Chapter 173
Aria's POV
I heard Devon giving Marcus instructions about Owen before drifting back to sleep. When I woke again, sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, and it was nearly ten in the morning. The penthouse was quiet and empty, the space beside me on the bed showing no sign of Devon—the sheets cool to the touch. He had been gone for some time.
A strange emptiness settled in my chest. I hadn't expected to feel disappointed by his absence. Running my fingers over the spot where he'd slept, I forced myself to remember that this was nothing more than an arrangement between us.
In the bathroom, I found new toiletries arranged neatly on the counter—my preferred brands of face wash, moisturizer, and even the exact shade of lipstick I favored. A bottle of ibuprofen sat next to a glass of water, thoughtfully placed for the soreness I now felt. On a chair in the bedroom hung a distinctive dress—deep burgundy with subtle asymmetric details that would perfectly complement my figure.
My stomach tightened. Devon knowing my preferences with such precision unsettled me. I picked up the lipstick, examining the exact shade I always wore. No one had ever paid such close attention to these details about me—not even Ethan during our years together. This silent care made my heart race in a way I didn't want to acknowledge.
I swallowed the painkillers and dressed quickly, examining myself in the mirror. The woman who stared back looked both familiar and strange—my features were the same, but something in my eyes had changed. A vulnerability I'd never allowed myself to show before. I blinked hard, trying to regain my composure. Was I becoming dependent on Devon? The thought sent a chill through me, followed immediately by a warmth I couldn't explain.
When I emerged from the bedroom, I found Marcus waiting outside the door, his posture rigid and professional.
"Mr. Kane asked me to ensure you arrived home safely," Marcus said formally.
I nodded, not trusting my voice. In the elevator, I caught him studying me with curious eyes before quickly looking away. The silence between us felt heavy with unspoken questions.
As the elevator descended, my thoughts raced. What had begun as a simple arrangement had evolved into something I couldn't control. Devon's possessiveness last night, his declaration that I was "his woman," had stirred something primal within me—a desire to be claimed that frightened me with its intensity.
---
When I arrived at the Harper family mansion, Elsa opened the door with visible relief washing over her face.
"Miss Aria, thank goodness." Her eyes widened slightly as they fixed on a point at my neck, and I instinctively raised my hand to cover the mark Devon had left there. Elsa's expression shifted from relief to worry, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I was beginning to worry."
"Is everything alright, Elsa?" I asked, trying to redirect her attention.
She glanced nervously over her shoulder, then leaned closer. "Your father has been... handling Ms. Victoria in the basement since last night." Her voice trembled. "It doesn't sound good. The screaming stopped hours ago."
My stomach clenched, a mix of satisfaction and unease washing over me. "Handling?"
"I'm afraid the mistress might not last the day," Elsa whispered, fear evident in her eyes. "The police will ask questions if..."
I felt a cold resolve settle over me. "She can't die in the Harper house. Especially not now."
With determined steps, I headed toward the basement door. My heart hammered against my ribs, but my face remained impassive. The house felt unnaturally quiet, each step I took echoing in the silence. The staircase leading down was poorly lit, the wooden steps creaking under my weight as I descended into the damp chill of the basement.
The scene that greeted me made my breath catch. Victoria was chained to a metal storage rack in the corner, her designer clothes torn and stained with what looked like blood and dirt. Her carefully maintained appearance was destroyed—mascara streaked down her cheeks, hair matted with sweat, split lip swollen and crusted with dried blood. A thin shiver ran through her slumped form as the cold air from the open door reached her.
Victoria's head snapped up at my approach, her eyes narrowing with pure hatred despite her weakened state. "The scheming bitch herself. Satisfied?" she spat, her voice hoarse from screaming.
I kept my face neutral as I studied her, though my heart raced with conflicting emotions. The woman who had tormented me for years, who had stolen my father and possibly poisoned my mother, was now reduced to this pitiful state. A part of me wanted to smile, to savor this moment, while another part recoiled at the brutality.
"This was your own doing, Victoria," I said evenly, surprised by the steadiness in my voice.
Her cracked lips twisted into a snarl. "Your father has lost his mind," she hissed, wincing as she shifted position. "He thinks I tried to kill him with the same poison I supposedly used on your mother." Her bloodshot eyes bore into mine. "Is that what you told him? Is that the lie you whispered in his ear?"
I moved closer, my heels clicking against the concrete floor, echoing in the cold space between us. Each step increased the tension, Victoria's eyes tracking me like a wounded animal watching a predator approach.
"I can convince him to let you go to the police station," I said quietly. "Turn yourself in, and he might be merciful."
Victoria's laugh was brittle, ending in a pained cough. "You're insane! I haven't broken any laws!" Her voice rose, tinged with desperation. "You can't prove anything!"
I pulled my phone from my pocket, watching her eyes widen as I showed her the screen. On it was a detailed record of her visits to my mother during her illness, alongside my mother's medication schedule. The correlation was damning.
"Are you certain about that?" I asked softly.
Her face paled visibly, blood draining from her already ashen cheeks. She swallowed hard, her throat working painfully. "Where did you get that?" she whispered.
"I have my sources," I replied, feeling a surge of power as I watched fear replace defiance in her eyes. "About my mother's death... I know more than you think."
Victoria stared at me, genuine terror flickering across her face for the first time. Her breathing quickened, shallow and panicked. "What do you know?" she whispered, then caught herself, forcing her shoulders to straighten despite the chains. "It doesn't matter. You have no concrete evidence. Nothing that would hold up in court."
I slipped my phone back into my pocket, the weight of it against my thigh reassuring. Power was shifting, I could feel it in the air between us. Without a word, I turned to leave.
Victoria's voice rose frantically behind me, the chains rattling as she strained against them. "You can't just leave me here! Your father will kill me!" Raw panic filled her words. "Aria! Please!"
At the foot of the stairs, I paused to look back at her. Her pleading eyes met mine, tears cutting clean tracks through the grime on her cheeks. The mighty Victoria Harper, reduced to begging the stepdaughter she had always despised.
"Make sure she stays alive," I instructed the guard positioned discreetly in the shadows. "But don't make her too comfortable."