Chapter 105
Aria's POV
The silence in my office was suffocating. Father stood by the window, his silhouette cutting a stern figure against the Manhattan skyline. I focused on my computer screen, deliberately ignoring his presence while signing off on the last batch of contracts for our newest client.
A soft knock broke the tension. Sophia peeked in, her expression cautious.
"Aria, would you like me to bring Mr. Harper some coffee or tea?" she asked.
Father didn't even turn to acknowledge her, continuing his silent assessment of my office decor.
"No need," I replied with a practiced smile. "Mr. Harper won't be staying long." I gave her a slight nod, and she retreated, closing the door softly behind her.
Once we were alone again, Father's gaze swept across the open workspace visible through my glass wall, lingering on the handful of desks.
"Is this all? How can this little company of yours accomplish anything meaningful?" he asked, disdain dripping from each word.
I closed my laptop with deliberate calm. "If you have something to say, say it. I have a meeting in twenty minutes."
Father settled into the designer chair across from me, straightening his custom suit jacket. "I want you to come back to Harper Group. Media landscapes are changing, and we need fresh marketing perspectives."
I couldn't help the cold laugh that escaped my lips. "That's rich. When I graduated from Princeton, you told the entire board that Harper Group 'didn't need two creative directors' because you wanted to give Scarlett the position. Have you forgotten that?"
He waved his hand dismissively. "That was just father-daughter bickering. Don't take it so personally. Family businesses always have these little tensions."
"Well, I hold grudges," I said, setting down my pen. "Especially when I found out Scarlett's Princeton admission came through your donations, not her qualifications."
Something flickered behind his eyes—anger, perhaps, or recognition that I knew more than he thought. "What would it take to bring you back?" he asked, adjusting his posture.
"Why the sudden need for my return? Hasn't Victoria's PR strategy been working perfectly all this time?" I countered.
Father took a deep breath, hints of fatigue showing through his polished exterior. "I'm sixty-two, Aria. The group needs young blood. You're my daughter, Harper family blood. If not you, who should I entrust the company to?"
I raised an eyebrow, cutting to the core. "If you're planning to hand Harper Group to me, when will you transfer the shares into my name?"
Surprise flashed across his face. "When did you become so calculating? You weren't like this before."
I stood up and walked to the window, turning my back to him. "I'm calculating now because your heart has clearly shifted elsewhere. I need to protect my own interests since obviously no one else will consider them."
I turned to face him again. "Since you aren't ready to discuss substantive conditions, I believe we have nothing more to talk about. I won't be returning to Harper Group."
Father rose, using his height advantage to look down at me. "Are you severing ties with me and the Harper family? Is that what you want?"
"Don't pretend this is my choice, Dad," I laughed coldly. "From the day you brought Victoria into our home, let her take Mom's place, allowed Scarlett to claim Mom's things as her own—you've been trying to push me out of the family."
I stepped closer to him, my voice steady. "If that's what you want, fine, I accept. But Mom's forty-nine percent stake in Harper Group must be returned to me."
Father's expression hardened, and he offered no response. Instead, he turned and walked toward the door.
"You'll regret this, Aria," he said finally, closing the door behind him.
I stood at the floor-to-ceiling window, looking out at the bustling midtown Manhattan below. Taking several deep breaths, I tried to calm the storm inside me. In the glass reflection, I caught sight of my beauty mark on my collarbone—so similar to my mother's.
I picked up my phone and dialed. "Diana? It's me, Aria. I need to know more about what's happening at Harper Group. Free for lunch? Le Bernardin, my treat."
---
At Le Bernardin, Diana Thornton—Harper Group's HR manager and my mother's former friend—was already waiting at a corner table. When she saw me approach, she stood and grasped my arms affectionately.
"Look at you," she said warmly. "More like Elizabeth every day. That same elegance and strength."
After the waiter poured champagne, I got straight to the point. "My father came to see me today. He wants me back at Harper Group. What's going on?"
Diana glanced around to ensure no one was listening and lowered her voice. "Things aren't good. The Group's cash flow is extremely tight. Your father secretly mortgaged the Manhattan office building last month."
I nearly dropped my glass. "What? That building is worth at least $200 million!"
She nodded gravely. "That's just the beginning. They're desperate for funds." She paused. "I overheard him talking with Victoria about you. They mentioned something your mother left you—something that could save Harper Group immediately if you were willing."
I laughed bitterly. "Not content with selling me out once, they want to do it again. What exactly do they want?"
Diana shook her head. "I'm not certain. But it must be related to the inheritance Elizabeth left you."
We finished our lunch, and I walked Diana to the exit. As I was about to say goodbye, my attention was caught by two familiar figures through the restaurant's side glass partition.
"You go ahead. I just remembered something," I told Diana, my eyes still fixed on that direction.
Diana followed my gaze but didn't question me. "All right. Call me if you need anything. And be careful with Victoria—she's more dangerous than you think."
After she left, I made my way to the side of the restaurant, positioning myself behind a decorative palm tree. Through the glass, I could clearly see Sophia and Owen engaged in what appeared to be an intimate conversation. Owen's hand rested lightly on Sophia's arm, and her expression wasn't one of sadness or anger, but something more complex—an emotion I'd never seen on my friend's face before.
I watched them, questions multiplying in my mind. What was Sophia doing with Owen? And why hadn't she told me they were meeting?