Chapter 263
Aria's POV
The words hit like a slap. "I wasn't trying to trap you or—"
"Trap me?" He laughed, a harsh sound with no humor in it. "Is that what you think this is about?"
"Isn't it?" I shot back, finding a spark of defiance through the fog. "We had an arrangement. A contract. I got pregnant by accident and I didn't want you to feel obligated to—"
He was up and across the space before I could finish, his hand gripping my chin and forcing my head up. "You thought you'd just make it go away? Solve the problem cleanly so we could both pretend nothing happened?"
His face was inches from mine, close enough that I could see the storm raging in his eyes, could feel the tremor in his fingers despite the iron control he was trying to maintain.
"I thought..." My voice came out smaller than I intended. "I thought if I just took care of it, we could go back to normal. Part ways when the contract ended without complications."
"Part ways." He released me abruptly, turning away to scrub a hand over his face. "Jesus Christ, Aria."
"What did you want me to do?" I stood, my own anger finally breaking through. "You have Mandy. You have your mother pushing you toward Mandy. You have—" My voice broke. "You have Evelyn, whoever the hell she really is to you. I saw you with her, Devon. I saw how gentle you were, how you looked at her. What am I supposed to think?"
He spun to face me, and for the first time, I saw genuine shock in his expression. "Evelyn? What are you talking about?"
"At the hospital." The words tumbled out now, all the hurt I'd been holding back. "I saw you pushing her wheelchair, touching her face like she was precious. And your mother—Eleanor came to me. She told me to end things with you. Said if I didn't walk away, she'd destroy Harper Group's partnerships, make my father's legal troubles worse. I can't..." I wrapped my arms around myself. "I can't drag everyone down with me."
Devon stared at me like I'd grown a second head. Then he laughed—actually laughed—though there was nothing amusing in the sound.
"So you believed her." He shook his head slowly. "You believed my mother's threats. You saw something you didn't understand and jumped to conclusions. And instead of asking me—instead of giving me a chance to explain—you decided to handle it on your own. To get rid of our child and disappear from my life like you never existed."
"Would you have explained?" I challenged, tears burning my eyes. "Would you have told me the truth about Evelyn? You don't exactly have a track record of transparency, Devon."
His jaw clenched. "You're right. I don't share everything. But you never asked. You just ran."
"Because I'm trying to protect—"
"Protect who?" He closed the distance between us again, backing me against the window. "Me? Yourself? That baby you were so eager to destroy?"
"Don't." My voice shook. "Don't act like you wanted this. We had rules. Boundaries. This wasn't supposed to happen."
"You're right." His hands came to rest on either side of my head, caging me in. "It wasn't supposed to happen. But it did. And you don't get to make unilateral decisions about it. You don't get to play martyr and sacrifice our child because you're scared."
"I'm not scared." But my voice betrayed the lie.
"Yes, you are." His face was so close now I could count his eyelashes, see the faint stubble along his jaw. "You're terrified. Of me, of this, of what it might mean. So you did what you always do—you tried to handle it alone, make yourself small, disappear before anyone could decide you weren't worth keeping."
The accuracy of his words stole my breath. "Devon—"
"No." He pushed off the window, creating distance that felt like a chasm. "I need to think. You need to stay here where I know you're safe. We'll talk more when I can do it without saying something I'll regret."
He strode to the door, paused with his hand on the frame. "You're not leaving this apartment, Aria. Not until we figure this out. Together."
The door closed behind him with controlled precision. I heard him speaking to someone in the hallway—Marcus, probably, or one of the other security guards. His voice was low but authoritative: "Emily will bring lunch in thirty minutes. Make sure she has everything she needs. No one else comes up here without my authorization. No one. I don't care who they claim to be."
I sank onto the bed, wrapping my arms around my middle. The baby was still there, still growing. Still mine.
Still ours.
Through the window, Manhattan stretched out below—glittering and cold and impossibly far away. I'd wanted to spare Devon this complication, this burden. Instead, I'd trapped us both in something far more tangled than a simple contract.
The door opened again. Devon stood in the entrance, his expression unreadable. "I almost forgot." He crossed to the nightstand, pulled open a drawer, and removed a small white bag. "Prenatal vitamins. You're six weeks along—you should start taking them."
He set the bag down and walked out again without another word. This time, I heard the distinct click of the lock engaging.
I pulled the bottle from the bag, reading the label through tears I couldn't seem to stop. He'd bought the premium brand, organic, with extra folic acid.
The man who'd just lectured me about keeping secrets had somehow known I needed vitamins before I did. The man who'd dragged me from a surgical table had brought me supplements instead of recriminations.
I tried to turn the handle, but the door wouldn't budge. I turned it again, harder this time, feeling the solid resistance of the lock. My heart began to race as reality set in—Devon had actually done it. He'd locked me in.
I crossed to the floor-to-ceiling windows, my reflection ghosting across the Manhattan skyline. The view that had once seemed liberating now felt like a taunt. I pressed my palm against the glass, searching for the window controls, but the security system's red light blinked mockingly at me. Lockdown mode.
About twenty minutes later, I heard the soft sound of a key turning in the lock. The door opened to reveal Emily holding a silver tray, her uniform crisp and her expression professionally neutral.
"Miss Harper?" she said, stepping inside. "I've brought your lunch."
She set the tray on the bedside table. The arrangement was meticulous: organic vegetable salad, perfectly steamed salmon, fresh juice in a crystal glass. Everything carefully chosen for a pregnant woman.
"Devon," I said, hating how my voice wavered. "Where is he?"