin, victorious. "Why don't you ask him who supplied the special tea blend I gave your mother? Ask him about the 'herbal supplements' he insisted would help with her stress."
I stumbled backward, nearly colliding with Devon. My father—the man who had held my hand at my mother's funeral, who had wept openly as her casket was lowered into the ground—had helped poison her?
"We're done here," Devon's voice came from somewhere far away.
I turned and fled the room, barely aware of where I was going. I found myself in an adjacent bathroom, slamming the door behind me. My hands shook violently as I turned on the cold water, splashing it over my face without regard for my makeup. I plunged my whole face under the stream, holding my breath until my lungs burned.
When I finally looked up, water dripping from my chin, the woman in the mirror was a stranger. Her eyes were wild, her mascara running in dark rivulets down her cheeks. But the shape of her eyes, the curve of her lips—they were my mother's. Elizabeth Harper's features stared back at me from my own face.
A sob tore from my throat, followed by another. I gripped the edges of the sink, my knuckles turning white as the grief I'd kept carefully contained for four years finally broke free. My legs gave way, and I slid down to the cold tile floor, hugging my knees to my chest.
I don't know how long I sat there before the door opened. Devon stepped inside, closing it quietly behind him. Without a word, he lowered himself to the floor beside me, his expensive suit touching the wet tiles.
"He helped kill her," I whispered, my voice breaking. "My own father... how could he do that to her? To my mother..." The sobs came harder now, shaking my entire body.
Devon reached out, pulling me against his chest. I should have resisted—should have maintained some dignity—but I was too shattered to care. I clung to his shirt, soaking it with tears and water from my face.
"I've got you," he murmured, his hand stroking my back.
The sobs gradually subsided, but then something strange happened. As I tried to catch my breath, I hiccupped. Then again. And again. Mortified, I tried to pull away, but Devon held me firmly.
"I'm sorry," I managed between hiccups. "I can't—'hic'—stop."
A ghost of a smile touched Devon's lips. "I know how to cure hiccups."
Before I could ask what he meant, he gently tilted my chin up and pressed his lips to mine. The kiss was different from our others—not demanding or possessive, but tender. Gentle. When he finally pulled away, I realized the hiccups had stopped.
"Kane family remedy," he said softly, his thumb brushing away a lingering tear. "One of a kind, exclusively for Ms. Harper."
A knock at the door broke the moment. "Sir," Lucas called. "We have a situation. The subject is unconscious."