Chapter 255
Aria's POV
The afternoon light filtered through the autumn leaves as I sat on a weathered bench near Bethesda Fountain, watching life unfold around me. A young mother knelt beside the water's edge, laughing as her toddler chased pigeons with unsteady steps. The child stumbled, and she caught him, pulling him close.
I stared at the mother and son, imagining a different version of this moment—one where the father wasn't a man bound to me by contract, where I didn't have to hide this life growing inside me like a shameful secret.
If this were different—if WE were different—I wouldn't hesitate. My mother was gone. My father was a stranger wrapped in blood money and lies. This baby might be the only real family I'd ever have.
But reality wasn't kind to dreams.
I pulled out my phone, fingers trembling as I typed "New York private abortion clinics" into the search bar. The results loaded. Professional. Discreet. Available as early as tomorrow.
My thumb hovered over the "Schedule Consultation" button.
"Maybe in another life," I whispered to my stomach, the words catching in my throat. "You came at the wrong time, little one. Maybe—"
My phone buzzed, Devon's name flashing across the screen.
I nearly dropped it. Guilt twisted through me, irrational and sharp, as if he could somehow see through the phone to the decision I was about to make. My heart hammered against my ribs as I stared at his name, each ring feeling like an accusation.
Finally, I answered. "Devon?"
"Where are you?" His voice was low, measured, but I caught the edge beneath it—the tone he used when he was cataloging details, searching for inconsistencies.
"At the office," I lied, the words tumbling out too quickly. "Dealing with the mess my father left."
Silence stretched between us, heavy with unspoken questions.
"You sound different." Not a question. An observation. "Everything okay?"
My pulse quickened. Could he tell? Did my voice betray the secret I was carrying? "Just tired. What's up?"
"Christopher's opening his new gallery in SoHo tonight at seven. I need you there."
I opened my mouth to refuse, to claim exhaustion or work or anything that would let me hide in my apartment and make decisions alone. "I don't think I can—"
The words came out too fast, too defensive.
"Why not?" The question was soft, but I heard steel beneath it.
"I mean..." I scrambled for solid ground. "I have plans with Sophia tonight. We were supposed to—"
"Where are you meeting her?"
Damn him and his attention to detail. "Just... around. We haven't decided yet."
"I'll have Marcus pick you up and drop you wherever you need to go afterward."
Trapped. I could feel the walls closing in, could hear the suspicion in his pause. Refusing now would only make things worse.
"Actually," I said, forcing brightness into my tone, "Sophia and I can reschedule. Tonight works fine."
"Good." Satisfaction colored his voice. "I'll pick you up at six-thirty."
The line went dead.
I sat frozen on the bench, the phone still pressed to my ear. With Devon's resources, discovering I'd visited a clinic would be child's play. Maybe he already knew. Maybe that call was a test, and I'd just failed it spectacularly.
I had less than three hours to pull myself together.
The Harper mansion felt emptier than usual as I rushed through the foyer at five-thirty, my heels clicking against marble. Elsa appeared from the dining room, concern creasing her weathered face.
"Miss Harper, you look pale. Are you feeling well?"
"I'm fine." I didn't slow down. "Just need to get ready quickly."
In my room, I tore through my closet, rejecting dress after dress. Too tight. Too revealing. Too... everything. My hands shook as I held up a deep navy silk slip dress with delicate straps. Elegant enough for a gallery opening, loose enough to hide the barely-there swell of my stomach that only I could detect.
At my vanity, I attempted to repair the damage of an afternoon spent crying in Central Park. Foundation. Concealer. Three attempts at eyeliner before my hand steadied enough to get it right. My phone buzzed.
Marcus is downstairs. Of course he was. Devon was nothing if not efficient.
I stood, smoothing down the dress, and caught my reflection in the full-length mirror. On the surface, I looked like myself—polished, put-together, ready for New York's elite. Only I could see the cracks beneath.
"Just one night," I whispered to my reflection. "Keep it together."
At the door, my hand drifted to my stomach one last time. "Sorry, baby. Mommy has to pretend you don't exist for tonight."
---
Quinn Gallery occupied a converted warehouse in SoHo, all white walls and industrial lighting that made the artwork pop against the minimalist backdrop. I arrived at seven-fifteen to find Devon waiting outside, devastating in a charcoal suit that probably cost more than most people's monthly rent.
His gray eyes tracked my approach, and I watched his expression shift—appreciation, then concern.
"You're late."
"Traffic was—"
"Your eyes are red." He stepped closer, tilting my chin up with one finger. "Have you been crying?"
My throat tightened. "Just allergies."
He studied me for a long moment, and I forced myself to meet his gaze, to not flinch away from the intensity of his scrutiny. Finally, he dropped his hand and offered his arm.
"Let's go in."
The gallery hummed with conversation and the soft clink of champagne flutes. Christopher Quinn materialized immediately, his smile wide and genuine.
"Devon! Aria! So glad you could make it!"
Devon produced an elegantly wrapped box—inside, I knew, would be something obscenely expensive and perfectly chosen. He always knew exactly what gift would make the right impression.
"Congratulations, Christopher," I managed, acutely aware that I'd brought nothing. "The gallery is stunning."
"I should thank Devon for bringing the most beautiful artwork tonight," Christopher said with a wink.
Devon's hand found my waist, possessive and warm through the thin silk. "She's not for sale."
We were examining a particularly abstract piece—something involving mirrors and light that I couldn't quite parse—when Sophia's voice cut through the crowd.
"Aria! I didn't know you'd be here!"