Chapter 272
Aria’s POV
Before I could respond, he was already moving toward the door, his posture shifting back into that controlled authority I knew so well. At the threshold, he paused to issue quiet instructions to Marcus and Lucas, positioning them like silent guardians outside my room.
I should have said something. Asked what he meant by "everything." Demanded to know what came next.
Instead, I pulled the blanket higher and closed my eyes, letting him think I was ready to sleep. Through my lashes, I watched him take one last look at me before disappearing into the corridor.
The click of the door felt unnaturally loud in the sudden silence.
I waited, counting to sixty, then opened my eyes fully. The private room was dimly lit, shadows pooling in the corners. On the nightstand beside me, Devon's phone lay where he'd left it—face up, the screen dark but for the small notification light blinking steadily.
Three unread messages.
My hand moved before my brain could catch up, fingers wrapping around the device. I told myself I was just making sure nothing urgent needed his attention. That I wasn't snooping.
The screen lit up at my touch, no password required. Devon had always been paranoid about security on everything except this phone—the one he used for personal matters. The one only a handful of people had the number for.
Eleanor Kane: "We need to discuss Saturday's arrangements. Call me."
Christopher Quinn: "Heard about the crash. You good?"
William Harper: "Pick up. This is important."
The last one made my stomach clench. My father. Calling Devon at eleven o'clock on a weekday night.
Before I could second-guess myself, the phone buzzed in my hand. Another incoming call, the name lighting up the screen like an accusation.
"William Harper."
My finger hovered over the decline button. Let it go to voicemail. Let Devon deal with whatever manipulation my father had planned.
But something—curiosity, anger, or maybe just the bone-deep need to understand why my own father kept choosing everyone else over me—made me swipe to answer.
"Devon, we need to—" My father's voice cut off abruptly. The silence stretched, sharp and brittle. "Who is this?"
"Your daughter." I kept my voice flat, emotionless. "The one currently in the hospital. Remember me?"
A sharp inhale. "Aria. What are you doing with Kane's phone? Where is he?"
"That seems to fall outside your area of concern." I shifted against the pillows, ignoring the pull of bruised ribs. "What do you want?"
I'd stopped calling him "father" weeks ago. The title implied a relationship we no longer had.
"I—" He paused, and I could almost hear him recalibrating. "I heard about the accident. Are you alright?"
"Suddenly concerned about my wellbeing?" The bitterness leaked through despite my best efforts. "How touching."
"Don't be dramatic. I'm trying to—"
"To what? Control my life from prison? Oh wait, you're not in prison anymore, are you?" I sat up straighter, the movement sending a spike of pain through my shoulder. "Tell me, did you call Devon to gloat about buying your way out? Or is this about something else?"
"For God's sake, Aria, I'm trying to look out for you." His voice took on that edge I remembered from childhood—the tone that preceded lectures about responsibility and the Harper name. "Whatever you think you're doing with Kane, it needs to stop. The man is dangerous. His family is dangerous. If you think—"
"If I think what?" I cut him off. "If I think I can trust him more than my own father? That bar's pretty low, William."
"This isn't a game!" The shout cracked through the phone's speaker. "Kane will destroy you. He destroys everything he touches. And when he's done with you—because he will get tired of you—you'll have nothing left. Not even the family you're so eager to throw away."
I laughed, the sound harsh and hollow. "The family I'm throwing away? You mean the family that tried to poison my mother? The family that turned me into a business transaction? That family?"
"You ungrateful—" He stopped himself, breathing hard. When he spoke again, his voice had gone cold. "I'm telling you this once. Stay away from Devon Kane. End whatever arrangement you have with him. Come home where you belong."
"Home?" I looked around the sterile hospital room, at the machines monitoring my vitals, at the door where two of Devon's men stood guard. "I don't have a home, William. You made sure of that."
"The Harper mansion is your home. Your birthright. Your—"
"My prison." I found Devon's contact settings with practiced ease, scrolling through the options. "You know what? I'm done with this conversation. I'm done with you trying to dictate my life. I'm done with all of it."
"Aria, if you hang up this phone—"
"You'll what? Disinherit me? Send Victoria after me? Oh wait, you can't do that anymore, can she? She's in custody." My thumb hovered over the block button. "Here's what's going to happen. You're going to leave me alone. You're going to leave Devon alone. And you're going to accept that I'm not your puppet anymore."
"This is a mistake."
"Then it's mine to make." I tapped the block icon, watching my father's number disappear from Devon's contact list. "Goodbye, William."
I ended the call before he could respond, before the guilt could creep in, before I could second-guess myself. The phone's screen showed the time: 11:47 PM.
Devon had been gone less than twenty minutes.
I set the phone back on the nightstand, exactly where he'd left it, and burrowed deeper into the blankets. My shoulder throbbed. My head ached. And somewhere deep in my chest, a small, treacherous part of me wanted to call my father back. Wanted to hear him say he was sorry. That he'd chosen wrong. That he loved me more than his company, his reputation, his precious Harper legacy.
But I knew better now.
I closed my eyes and tried to sleep, tried to ignore the burning behind my eyelids that had nothing to do with the concussion.
Outside my door, Marcus's low voice murmured something to Lucas. Their presence should have felt oppressive—guards posted like I was a prisoner or a target.
Instead, it felt like safety.