Chapter 125
Aria's POV
Connor leaned against the elevator doorframe, effectively blocking my exit. His eyes—similar to Devon's in color but lacking the warmth—traveled down my body with undisguised interest. My pulse quickened as I recognized the danger in his stance.
"So you're the latest distraction," he said, flipping a gold coin between his fingers. His voice carried a hint of mockery. "My brother always did have excellent taste in... temporary companions."
I kept my expression neutral, though my heart hammered against my ribs. "Mr. Kane, I need to leave."
Connor's smile widened, revealing perfectly whitened teeth. "Oh, we're being formal? Interesting, considering what you were probably doing with Devon last night." He stepped closer, invading my personal space. The cologne he wore was too strong, almost suffocating. "You know, Devon and I have shared interests before. Perhaps when he's done with you..."
"I'm not interested," I said coldly, fighting to keep my voice steady. "Please move."
His smile vanished instantly. The transformation was terrifying—playful arrogance replaced by cold menace in a heartbeat. With surprising speed, he maneuvered me back into the hallway, away from the elevator. I retreated, maintaining distance between us, my back pressed against the wall.
"Pretty girls like you always say no at first," he said, his voice dropping an octave. "It's part of the game." He pulled out his phone, tapping the screen before turning it toward me. "Speaking of games—this is you at Eden Club, isn't it? In that lovely little black lace number?"
My blood froze. On his screen was a video of me from last night, looking vulnerable and exposed in the outfit Devon had selected. I discreetly activated the emergency contact function on my phone, pressing the side button three times while maintaining eye contact with Connor. My only hope was that Devon would see it in time.
"Connor," I said, trying to sound reasonable while watching for any sudden movements, "as a Kane family member, you understand the importance of reputation. I don't think—"
"Don't lecture me about the family name," he snarled, suddenly grabbing my wrist with bruising force. His fingers slid toward the buttons of my blouse, rough and demanding. "I know exactly how to handle stubborn women who think too highly of themselves. Devon might treat you like you're special, but we both know what you really are."
Before I could respond, he ripped my blouse open with a violent jerk and slapped me hard across the face. The sting brought tears to my eyes, but also triggered something primal—a surge of adrenaline and rage. I grabbed a crystal paperweight from the decorative console table and smashed it against his forehead with all my strength.
Connor stumbled backward, blood trickling down his face, shock momentarily replacing his arrogance. "You fucking bitch!" he growled, rage contorting his features as he lunged toward me. "I'll make you regret that!"
I braced myself, the paperweight still clutched in my hand, knuckles white. My breathing came in short gasps as I prepared to defend myself again. The hallway suddenly felt narrower, the walls closing in.
Then the elevator doors slid open with a soft chime. Devon stepped out, his posture relaxed but his eyes instantly assessing the situation. His gaze took in my torn blouse, the reddening mark on my cheek, Connor's bleeding forehead, and the paperweight in my hand. His expression remained eerily calm, but his eyes darkened with controlled fury.
"What an unexpected visit, brother," Devon said, his voice like ice. "I don't recall inviting you."
I quickly moved behind Devon, clutching my torn blouse closed. The relief I felt at his appearance was immediate and overwhelming. I hated myself for that feeling of dependency, but in that moment, Devon represented safety.
Connor pressed his hand against his bleeding forehead, glaring at both of us. "This whore attacked me," he spat, blood dripping between his fingers.
Devon's face remained impassive, but I noticed his jaw tighten slightly—the only visible sign of his anger. He pressed the intercom button without looking away from Connor. "Marcus, arrange for a doctor. And notify security." He then turned to me, his eyes briefly softening before returning to their usual detached state. "Go with Marcus when he arrives."
"The bitch needs to pay for what she did," Connor insisted, stepping forward to block my path. "Look what she did to my face!"
Devon moved slightly, placing himself more firmly between Connor and me. His voice dropped to a whisper, so quiet I barely heard it. "Grandfather warned you. One more scandal and your shares in Kane Technology are gone." The threat hung in the air between them. "Think carefully about your next move, Connor."
Connor's face contorted with rage, but he stepped back, recognizing the real power dynamic between them. "Devon, you know she's just using you. They always do."
"Leave. Now." Devon's command was absolute, the authority in his voice unmistakable.
I hesitated, looking at Devon. His expression revealed nothing, but something flickered in his eyes when he glanced at me—concern, perhaps? Or just calculation? I couldn't tell, and that uncertainty made my stomach twist. Finally, I moved toward the elevator where Marcus now waited, his professional demeanor firmly in place despite the obvious tension.
"Are you alright, Ms. Harper?" Marcus asked as we descended. His voice was kind but detached. "Connor has always been... difficult. Don't take it personally. This isn't the first time he's caused trouble."
"I'm fine," I lied, buttoning what remained of my torn blouse with trembling fingers. So the Kane family had its own dysfunction. The revelation shouldn't have surprised me, yet somehow it did. I wondered what other secrets lurked behind Devon's controlled exterior.
---
When I reached my office at Stellar Impressions in Brooklyn, I froze in the doorway. The entire space had been ransacked—shattered glass everywhere, design mockups torn to pieces, computers smashed, and vulgar words spray-painted on the walls. The creative space I'd built from nothing, that represented all my hard work and independence, reduced to rubble.
White-hot fury surged through me, replacing the lingering fear from my encounter with Connor. This was personal. This was deliberate.
Sophia rushed to my side, her face pale with shock. "They came at 4 AM. Three masked men." She pulled up security footage on her tablet, hands shaking slightly. "Look at how the leader moves, that swagger..."
I recognized it immediately, my jaw clenching. "The same men from my Hamptons beach house." My stomach tightened with rage. "He really came to collect that debt."
"That's not all," Sophia said quietly, her voice dropping further. "The Bergmann account canceled their contract this morning. Three million dollars, gone." She swallowed hard. "They said they're 'concerned about associating with our brand image right now.' Their exact words."
"Victoria," I whispered, the name tasting bitter on my tongue. I could see the pieces connecting—the beach house, the forged debt, now this. "She's behind this, just like the beach house incident."
I surveyed the destruction, my anger crystallizing into cold determination. The computers could be replaced, the glass repaired, the walls repainted. But the message was clear—this wasn't just about intimidation anymore. This was full-scale warfare against everything I'd built, everything I was.
I stepped carefully through the wreckage, picking up a torn design board—hours of work destroyed in seconds. "Start documenting everything for insurance," I told Sophia, my voice steadier than I expected. "And call our lawyer. This goes beyond harassment."
The tension in the Harper family mansion was suffocating as I confronted Victoria. William was away on business, and Elsa had informed me in hushed tones that Victoria had been making calls all morning, looking unusually pleased with herself.
"Ah, Aria, you're finally home," Victoria said with faux warmth when she saw me. Her smile never reached her eyes, which remained cold and calculating.
Without preamble, I pulled out the forged $2,000,000 debt note Rex had shown me at the beach house—now supposedly $3,000,000 with interest. I slapped it onto the marble counter between us.
"Care to explain this?" I asked, my voice steady despite the rage bubbling beneath my surface.