Chapter 126
Aria's POV
I slapped the forged loan document onto the marble counter between us.
Victoria's expression flickered momentarily before settling into practiced innocence. She barely glanced at the paper. "Explain what, dear? Some random document you've fabricated?"
"This isn't fabricated. This is a loan agreement for two million dollars—with three million dollars in supposed interest—using my mother's signature and the Hamptons beach house as collateral." I tapped the paper with my index finger. "Except my mother was already hospitalized when this was supposedly signed."
My father entered the kitchen, his face hardening when he saw us. "What's going on here?"
"Your daughter is making wild accusations again," Victoria said smoothly, placing a hand on his arm. "Something about forged documents."
I turned to my father. "Dad, look at this. Someone used Mom's name to borrow money, and they used her beach house—my beach house—as collateral." I pushed the document toward him. "The same men who vandalized my beach house showed up at my office yesterday, destroying everything. They claim I owe them money."
My father barely looked at the document before pushing it back toward me. "Aria, these desperate attempts to blame Victoria for your business failures are becoming pathetic."
"Business failures?" I felt my chest tighten with anger. "My office was deliberately vandalized, and I lost a three-million-dollar contract because of it. This isn't coincidence."
Victoria's perfectly manicured hand reached for my arm. "Perhaps if you'd joined the family business instead of insisting on your little marketing venture—"
I jerked away from her touch. "Don't. You think I don't see what's happening? You forged this document, used my mother's property as collateral, and now you're trying to force me out when the debt collectors come calling."
My father's face darkened. "That's enough!" He stepped toward me, hand raised.
I flinched and stepped back, knocking into the side table. The delicate Tiffany vase toppled and shattered across the Italian marble floor.
The room fell silent. I stared at the scattered crystal shards, my mother's favorite flowers now lying among broken glass. Something inside me hardened in that moment.
"I'm done," I said, my voice suddenly calm. "Victoria, fix this mess with the loan sharks, or I go to the police with evidence of forgery and fraud. Your choice."
I turned and walked out, pausing only to glance back at Victoria. For the first time, I saw genuine fear flicker across her perfect features.
---
My phone rang as the Uber pulled away from the Harper mansion. Unknown number.
"Ms. Harper?" A gruff male voice. "Regarding the outstanding debt of three million dollars—"
"Let me stop you right there," I said, surprising myself with my steady voice. "I know exactly who you are and who sent you. I also know I don't owe you a penny."
"Ma'am, our records clearly show—"
"Your records show a forged document using a dead woman's signature. Do you know what the FBI calls that? Wire fraud. Mail fraud. Identity theft." I paused. "Oh, and destroying my office? That's criminal vandalism and racketeering."
A brief silence. "This seems to be a misunderstanding—"
"A misunderstanding that cost me a three-million-dollar contract with Bergmann Industries this morning," I continued, my confidence growing. "I'm sure your employers wouldn't want this... misunderstanding... becoming public. Especially if certain financial journalists started asking questions about Vegas-based debt collection agencies and their tactics."
"Ms. Harper—"
"I expect personal apologies and full restitution for damages to my office by tomorrow noon," I said firmly. "Otherwise, my next call is to the FBI's white-collar crime division. Do I make myself clear?"
"Crystal clear, ma'am. This was clearly a... system error. We'll be in touch tomorrow to resolve this issue."
I ended the call and leaned back against the leather seat, my hands shaking now that the conversation was over. The adrenaline crash left me feeling hollow and vulnerable. I hadn't realized how tightly I'd been gripping my phone until I felt the ache in my fingers.
"Change of destination," I told the driver. "My apartment first, then Manhattan. Central Park West."
At my apartment, I moved on autopilot, pulling ingredients from my cabinets. The methodical measuring, mixing, and shaping of chocolate chunk cookies gave my trembling hands purpose. It was ridiculous, really—making homemade cookies as a thank-you for a billionaire who probably had personal chefs. But I needed the ritual, needed to feel I was bringing something genuine of myself.
