Chapter 135
Devon's POV
The elevator doors closed behind me as I left the tea house. The acquisition had gone exactly as planned—another chess piece positioned perfectly on the board.
"Sir, about the Harper acquisition," Marcus said as he joined me in the elevator, "the board is asking questions."
"Let them ask," I replied dismissively. "Tell them it's a personal investment."
I straightened my cuff links, mentally reviewing the next steps in my schedule. The Harper Group purchase was merely a means to an end—40% ownership gave me enough leverage without triggering regulatory scrutiny. William Harper hadn't even realized who the actual buyer was, which suited my purposes perfectly.
As we reached the lobby, my phone rang. Marcus answered it while I maintained my composure, watching the slight shift in his expression with practiced attention.
"Mr. Kane," Marcus said, dropping his voice to a near-whisper as he approached. "There's a situation. The team sent to pick up our client says they couldn't reach him. He was intercepted by a group of men who came prepared. They've taken him."
"How would they know our client's location?" I asked sharply. The answer materialized before I even finished the question. "Someone is feeding information to him."
"Sir?" Marcus questioned, not following my train of thought.
"Find out who in our organization has any connection to Connor Kane," I ordered. My brother's interference was becoming more than a nuisance—it was now a direct threat to my operations. "This has his fingerprints all over it."
I checked my watch, making a quick mental calculation of the time needed to resolve this situation. This would require my personal attention. My brother had always been reckless, but kidnapping a client crossed a line even for him.
"Go to my collection room. Bring the gun," I instructed, my voice level despite the gravity of what I was ordering.
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Aria's POV
The cool night air brushed against my face as I stepped out of the Uber, my eyes fixed on the imposing marble facade of the Harper family mansion. I clutched my purse tightly, feeling the outline of the legal documents Devon had given me. Forty percent of Harper Group shares now belonged to him, but with a clear path for me to regain control.
For the first time in years, I felt a sense of power coursing through my veins. The documents represented more than just business—they were my chance to reclaim what was rightfully mine and, more importantly, to finally get justice for my mother.
I paused at the bottom of the wide marble steps, gazing up at the mansion that once held so many happy memories. "When I get justice for Mom, this place will feel warm again," I whispered to myself, deciding to keep quiet about Devon's acquisition for now. Information was power, and I'd learned not to show my hand too early.
As I made my way through the grand foyer, voices drifted from my father's study. I slowed my steps, recognizing Victoria's anxious tone.
"William, has the crisis at Harper Group really been resolved? I noticed the stock price rebounded today."
I stopped just outside the partially open oak door, my breath held.
"Yes, dear. Everything's under control," my father's deep voice replied.
Victoria was sitting at the edge of his desk, wearing a silky nightgown that left little to the imagination. "Don't forget your promise," she purred. "Scarlett needs a new apartment. Aria already got back the Hampton beach house, while our daughter has nothing."
My father nodded tiredly. "I know, Victoria. I've put you and Scarlett through so much these past years. I'll contact the real estate agent tomorrow."
A flash of triumph crossed Victoria's face before she pushed further. "And what about the company? I think Scarlett should be appointed Vice President."
My father's brow furrowed. "That position is already filled... and besides, she's hardly ever home these days. I don't know what she's been up to."
I deliberately let my handbag knock against the door, creating a loud thud. Both heads snapped toward the entrance.
"Oh, Aria!" Victoria's voice instantly transformed into honeyed sweetness. "We didn't hear you come in."
"Clearly," I replied coolly.
After Victoria glided past me with a perfect smile, I watched from around the corner as her expression immediately collapsed, her mouth turning downward in unmistakable resentment.
Back in my bedroom, I opened my laptop and sent an encrypted email to Diana Thornton, the Human Resources Director at Harper Group and my mother's old friend.
"Diana, I need complete personnel files, the last six months of project reports, and board meeting minutes. Encrypted, please."
Minutes later, my phone pinged with her reply: "My God, Aria! Are you finally coming back to work at the company?"
I smiled to myself as I typed: "I'll give you a surprise on Monday, Diana. Be ready to watch Victoria's face."
Opening the company files Diana sent, I turned on Spotify, playing the classical music my mother had loved. For the next few hours, I meticulously analyzed every report and data point, making detailed notes until Aisha knocked gently to announce dinner.
The dining room sparkled under crystal chandeliers. Victoria held court at one end of the table, my father at the other. Scarlett was already seated, looking angelic in a white dress that contrasted sharply with her calculating eyes.
"Darling, have some more lobster salad," Victoria said to Scarlett, passing the silver serving dish. "You've been working so hard at the company lately." Her gaze slid meaningfully to me. "Unlike some people who are busy with... who knows what."
To everyone's surprise, I smiled pleasantly and reached across to serve Scarlett some truffle pasta.
"Try this, Scarlett. It's made with special sauce," I said sweetly.
My father nearly dropped his wine glass in shock, while Scarlett eyed me suspiciously.
When the conversation turned to company business, I casually remarked, "By the way, Victoria, did you know? Ryan told me he saw Scarlett at 2 a.m. last night in the VIP section of that club downtown, getting quite cozy with a very familiar-looking gentleman. Working so hard for the company, indeed. You should definitely eat more to keep up your strength."
The color drained from Scarlett's face, and her fork clattered against the fine china. My father slammed down his wine glass, his eyes flashing.
"What man? Who was it?" he demanded.
Victoria rushed to intervene. "William, I'm sure Ryan was mistaken—"
"Was he?" I asked innocently, taking a sip of wine while maintaining eye contact with Scarlett, whose expression had transformed from shock to something close to fear.
"Who was this man?" my father repeated, his voice dangerously low.