Chapter 141
Devon's POV
The look that passed between my parents spoke volumes about battles fought behind closed doors. Father's hand, still gripping the rattan cane, trembled slightly as he looked at the wounds on my back.
"I'll take Devon to rest now," my mother said with forced calmness, her eyes never leaving Father's face. "His injury needs attention."
Father lowered the cane, his mouth a tight line of disapproval. "This isn't over," he warned.
"It never is," I replied coldly, buttoning my shirt as I turned to follow my mother.
I walked silently beside my mother through the corridors of the Kane family estate, the tension between us thick enough to cut with a knife. The weight of years of unspoken grievances hung in the air.
"Why did you come here?" I asked coldly, keeping my gaze forward as we moved away from my father's study.
Eleanor Kane smoothed her silk blouse, her perfectly manicured hands betraying a slight tremor. "I heard about Connor's room. The fire." She paused, choosing her words carefully. "I was concerned."
"Concerned about the property damage? Or concerned I might finally give Connor what he deserves?" I kept my voice detached, clinical.
"Devon." Her voice held that familiar note of reproach. "He's your brother."
"By blood only," I replied, stopping at the grand staircase. "If there's nothing else, I need to return to the hospital."
She reached toward my arm but stopped short of touching me. Old habits die hard. "Are you... all right?"
I offered her the smile I reserved for board meetings and hostile takeovers. "Never better."
Without waiting for a response, I descended the stairs, spotting Marcus standing by the entrance. His expression was carefully neutral, but I knew him well enough to recognize the concern in his eyes.
"I told you I'd handle it," I said quietly as I approached.
Marcus nodded once. "Sir, I was concerned about your injury. I thought Mrs. Kane might—"
"Don't ever do that again," I cut him off, my voice low and even. "My family is not your concern."
He stiffened, but nodded. "Understood, sir."
In the car, I leaned back against the leather seat, allowing myself a moment of weakness as pain radiated from my abdomen. The bullet wound throbbed with each heartbeat, a steady reminder of Connor's betrayal. But I'd survived worse. Much worse.
---
When I returned to the hospital room, Aria was just stirring on the small couch where she'd fallen asleep waiting for me. Her hair was tousled, her clothes rumpled from the uncomfortable position. She looked beautiful.
"You're back," she murmured, blinking sleep from her eyes. She sat up quickly. "Your wound—are you okay? What happened with your father?"
"Family reunion," I said dismissively. "It's time to get up."
She stared at me, eyes wide and suddenly alert. A flush crept up her neck, coloring her cheeks. "Get up? You mean..."
I raised an eyebrow. "I mean you should freshen up. There's a bathroom through that door."
"Oh!" She jumped to her feet, nearly tripping in her haste. "Right. Of course. I'll just... be right back."
I watched her hurry away, bemused by her reaction. Only when the bathroom door closed behind her did I allow myself a grimace of pain. The bandage needed changing, and I couldn't reach it myself.
By the time Aria emerged, looking more collected with her hair smoothed and face freshly washed, I'd removed my shirt and was attempting to reach the blood-spotted bandage wrapped around my torso.
She paused in the doorway, her eyes briefly lingering on the familiar scars that marked my back before focusing on the task at hand.
"Let me help you with that," she said, approaching without comment about the old wounds. She knew better than to mention them again.
I nodded, watching her carefully. "The bandage needs changing."
She crossed the room quickly, her expression professional as she examined the blood-spotted dressing. "It's bleeding through. You shouldn't have left the hospital so soon."
A knock at the door interrupted us. Marcus stood in the doorway, his expression apologetic.
"Sir, the Westin clients are waiting in the conference room downstairs."
"Tell them I'll be there in twenty minutes," I replied, not taking my eyes off Aria.
When Marcus left, I handed Aria the fresh bandages from the bedside table. "You'll have to make it quick."
She nodded, professional now as she carefully removed the old bandage. Her fingers were gentle against my skin, a stark contrast to the clinical detachment I was accustomed to. When her fingertips brushed across a particularly tender spot, I couldn't suppress a sharp intake of breath.
"Sorry," she murmured, her eyes meeting mine.
"I've had worse," I said, watching her expression change as she processed the implication.
She worked in silence for a moment, wrapping the clean bandage with surprising skill. Her eyes occasionally drifted to the scars on my back, but she kept her promise not to mention them.
"All done," she said, securing the bandage and stepping back.
I pulled on my shirt, buttoning it swiftly. "I'll have Marcus drive you home."
---
Aria's POV
The Harper family mansion was just as cold and impersonal as I remembered. I slipped my key into the lock, hoping to avoid any confrontation with my father or Victoria. No such luck.
"Aria." My father's voice stopped me at the foot of the grand staircase. "Where have you been? I've been calling you for hours."
I turned slowly, keeping my expression neutral. "Working. Some of us still do that."
William Harper's jaw tightened. "Your phone was off."
"Battery died," I lied smoothly. "Is there something you needed?"
I was about to walk away when a raised voice from the study caught my attention. Through the partially open door, I glimpsed a maid looking distraught.
"—cannot reach her, sir," the maid was saying. "Ms. Victoria's phone goes straight to voicemail, and she missed three appointments today."
My father's face darkened. "Find her," he hissed. "Now."