Chapter 69
Aria’s POV
The slap came so fast I didn't see it coming. My head snapped to the side, the impact sending fresh pain lancing through my already injured forehead.
In the corner of the room, barely visible in the shadows, stood Victoria. A small, satisfied smile played at the corners of her perfectly painted lips.
I straightened slowly, tasting blood where I'd bitten my cheek. Without another word, I turned and left, my dignity the only thing I refused to let them take from me.
On the grand staircase, I encountered Scarlett. She blocked my path, her white silk nightgown making her look like a ghost in the dimly lit hallway.
"Trouble in paradise?" she asked, triumph lacing her voice despite the worry in her eyes.
I looked through her as if she were made of air and stepped around her without acknowledgment. From the corner of my eye, I saw her expression shift from smug satisfaction to wounded rage.
Back in my childhood bedroom, I locked the door and leaned against it, closing my eyes as I fought to steady my breathing. Everything was spiraling out of control—my engagement, my family, whatever this thing with Devon was.
A soft knock interrupted my thoughts.
"Ms. Harper?" Elsa's gentle voice came through the door. "I brought some ice for your... injuries."
I let her in, grateful for the older woman's quiet competence. Elsa had been the Harper household's housekeeper since I was a child. She'd been kinder to me than my own father these past four years.
"Thank you," I said, sitting on the edge of the bed as she gently applied cream to the red mark on my cheek.
"Your father has a temper," she said softly. "Always has. But striking you—that's new."
"Victoria's influence," I replied. "She's poisoned him against me."
Elsa's eyes darted to the door, even though it was closed. "Be careful, Miss. The walls have ears in this house."
"I know." I touched the bandage on my forehead. "Elsa... have you noticed anything unusual about Scarlett lately?"
The housekeeper's hands stilled for a fraction of a second. "What do you mean?"
"Changes in her habits. Her health."
Elsa looked conflicted. Then, lowering her voice to barely above a whisper: "She's missed her monthly for about two months now. And last week, she visited a women's clinic. OB-GYN department."
My heart raced, but I kept my expression neutral. "I see."
"Mrs. Victoria would be devastated if there was a scandal," Elsa continued. "With the wedding and all the society attention..."
"I'm sure there's a perfectly innocent explanation," I said with calculated mildness. "Perhaps she's planning some big surprise for us all."
After Elsa left, I pulled out my phone and stared at it for a long moment. Then I typed a message to Devon:
We need to talk. About everything.
I hit send and waited, watching as the message status changed from "Delivered" to "Read."
No reply came.
Morning sunlight streamed through the Harper mansion's dining room windows, highlighting the medical tape on my forehead. I touched it gingerly, wincing as my fingers brushed against the tender skin. The previous night's confrontation with my father had left more than emotional wounds.
"Good morning, darling!" Victoria's voice dripped with artificial sweetness as she entered the breakfast room. "Your forehead—what happened? I had the chef prepare avocado toast, your favorite."
I felt my jaw clench involuntarily at her performance. Behind her concerned expression, I could see the satisfaction in her eyes. I walked past her without acknowledgment, making my way to the coffee machine, my shoulders deliberately stiff. The rich aroma of freshly ground beans provided a momentary escape from the tension filling the room.
My father strode in, his eyes narrowing when he saw Victoria hovering near me with a concerned expression plastered on her perfectly made-up face.
"Victoria, don't waste your energy," he said with a cold laugh. "Caring for her is less productive than caring for stray cats in Central Park. At least cats show gratitude."
The words pierced me deeply, making my chest constrict. In my father's eyes, I'm worth less than a stray cat. I maintained my composure, taking a small sip of the scalding black coffee, letting the bitter liquid burn my tongue. The physical discomfort was almost welcome, distracting me from the emotional pain.
---
Three hours later at Stellar Impressions, I sat in our conference room, staring blankly at the presentation Sofia was enthusiastically delivering to our team. My thoughts kept drifting back to my father's words, making it impossible to focus.
"The visual identity system creates immediate brand recognition while maintaining flexibility across platforms," Sofia explained, gesturing to the mockups displayed on the screen.
My phone vibrated in my pocket. Ryan Winters. I excused myself and stepped into the hallway, my heart racing with anticipation.
"Your father is selling fifteen percent of Harper Group to my father's company," Ryan said without preamble. "They're meeting at The Capital Grille in an hour."
My blood ran cold, a chill spreading through my body. My fingers tightened around the phone until my knuckles turned white. "What? Why would he sell that much?"
"Digital media transition costs. He's desperate for capital," Ryan explained. "My father seemed surprised by the urgency."
"That fifteen percent includes my mother's shares," I said, my voice rising, throat tightening with panic. "He can't sell what's rightfully mine!"
I hung up and burst back into the conference room, grabbing my purse, my movements frantic. "Emergency. I need to go."
Sofia shot me a concerned look, but I was already halfway to the elevator, my breath coming in short gasps. Outside, the sky had darkened ominously, and rain began pouring down in sheets just as I stepped onto the sidewalk. The cold drops hit my skin like tiny needles, but I barely noticed. After several futile attempts to hail a taxi, I finally spotted one approaching and practically threw myself in its path, desperation overriding caution.
"The Capital Grille, Midtown. There's an extra fifty if you can get me there in fifteen minutes."
---
By the time I reached the restaurant, I was soaked. Rain dripped from my hair onto my shoulders, my blouse clung uncomfortably to my skin. I shivered, partly from cold, partly from nervous energy as I approached the host stand.
"I need to see William Harper. It's urgent," I said, water pooling around my stilettos. I tried to sound authoritative despite my disheveled appearance.
The maître d' eyed me with practiced politeness. "I'm afraid Mr. Harper requested no interruptions, Ms. Harper. Even for family."
I felt frustration rise in my chest, my hands curling into tight fists. I reached for my phone to call Ryan, only to find it dead. Perfect timing. As I contemplated my next move, heart sinking with defeat, a sleek black Bentley pulled up outside.
My pulse quickened instantly when Devon stepped out, an umbrella unfurling above his tall frame. His custom suit remained impeccable despite the weather, a stark contrast to my bedraggled state. I couldn't help but notice how the gray fabric accentuated his broad shoulders.
His eyes found mine immediately, lingering on the medical tape across my forehead before traveling down to take in my rain-soaked appearance. Something flashed in his gaze, his pupils dilating slightly before his expression hardened, quickly masked by cool detachment. That momentary softness made my heart skip a beat.
I moved toward him with purpose, swallowing my pride. "Mr. Kane, I need your help."