Chapter 117
Aria's POV
"This is my mother's beach house," I said. "I won't let anyone take it from me with these kinds of tactics."
Jeremy watched me with concern as I quickly gathered my things. "I'm sorry, but we'll have to continue our design discussion another time. There's an urgent situation at the Hamptons property."
"Is everything okay?" Jeremy's gray-green eyes narrowed with concern.
"Just some people trying to intimidate me with false claims." I shoved my laptop into my bag, already mentally calculating how quickly I could reach the Hamptons. "Nothing I can't handle."
"I still need to take some measurements at the property," Jeremy said, standing and collecting his portfolio. "I'll drive you."
I paused, momentarily thrown by his offer. "That's really not necessary—"
"Aria, I can tell something's wrong." His expression turned serious, a stark contrast to his usually relaxed demeanor. "Don't refuse. I'm not just an architect who draws pretty plans."
Something in his tone made me hesitate. After a moment, I nodded. "Fine. Thank you."
During the drive to Hampton, I called my lawyer and explained the situation. He promised to check if any liens had been filed against the property, but assured me that my ownership was solid.
"These are probably just intimidation tactics," he said. "Don't sign anything or admit to any debt."
I ended the call and stared out the window at the passing scenery. Jeremy drove with quiet confidence, occasionally glancing in my direction.
"You want to talk about it?" he finally asked.
"Not particularly." I sighed, then relented. "Someone is claiming my mother borrowed money using the beach house as collateral. It's completely false, but it's clear they're trying to block the renovation."
"And you think your stepmother is behind it?"
I shot him a surprised look. "How did you know?"
A small smile played at his lips. "You mentioned some family complications when we first discussed the project. Plus, your expression when you got that call said everything."
As we turned onto the private road leading to my mother's beach house, my thoughts were interrupted by the sight of five burly men blocking the driveway. The leader, a heavily tattooed man with a shaved head, leaned against a black SUV with his arms crossed.
"Stay in the car," I told Jeremy as we pulled up. "This could get ugly, and I don't want to drag you into my problems."
Jeremy nodded, but his eyes remained alert.
I stepped out of the car, straightening my blazer and lifting my chin. Years of dealing with difficult clients had taught me that projecting confidence was half the battle.
"Can I help you gentlemen?" I asked, approaching the group but maintaining a safe distance.
The tattooed man pushed himself off the SUV. "You must be Elizabeth Harper's daughter." His voice was rough, like gravel under tires. "I'm Rex from Vegas Collections. Your mother borrowed two million from my employer. With interest, that's now three million."
"My mother never borrowed money using this property," I replied calmly. "And she certainly wouldn't have dealt with anyone called 'Vegas Collections.'"
Rex pulled out a folded document from his leather jacket. "Papers say otherwise. See for yourself."
I took the document, careful not to let my hands shake. The contract looked official at first glance, with my mother's signature at the bottom. But I'd seen enough of her signature on birthday cards and letters to know this wasn't it. The loops were too tight, the slant wrong.
I took a photo of the document with my phone before handing it back. "This signature is forged. My mother never signed this. Additionally, this property was legally transferred to me before her death, so even if this debt were legitimate—which it isn't—you'd have no claim on the house."
Rex's smile disappeared. "Look, lady, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. Pay up, or we'll make sure no renovation happens here. Maybe accidents start happening to your workers. Maybe the house mysteriously burns down again."
A chill ran down my spine at his words. "Are you threatening me?"
"Just stating facts." His eyes traveled down my body in a way that made my skin crawl. "Though, you're pretty hot. Maybe we could work out another arrangement. Spend a few months with me, and I'll wipe the debt clean."
I stepped back, pulling out my phone. "I'm calling the police."
Rex moved faster than I expected. He grabbed my phone and shoved me hard, causing me to stumble backward. Pain shot through my wrist as I caught myself.
"Hey!" I shouted, anger replacing fear. "Give that back!"
Before I could react further, Jeremy was suddenly beside me, blocking Rex's path with a fluid movement that seemed practiced and deliberate.
"Back away from her," Jeremy said, his voice low and threatening in a way I'd never heard before.
Rex laughed. "Who's this? Your boyfriend?" He nodded to two of his men, who immediately stepped forward.
What happened next was so fast I could barely follow it. The first man reached for Jeremy, who sidestepped and executed a perfect arm lock that had the man gasping in pain. The second attacker met a similar fate—Jeremy's movements were quick, efficient, and clearly trained.
In seconds, both men were on the ground, and Jeremy stood protectively in front of me, his stance relaxed but ready. The remaining men, including Rex, suddenly looked uncertain.
"I suggest you leave," Jeremy said calmly. "And return the lady's phone."
Rex hesitated, then tossed my phone on the ground. "This isn't over," he growled, but the threat sounded hollow now. He gestured to his men, and they retreated to their vehicles.
As they drove away, I turned to Jeremy in shock. "What the hell was that? Where did you learn to fight like that?"
Jeremy's expression returned to its usual mild demeanor, though his eyes remained vigilant. "Just some martial arts training. Personal hobby."
"That was not 'just some training,'" I insisted. "Those were professional moves."
He shrugged, clearly uncomfortable with my questioning. "We should call the police. Those guys were making criminal threats."
I nodded, still processing what I'd witnessed. The architect I'd hired apparently had skills far beyond designing houses, and I couldn't help but wonder what else I didn't know about Jeremy Pierce.
---
Two hours later, we sat in the Hampton police station, finishing our statements. The officer assured us they would look into Vegas Collections and the threats made against me.
"Do you really think they'll be back?" I asked Jeremy as we waited for the paperwork to be processed.
"People like that usually back down when police get involved," he replied, though he didn't sound entirely convinced. "But it might be good to hire security for the property during renovation."
I nodded, wincing as I rotated my sore wrist. "You never answered my question about your fighting skills."
Jeremy's expression remained neutral. "You think I'm weak because I'm an architect?"
"No, I think you're being evasive because those weren't random moves. You've had professional training."
A small smile played at his lips. "Just a bit of martial arts. Nothing special."
---
Devon's POV
I was in the middle of reviewing acquisition contracts with Noah when his phone rang. Looking up from my laptop, I caught the frown that crossed his face as he answered.
"Hello? Yes, this is Noah Pierce." His expression shifted from confusion to concern. "The Hampton Police Department? Is everything alright?"
My attention sharpened instantly. The contracts could wait.
"My brother was involved in an incident? Is he injured?" Noah's voice grew tense. "He's at the station now giving a statement?"
I closed my document, watching Noah carefully. There was something in his tone that set me on edge.
"Yes, thank you for letting me know." Noah hung up, his expression troubled. "My brother Jeremy is at the Hampton police station. Apparently, there was some kind of altercation at a beach property."
"Is he okay?" I kept my voice neutral, though my curiosity was piqued.
"They said he's fine, just giving a statement." Noah paused. "The officer mentioned he was with Aria Harper."
At the mention of her name, something tightened in my chest. Aria. At a police station. The contract before me was suddenly irrelevant.
"I should go check on them," Noah said, already standing.
I was on my feet before he finished his sentence. "I'll go with you," I announced, closing my laptop with a decisive click.