Chapter 64
Aria’s POV
I rose slowly, tucking my phone away. "Visiting Sofia's mother after her heart surgery," I said, my tone pleasant but my eyes sharp. "The better question is what are you doing here, in the obstetrics department? Not feeling well?"
Her eyes darted around, looking for an escape route. "I was just... getting a regular checkup. Women's health is important, you know."
"How responsible of you," I replied, my gaze dropping deliberately to her midsection, then to her purse where she'd hidden the papers. "Everything okay with the examination?"
A flush spread across her cheeks. "Perfect! Absolutely perfect. The doctor says I'm in excellent health."
"I'm so glad to hear it," I said, taking a step closer. "Though most women go to their gynecologist's office for routine checkups, not the hospital department that specializes in high-risk pregnancies and advanced prenatal care."
The color drained from her face. "I—I have to go. I'm meeting friends for lunch."
"Of course you are," I murmured. "Don't let me keep you."
She practically ran toward the elevators, jabbing the button repeatedly as if that would make it arrive faster. As the doors closed on her panicked expression, I couldn't help the slow smile that spread across my face.
So, little sister was pregnant. And given her reaction, I had a pretty good idea who the father might be. The timing couldn't be more perfect—or more disastrous, depending on whose perspective you took. With the wedding just around the corner, this unexpected development added a fascinating new dimension to my plans.
I found myself looking forward to the wedding with renewed enthusiasm.
Back at the Harper estate that afternoon, I found my father in the garden, enjoying his afternoon coffee while reviewing documents.
"Father," I greeted him, taking the seat opposite. Elsa appeared with a second cup of coffee for me, offering a warm smile that contrasted sharply with my father's cool gaze.
"Aria," he acknowledged. "I thought you'd be at your office today."
"I was visiting Sofia's mother at Mount Sinai. She had heart surgery this morning."
He nodded absently, clearly uninterested in anyone outside his immediate circle of concern. "I hope she recovers quickly. Now, I wanted to discuss the Blake situation."
Of course he did. Not my day, not my work, not anything personal—just how I could best serve the family interests.
"What about it?" I asked, stirring my coffee.
"You should be spending more time with Ethan," he said bluntly. "Cultivating the relationship. The Blake family is extremely important to our business interests, and this... incident with the photographs has raised concerns."
I stiffened. "Ethan understands it was nothing. I explained everything."
"Explanations aren't enough. You need to be visibly devoted, especially now. The media is watching. The Blake board members are watching."
"I'm sorry my personal relationship isn't adhering strictly enough to your business timeline," I said, unable to keep the edge from my voice.
His eyes narrowed. "Don't be flippant, Aria. This engagement isn't just about you and Ethan. It's about securing the future of Harper Group."
"You're so eager to sell your daughter to secure business deals, I'm surprised you haven't put a barcode on my forehead," I replied. "Or is that what the engagement ring is for? A prettier version of a price tag?"
My father slammed his coffee cup down on the table, sending a spray of dark liquid across the pristine white tablecloth. "That's enough!" The cup shattered, ceramic shards scattering across the table. "You have no idea the pressure I'm under to keep this company afloat. The media landscape is changing faster than we can adapt."
I watched him with calculated calm, even as Elsa rushed over with a cloth to clean up the mess. "Perhaps if you hadn't pushed away the person with the most innovative digital marketing experience in the family, you wouldn't be struggling so much to 'adapt,'" I suggested.
He ignored my point, as usual. "The Blake merger brings us exactly what we need—established luxury clientele, print distribution networks, and the capital to expand our digital platforms."
"And all it costs is your daughter's happiness," I said softly. "Such a bargain."
"Don't be dramatic. Millions of women would kill to marry into the Blake family."
"Then perhaps you should have offered Scarlett instead," I countered. "She's practically your daughter now anyway, isn't she?"
His face flushed with anger. "I expect you to do whatever it takes to ensure Ethan invests in our new media project before the wedding. His family's connections and financial backing are essential."
I studied my father carefully, seeing the desperation behind his anger. The mighty William Harper was afraid—afraid of obsolescence, afraid of failure. And that fear gave me leverage.
"I can convince Ethan to invest," I said slowly, a plan forming in my mind. "But I'll need something in return."
My father's expression turned wary. "What?"
"The Hampton beach house. I want it transferred back to my name. Legally. Irrevocably."
He scoffed. "That's out of the question. Scarlett uses that house for her social media content and weekend gatherings. It's valuable for the Harper brand image."
"And having a Harper marry into the Blake family isn't? Think about it, Father. Once I marry Ethan, the beach house would essentially become Blake property anyway. I'm just asking for what's rightfully mine—what Mom explicitly left to me—to be returned before the wedding."
I could see the calculations running behind my father's eyes. He was weighing the cost against the benefit, treating his daughter's request like any other business proposition.
"I'll consider it," he said finally. "But I want to see concrete progress with Ethan first. A public reconciliation, increased visibility together, and his signature on the investment proposal."
I rose from my seat, smoothing my dress. "I think that can be arranged." I placed my hand briefly on his shoulder, feeling him stiffen under my touch. "Thank you for the coffee, Father. I look forward to resolving this... situation... to everyone's satisfaction."
As I walked away, I felt his eyes on my back, probably wondering when his compliant daughter had become such a shrewd negotiator. Little did he know, I'd learned from the best—watching him manipulate and maneuver people my entire life had been quite the education.
Back in my Brooklyn apartment, I tapped my fingers against my desk, waiting for the email from Ryan's doctor friend. I'd called in a favor on my way home from the Harper estate, and within hours, the encrypted file arrived in my inbox.
I opened it quickly, scanning the medical report with growing satisfaction. There it was in black and white: Scarlett Harper, approximately 8 weeks pregnant. The report included hormone levels, ultrasound dates, and recommendations for prenatal vitamins.
This changed everything and nothing at the same time. I'd suspected Scarlett and Ethan were still involved, but this concrete evidence of their affair—and its consequences—gave me more leverage than I could have hoped for.
If news of this pregnancy got out before the wedding, the Blake family would be scandalized. Their precious heir having an affair with his fiancée's stepsister? The tabloids would feast for months. Blake Fashion stock would plummet, and the carefully cultivated image of the Blake family as American fashion royalty would be tarnished.
I leaned back in my chair, considering my options. I could expose them immediately, bringing both our families into disrepute and effectively ending any chance of reconciliation. Or I could bide my time, use this information strategically to secure what I wanted most—the beach house, my independence, and justice for my mother.
I reached for my phone and texted Ryan: [Need a favor. Surveillance equipment. Discreet. Will explain later.]