Chapter 63
Aria’s POV
I watched Scarlett disappear around the corner, her hasty retreat confirming what I'd suspected all along. With a satisfied smile, I climbed the stairs to my room. After yesterday's drama with Ethan and those "leaked" photos with Ryan, I needed to focus on something genuinely important today—being there for Sofia while her mother underwent her second heart surgery at Mount Sinai Hospital.
I stood before my mirror, applying a light coat of mascara to my lashes. I'd chosen a simple slate-blue dress that fell just below my knees—modest enough for a hospital visit but still put-together enough to maintain appearances. In my world, even compassion had a dress code.
My fingers worked methodically through my hair, twisting it into a low chignon at the nape of my neck. The routine was calming, giving me a few precious minutes of normalcy. I still couldn't decide which was more satisfying—watching Ethan squirm with jealousy or catching Scarlett's panicked expression when I hinted I knew what she'd done.
As I reached for my pearl earrings—small studs that had belonged to my mother—my eyes drifted to her photograph on the wall. Elizabeth Harper smiled back at me, her amber eyes so much like my own, her hand resting protectively on five-year-old me. The familiar ache bloomed in my chest.
"I miss you," I whispered, touching the frame lightly. "And I promise, I'm getting closer to the truth."
I grabbed my purse and the canvas tote containing the gifts I'd prepared for Mrs. Kim—a bouquet of cheerful yellow daisies and a carefully curated fruit basket from the organic market Sofia loved. As I headed for the door, I felt my mother's eyes following me, silently urging me forward in my quest for justice.
The taxi ride to Mount Sinai passed in a blur of Manhattan traffic and my own swirling thoughts. By the time I arrived, clutching my offerings, I felt the weight of the hospital pressing down on me. I hated hospitals—had hated them ever since watching my mother fade away in one just like this, while Victoria hovered nearby like a vulture waiting for her prey to exhale its final breath.
I pushed those dark thoughts aside as I spotted Sofia pacing outside the cardiac surgery wing, her normally immaculate appearance showing signs of strain. Her silk blouse was slightly wrinkled, and dark circles shadowed her eyes.
"Aria," she breathed, rushing toward me. "You came."
"Of course I did," I replied, setting down my gifts to embrace her. "How is she?"
Sofia's eyes welled with tears. "She's been in there for three hours already. The doctor said it could take up to five. I'm really worried, Aria. This is her second surgery in six months, and the last one was supposed to fix everything."
I squeezed her hands. "Your mom is strong—just like her daughter. She's going to pull through this."
We sat in the waiting area, the antiseptic smell and fluorescent lighting creating that timeless limbo unique to hospitals. To distract Sofia, I pulled out my tablet and began showing her the preliminary concepts for Kane Technology's blockchain campaign.
"I incorporated Devon's feedback about focusing on relationship trust rather than technical specs," I explained, swiping through the mockups. "We're positioning blockchain as an emotional solution, not just a technological one."
Sofia leaned closer, momentarily engaged. "That's brilliant, actually. 'Trust, Verified' as the tagline works perfectly with those visuals."
"I was thinking we could approach that podcast host you mentioned—the one with the finance show that makes complex topics accessible? He'd be perfect for explaining the psychological benefits."
For nearly an hour, we lost ourselves in work talk, the creative process providing a welcome escape from the sterile anxiety of the surgical waiting room. When the doors finally swung open and a tired-looking surgeon emerged, Sofia jumped to her feet, her face a mask of hope and fear.
"Mrs. Kim's surgery was successful," the doctor announced with a small smile. "We were able to replace the valve and clear the blockage. She's being moved to recovery now."
Sofia's knees nearly buckled with relief. "When can I see her?"
"In about thirty minutes. But I should warn you—while the surgery went well, her heart has sustained significant damage over the years. Going forward, she'll need to be on a strict regimen of medication, and her diet and lifestyle will require significant changes."
I watched as Sofia nodded seriously, absorbing every word. When the doctor left, I hugged her tightly.
"She's okay," Sofia whispered against my shoulder. "She's really okay."
An hour later, we stood beside Mrs. Kim's bed in the recovery room. Her face was pale against the white hospital linens, and various tubes and monitors created a technological cocoon around her frail form. Despite this, when she opened her eyes and saw Sofia, a weak smile transformed her features.
"My beautiful girl," she murmured in a voice barely above a whisper.
Sofia immediately began fussing, adjusting her mother's blankets and offering water. I stood back, watching their interaction with a strange hollow feeling in my chest. Seeing them together—the fierce protective love in Sofia's eyes, the tender pride in her mother's—made my own loss feel raw all over again.
Four years ago, I'd stood in a room just like this one, watching my own mother fade away day by day. But there had been no successful surgery, no relieved doctor bearing good news. Just a series of worsening symptoms, mysterious complications, and finally, the flatline of the monitor that signaled the end of Elizabeth Harper's life.
And Victoria had been there through it all, gradually inserting herself into my father's life while my mother's light dimmed.
"Aria?" Sofia's voice pulled me from my dark memories. "Are you okay?"
I blinked rapidly. "Yes, sorry. Just got lost in thought. I should probably head out and let you two have some time together."
Mrs. Kim reached out her hand to me. "Thank you for coming, Aria. Sofia tells me your company is doing very well."
I squeezed her thin fingers gently. "We're getting there. And Sofia is a huge part of that success."
"I know," she said with maternal pride. "My daughter has always had an eye for beauty."
After promising Sofia I'd check in later and making Mrs. Kim swear she'd follow doctor's orders, I left the recovery room. As the door closed behind me, I leaned against the wall for a moment, gathering my composure.
I headed toward the elevators, eager to escape the antiseptic air and beeping machines. As I rounded the corner, a flash of familiar platinum blonde hair caught my eye. Scarlett was hurrying into a door marked "Obstetrics & Gynecology," her movements furtive, her designer handbag clutched tightly against her white sundress.
Interesting. Very interesting.
I checked my watch. I had nowhere urgent to be, and suddenly, waiting seemed like the most natural thing in the world. I found a seat in the hallway with a clear view of the department entrance and pulled out my phone, pretending to be absorbed in emails while keeping the door in my peripheral vision.
Fifteen minutes later, Scarlett emerged, her face pinched with worry. She was holding what looked like medical documents, which she quickly stuffed into her handbag when she spotted me sitting there. Her perfectly made-up face transformed from anxiety to alarm in an instant.
"Aria!" she gasped, one hand flying to her throat in that theatrical way she had. "What a coincidence! What are you doing here?"