Forty minutes later, with the warm cookies carefully packed in a small paper bag, I headed back to the waiting Uber.
As we drove through evening traffic, I replayed this morning's events in my mind—Connor Kane cornering me in Devon's hallway, Devon appearing just in time. The way he'd stood between Connor and me, his voice ice-cold as he threatened his own brother.
I'd spent my life avoiding dependence on anyone. After watching my father surrender to Victoria's manipulation, I'd promised myself I'd never become so reliant on another person that I lost my identity. But New York's social elite played by different rules. Without powerful connections—without protection—I was vulnerable.
I glanced down at the small paper bag in my lap containing freshly baked chocolate chunk cookies. A peace offering? A thank you? I wasn't entirely sure anymore.
---
The private elevator opened directly into Devon's penthouse.
"Devon?" I called out, hearing only silence in response.
I placed the cookies on the kitchen counter and moved deeper into the apartment. Perhaps he wasn't home yet. I probably should have called first, but after the confrontation with Victoria and the debt collectors, I'd acted on impulse.
A soft sound drew me toward the master bedroom. The door was slightly ajar. Without thinking, I pushed it open.
"Devon, I hope you don't mind me stopping by, I wanted to—"
The words died in my throat.
Devon stood completely naked in the center of the room, his skin still glistening with moisture from the shower. The last rays of sunlight caressed his sculpted body, highlighting every perfect muscle. A single droplet of water traced a slow path down his abs, following the V-line that disappeared below his waist.
I froze, unable to look away, unable to breathe. Time seemed to stop as my eyes traveled the length of his body.
Devon made no move to cover himself. Instead, his lips curved into a subtle, knowing smile.
"Like what you see, Aria?" His voice was low, amused.
Heat flooded my face. I spun around, facing the door, my heart hammering against my ribs. "I'm sorry—I didn't—I should have called—"
Behind me, I heard the soft rustle of fabric as he unhurriedly dressed himself. The sounds only intensified my embarrassment, forcing me to imagine each movement.
"You can turn around now," Devon said after what felt like an eternity.
I turned slowly. He'd put on silk lounge pants but remained shirtless, his chest still damp. The casual display of skin seemed almost calculated, as if testing my reaction.
"That was quite an entrance," he said, running a hand through his wet hair. "I didn't expect company. Especially not after this morning's... incident with my brother."
"I wanted to thank you," I managed, fighting to keep my eyes on his face. "For intervening with Connor."
Devon studied me, his expression shifting from amusement to something more analytical. "Is that the only reason you're here, Aria? To thank me?"
I hesitated. "I brought cookies." The explanation sounded ridiculous even to my own ears.
"Cookies," he repeated, stepping closer. "You baked me cookies as a thank you for saving you from my psychopathic brother."
When he put it that way, my gesture seemed absurdly inadequate.
Devon reached out, taking my arm gently and guiding me to sit on the edge of his bed. The intimacy of the location wasn't lost on me. He remained standing, looking down at me with those penetrating gray eyes.
"I think we both know you're not here because of cookies or gratitude," he said softly. "You're here because you need protection. Your office was vandalized. Your family is plotting against you. And now loan sharks are threatening you."
My eyes widened. "How do you know about—"
"I make it my business to know things, Aria." He sat beside me, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from his skin. "I can help you with all of it. But first, you need to be honest—with me and with yourself."
"About what?" I whispered, though I already knew the answer.
Devon's hand moved to my chin, tilting my face up to meet his gaze. "About what you want from me. What you need from me."
The air between us seemed charged with electricity. I swallowed hard, caught between pride and desperation.
"I need you," I finally admitted, my voice barely audible.
A satisfied smile spread across Devon's face as his thumb brushed my lower lip. "That's a good start," he murmured. "I look forward to seeing what other truths you're brave enough to admit, Aria Harper."