Chapter 116
Aria's POV
Richard disappeared into the night as Devon and I stood in the cool evening air of the parking lot. My heart was still racing from the confrontation and Devon's unexpected declaration that I was his girlfriend. The word hung between us like a fragile bubble that neither of us dared to touch.
"Thank you for that," I said finally, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "Your timing couldn't have been better."
Devon's expression remained neutral, but something flickered in his gray eyes—a hint of curiosity or perhaps concern.
"You were trying to tell me something at my apartment the other day," he said, his voice low. "Before Mandy interrupted."
The memory made my stomach tighten. "It wasn't important," I lied.
"I disagree." His gaze was steady, searching. "But I have a meeting I can't miss. Tomorrow night? We can talk properly then."
I nodded, surprised by his persistence. "Tomorrow works."
He checked his watch—a sleek Patek Philippe that caught the moonlight—and took a step back. "I'll text you the details."
I watched him walk to his car, his tall frame silhouetted against the parking lot lights, and felt an unexpected longing for him to turn around. He didn't. As his Bentley purred away, I realized I was smiling despite everything that had happened with Richard. Devon Kane was becoming a complication I hadn't planned for, but perhaps wasn't entirely unwelcome.
---
The next day at Stellar Impressions, Sophia and I were reviewing our quarterly numbers in my Brooklyn office. For the first time since opening, our finances were looking genuinely promising.
"We should consider bonuses for the team," I suggested, circling a figure on the spreadsheet. "They've all been working overtime to make the Kane campaign a success."
Sophia smiled. "Agreed. Maybe we could also—"
The office door burst open with such force that the glass rattled. My father strode in, his face a thundercloud. My receptionist trailed helplessly behind him.
"I'm sorry, Aria! He wouldn't wait—"
"It's okay, Melissa," I said calmly, though my pulse had quickened. I turned to Sophia. "Could you give us a minute? And maybe take everyone for an early lunch?"
Sophia nodded, shooting my father a wary glance before slipping out.
"What the hell did you say to Richard Brown?" My father's voice was controlled but venomous. "Do you have any idea what you've done? That merger could have saved—"
"Closed the door, please," I interrupted, gesturing to the hallway where my employees were pretending not to listen.
He slammed it shut, the sound like a gunshot in the quiet office.
"So," I said, leaning against my desk and crossing my arms. "What price were you planning to sell me for this time?"
My father's face registered shock at my directness. "What are you talking about?"
I laughed, a cold sound that surprised even me. "I know exactly what you and Brown were discussing. Just like I know what you tried to arrange with Ethan and the Blakes." My voice dropped. "How much was my marriage to Richard worth? What was Harper Group getting in return?"
"You have no idea what you're talking about," he sputtered, his composure cracking. "This is about family. About securing our future."
"Family?" The word tasted bitter. "You haven't treated me like family since Mom died. I've been a commodity to you—something to trade for business advantages."
"That's not true—"
"It is, and we both know it." I straightened, meeting his gaze directly. "But here's what you need to understand, William." Using his first name felt like crossing a line, but I was beyond caring. "I stopped being your daughter in my heart years ago. The only reason I've maintained any connection is because of Mom's memory."
His face flushed dark red. "You ungrateful—"
"I'm not finished," I cut in, my voice steady despite the trembling in my hands. "Stay away from me, from my business, and from my life. If you try to interfere again, I'll make sure everyone in your precious social circle knows exactly what kind of father and husband you really are."
He stared at me, momentarily speechless, then regained his composure. "You'll regret this, Aria. Without my connections, your little company won't survive a year."
"Watch me," I replied simply.
He turned and stormed out, leaving a silence so profound it seemed to echo. With him went the last threads of what had once been a father-daughter relationship. I should have felt grief, but instead, I felt only relief—like I'd finally excised a long-festering wound.
---
Sophia returned ten minutes later, finding me staring out the window at the Brooklyn skyline.
"That bad?" she asked, placing a coffee on my desk.
"Worse." I gave her a brief rundown of the confrontation, omitting only the depth of pain behind my words.
"Are you okay?" Her concern was genuine, her eyes searching my face.
I nodded. "Actually, I feel lighter. Like I've finally put down something I've been carrying for years."
She squeezed my hand. "You should take a break. Go to Europe for a couple of weeks. The team can handle things."
"I can't," I smiled, appreciating her suggestion. "But you should. You've been working nonstop since your mom's surgery."
"Not until I've paid off the medical bills," she insisted. "Besides, with Kane Technologies as a client, we need all hands on deck."
I was about to respond when my phone buzzed with a message from Jeremy. [Speaking of projects, the Hamptons house designs are ready. I'm meeting him at that new place in SoHo in an hour.]
---
Jeremy was already waiting when I arrived at the upscale café, his architectural renderings spread across the marble tabletop. He stood as I approached, his expression brightening.
"These look amazing," I said, examining the detailed sketches of my beach house renovation. The design preserved the home's original character while adding modern touches that would have made my mother smile.
"I tried to keep the spirit of the place intact," Jeremy explained, pointing to specific features. "The wraparound porch, the bay windows... but I've updated the kitchen and master bath to something more contemporary."
I was about to ask about timeline when my phone rang—the property management company for the Hamptons house.
"Ms. Harper? This is Andrew from Coastal Properties. There's a situation at your beach house that requires immediate attention."
"What kind of situation?" I asked, feeling a knot form in my stomach.
"A man showed up claiming you owe him three million dollars. He's threatening to block any renovation work. Says he has legal grounds to prevent you from doing anything to the property until the debt is settled."
I felt the blood drain from my face. "That's absurd. I don't have any such debt."
"That's what I told him, but he seems... determined. He left his card and said he'll be back tomorrow with papers." Andrew paused. "Ms. Harper, he seemed to know a lot about the property history."
Jeremy was watching me with concern as I ended the call.
"I need to go," I said, gathering my things. "Someone's trying to block the renovation."