Chapter 145
Aria's POV
I stepped into the spacious living room, the familiar scent of fresh lilies filling the air. Father was seated in his favorite leather armchair, while Scarlett stood before him, her perfectly manicured hands clasped together in a pleading gesture. Her eyes were rimmed with red—an act she had perfected over the years.
"Daddy, please," she was saying, her voice quivering with practiced vulnerability. "It's my birthday celebration. I need Mom to be there."
Father looked torn, his fingers drumming against the armrest. The past twenty-four hours had clearly taken a toll on him. The revelation of Victoria's indiscretion had struck him harder than I anticipated.
Without announcing my presence, I gracefully took a seat on the sofa beside Father's chair. "Dad, you can't let her come back," I said, my tone firm but measured.
Both heads swiveled toward me. Scarlett's expression immediately hardened, though she maintained her tearful appearance for Father's benefit.
"This is my birthday, Aria," she snapped. "I need my mother there. Not everyone has your ice-cold heart."
I ignored the jab, focusing instead on Father. "If Victoria has been unfaithful as those photos suggest, allowing her back into this house will make you the laughingstock of the entire Upper East Side." I crossed my legs, smoothing down my skirt. "She might have no shame, but the Harper family still has its reputation to consider."
Father's eyes flickered with recognition. If there was one thing William Harper cared about more than his own desires, it was the family's standing in society.
"You might be right, Aria," he finally conceded, turning to Scarlett. "Sweetheart, you can go visit your mother if you wish. But Victoria cannot return to this house just yet." He placed his hand over Scarlett's. "If you want to celebrate your birthday with her, I won't stand in your way."
Scarlett's mouth twisted into something ugly before she quickly composed herself. "But Daddy—"
"My decision is final," Father interrupted, his voice carrying the authoritative tone he typically reserved for board meetings.
With a heavy sigh that seemed to suggest tremendous suffering, Father rose and left the room, likely retreating to his study where he'd spend the next few hours nursing a glass of scotch.
The moment he was gone, Scarlett's transformation was immediate and complete. Her tears vanished, and her eyes narrowed with undisguised hatred.
"Why do you always have to ruin everything?" she hissed, advancing toward me.
I remained seated, adjusting the cuff of my blouse. "If you miss your mother so much, why don't you move in with her? I'm sure the Madison Park apartment has vacant rooms."
"I'm not going anywhere," Scarlett declared, tossing her hair over her shoulder defiantly. "And don't think you've won. Mom will be back soon enough."
"If I were you, I wouldn't be so certain." I smiled dangerously. "I have more than enough evidence to ensure Victoria never steps foot in this house again."
A flicker of uncertainty crossed Scarlett's face. "You're bluffing."
"Am I?" I rose slowly, maintaining eye contact. "Your mother has been sloppy, Scarlett. Very sloppy. And I've been collecting receipts."
Scarlett's perfectly glossed lips pressed into a thin line, but she said nothing more. I walked past her, deliberately brushing against her shoulder as I headed toward the staircase.
Back in my room, I closed the door and pulled out my phone, dialing Ryan.
"Ryan," I said without preamble when he answered. "I need a favor."
"Name it," he replied, the background noise suggesting he was at some social event.
"I need you to find some people who can put pressure on Victoria. The kind of people who might make her... uncomfortable."
There was a pause. "What kind of people are we talking about here, Aria?"
"The kind that might convince her that taking things from the Harper family comes with consequences." I walked to the window, gazing out at the meticulously maintained garden below. "She's taken so much already. It's time she started giving some of it back."
"Are you sure about this?" Ryan's voice had grown serious. "This isn't exactly your typical social maneuver."
"She burned down my mother's beach house, Ryan." My voice hardened. "My mother's home. Do you really think I care about playing by the rules anymore?"
Another pause. "I'll make some calls," he finally said. "But be careful, Aria. Victoria isn't exactly known for taking things lying down."
"Neither am I."
After ending the call, I sat at my desk and began drafting an email to my lawyer regarding the Hampton property's insurance claim. The fire investigation was still ongoing, but I was determined to rebuild what Victoria had destroyed.
---
Hours later, as I was reviewing company documents in my room, my phone rang. Ryan's name flashed on the screen.
"The fish has taken the bait," he said cryptically.
I immediately texted him detailed instructions: "Have them send Victoria some photos first—her with other men in various locations. When she starts to panic, have them offer to meet her to discuss terms."
"She's asking to meet right now," came Ryan's swift reply.
"Tell them to reschedule for late afternoon," I instructed. "Let her stew in her anxiety for a few more hours."
I could almost picture Victoria's perfectly made-up face contorting with fear, wondering who had evidence of her indiscretions beyond what I'd already sent Father. The thought brought me a small measure of satisfaction.
Later that afternoon, as I was preparing to leave the Harper mansion, Scarlett appeared in the foyer. She was wearing a white sundress that made her look younger than her twenty-two years—another calculated choice.
"Aria," she called, her voice uncharacteristically soft. "I know there's been a lot of... unpleasantness between us."
I paused, hand on the door handle, immediately suspicious. "What do you want, Scarlett?"
"It's my birthday party tonight," she said, fidgeting with the hem of her dress. "With Mom not here... I was hoping you'd come."
I studied her face, searching for the trick. "Why the sudden desire for sisterly bonding?"
"Because..." She hesitated, a flash of something—perhaps genuine emotion—crossing her face. "We're family, after all."
I didn't believe her for a second, but I was curious about what game she was playing. "Fine. I'll be there."
As I slipped into my car, I couldn't help but wonder what Scarlett was planning. But that would have to wait. Right now, Victoria was my primary target.
I met Ryan in the underground parking garage of a Manhattan office building. He handed me a Bluetooth earpiece and a tablet.
"Put this on," he explained, gesturing to the earpiece. "You'll be able to hear everything our guys say to Victoria, and you can see them on the surveillance feed."
I inserted the earpiece and watched the tablet screen spring to life. Two men in nondescript business attire approached Victoria, who was sitting nervously on a bench, frequently checking her watch. One of the men opened a manila envelope, showing her its contents. Even from the grainy surveillance footage, I could see her face lose color.
"Mrs. Victoria Harper," one man's deep voice came through my earpiece. "We have some items you might not want made public."