Chapter 146
Aria's POV
"You want what?" Victoria's voice cracked with panic through my earpiece. I felt a rush of cold satisfaction flood through me as I sat in Ryan's car, parked two blocks away from the meeting site. My hands trembled slightly—not from nervousness, but from a potent mixture of vindication and long-suppressed rage finally finding its outlet.
"Five million dollars," the man replied coolly. His voice was calm, professional—exactly what I'd asked for when Ryan recruited him. "Otherwise, these photos and videos will be sent to every major news outlet and socialite on the Upper East Side. Your husband might know, but the world doesn't. Think of the Harper family's reputation."
"This is absurd! I don't have that kind of money!" Victoria's desperate tone pierced through the earpiece. I closed my eyes, savoring each panicked syllable.
"Two days," the man stated firmly. "Otherwise, the entire Upper East Side will know Victoria Harper's true face. Think about your social standing, and your daughter's future."
I could visualize her perfectly made-up face now—eyes widening, lips trembling, the careful facade of composure crumbling away. The woman who had methodically dismantled my mother's life was now watching her own begin to unravel. The thought sent a wave of dark pleasure through me, followed immediately by a stab of guilt that surprised me with its intensity. My mother wouldn't have wanted this. But then again, my mother never got to see what Victoria truly was.
"I need time," Victoria pleaded. "This isn't something I can arrange overnight."
"Two days," the man repeated, unmoved. "We'll be in touch with the transfer details."
The conversation ended, and I watched through the tablet as the two men left the meeting place, a nondescript bench in Central Park. They walked casually toward the parking lot where Ryan and I were waiting.
When they approached the car, I rolled down the window and handed them a thick envelope, my fingers still unsteady.
"Well done," I said, appreciating their professional demeanor. "Keep pressuring her for the next two days. Send her more photos."
"She looked really scared," one of them commented, tucking the envelope into his jacket.
I swallowed hard, trying to ignore the conflicting emotions warring inside me. "The money she has was Harper money to begin with. Money my mother worked hard for. I'm just taking back what's mine." The words came out harder than I intended, brittle with the weight of years of helpless anger.
After they left, Ryan turned to me, his expression concerned. "It's done. There's no turning back now. How are you holding up?"
"So is arson," I replied, my voice dropping to barely above a whisper. "She burned down my mother's beach house, Ryan. The home where I spent every summer growing up. Where my mother taught me to swim, where we painted seashells on rainy days." I felt my throat constrict with emotion. "Do you know what she said when I confronted her? 'It was just a house, Aria. You can always build another one.' As if my mother's memory could be rebuilt with new walls and fresh paint."
Ryan reached over and squeezed my hand. "I know it meant everything to you."
"It was all I had left of her," I admitted, the words scraping my throat raw. "Every corner of that house held her voice, her laugh. Victoria knew exactly what she was taking from me."
Ryan nodded, starting the car. "Let's get some dinner. You need to eat something before you face the rest of tonight."
---
At Il Giardino, I struggled to focus on the plate before me. The pasta tasted like ash in my mouth as Ryan updated me on the rest of our plan.
"I've instructed the guys to send her a new photo every twelve hours, each one more compromising than the last," he explained. "I think she'll be desperate enough to agree to anything sooner or later."
My phone chimed with a text message. I glanced down to see Scarlett's name and felt my stomach knot with tension.
"The party's at Blue Sapphire," I said, my voice flat. "She's really splurging."
"She's always needed the biggest and the best," I added, setting down my fork. "Even when we were kids, her birthday parties had to outshine everyone else's. I remember one year, she threw a fit because my mother's gift to me—a simple silver bracelet—got more attention than her new designer handbag. The next day, the bracelet disappeared. She denied taking it, of course."
Ryan checked his watch. "I'm sorry, I have a date I need to get to." He looked at me with concern. "Are you sure you want to go to that party? Scarlett's obviously planning something."
I nodded, taking a sip of my wine. "Absolutely. I want to see what she's up to." I straightened my shoulders, steeling myself. "Besides, I've spent too many years avoiding confrontation with her. I'm done hiding."
After settling the bill, Ryan walked me to my car. "Be careful tonight," he warned. "And call me if anything happens."
"I will," I promised, though I had no intention of letting Scarlett get to me. The scared, insecure girl who had once been terrorized by her stepsister was gone. In her place stood a woman who had finally learned to fight back.
---
The Blue Sapphire was bathed in soft golden light when I arrived, the Manhattan skyline glittering behind floor-to-ceiling windows. Scarlett had chosen a white and gold theme, with enormous floral arrangements and champagne fountains at every turn. The opulence was suffocating, a shrine to excess that perfectly reflected my stepsister's personality.
As I stepped inside, I immediately sensed eyes on me. My midnight blue dress stood out in stark contrast to the sea of white and gold outfits surrounding me. I had known about the dress code—there had been a note in Scarlett's invitation—but I had deliberately chosen to ignore it.
In the corner, I spotted two familiar faces: Lillian Lewis and Chloe Carter, my high school classmates who had once been my friends—until Scarlett had come between us.
The memory surfaced with painful clarity. I had been sixteen, and for once, things had been going well. I had been selected for the advanced art program, and Lillian and Chloe had been my closest friends. Then one afternoon, everything changed.
"You pushed her into the wall?" Lillian had demanded, her voice echoing in the school hallway. "What is wrong with you, Aria?"
"I didn't touch her," I had protested, confusion giving way to dread as I saw Scarlett approach, arm bandaged dramatically, eyes red from crying. "She's lying."
"I don't know why you hate me so much," Scarlett had said, her voice trembling perfectly. "I've tried so hard to be your sister."
"We all saw the bruises," Chloe had added, putting a protective arm around Scarlett. "God, Aria, I never thought you'd be capable of something like this."
I remembered standing there, surrounded by accusing eyes, my protests falling on deaf ears. The truth—that Scarlett had locked herself in the bathroom, made herself cry, and then emerged with a self-inflicted bruise on her arm—didn't matter. Her performance had been flawless, and overnight, I had become the villain in my own life.
I grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and took a slow sip, mentally preparing myself for the inevitable confrontation. The memory of that public humiliation still burned, but tonight, I wasn't the same defenseless girl.
"Look who's here," Lillian said, her voice carrying across the room as she approached. "Aria Harper. Are you here to crash the party?"
I smiled politely, fighting to keep my expression neutral despite the surge of old anger. "Why would you think that?"
"Don't play innocent," she scoffed. "We all remember what you did to Scarlett in high school. Just because she's your stepsister now doesn't mean you can keep bullying her."
I felt my chest tighten, the old accusation still able to wound after all these years. "Interesting. Ten years have passed, and you still believe that lie."