Chapter 180
Aria's POV
Marcus's words lingered in my mind: Devon had held Marianne at gunpoint, demanding my whereabouts. The thought sent an unexpected flutter through my chest, followed immediately by confusion. Why hadn't he responded to my thank-you text?
"We're here, Ms. Harper," Marcus announced as we arrived at my father's Upper East Side mansion.
I hadn't planned to return home so soon after the kidnapping, but something compelled me to face whatever awaited inside these walls. The familiar weight of dread settled in my stomach as I climbed the steps.
Elsa Rodriguez opened the door, her usually composed features marred with worry. "Miss Aria," she whispered, glancing nervously over her shoulder. "I'm glad you're safe."
"What's wrong, Elsa?" I asked, noticing how she wrung her hands—a gesture I'd seen countless times during my childhood whenever something troubled her.
"It's Mrs. Harper... your father took her to the basement last night." Her voice dropped even lower. "There was screaming, then silence. Mr. Harper spent the night drinking whiskey in his study, and this morning..." She hesitated. "This morning, she was carried out."
My mouth fell open. My heart seemed to stop, then restart with painful intensity. "Carried out? You mean—"
"I don't know for certain, but Mr. Harper has been making calls about 'permanent solutions' all morning."
I gripped the wall for support, my knees suddenly weak. My father had actually—no, he couldn't have. Victoria was manipulative, conniving, possibly even criminal, but to kill her? My breath came in short gasps as I tried to process this information.
"That's impossible," I finally managed, my voice barely audible. "He wouldn't risk everything. Victoria is too visible, too connected." Even as I said the words, I wasn't sure if I was trying to convince Elsa or myself.
"I only know what I saw, Miss Aria," Elsa replied, her eyes downcast. "The men who carried her weren't gentle."
In my bedroom, I sat heavily on the edge of my bed, staring at my mother's photograph on the nightstand. Her gentle smile seemed to pierce through me, asking if this was the justice I'd sought. My fingers trembled as I touched the frame. I'd wanted Victoria to pay for what she did to my mother, for stealing her home, for possibly poisoning her—but not like this. Never like this.
"This has gone too far," I whispered to my mother's image, my voice cracking with emotion. "The Blakes are where it all connects—Marianne's desperation, Ethan's manipulation, their family secrets." My resolve hardened as I reached for my phone and dialed Garrett Morgan.
"Ms. Harper," his gruff voice answered. "How can I help?"
"I need everything on the Blake family," I said, my voice steadier now. "Financial records, Ethan's personal history, Marianne's social circles—everything. I'll pay triple your usual rate, but I need results in three days."
"Consider it done," he replied. "Let's meet tomorrow to discuss specifics."
---
The following day, I chose a simple navy pantsuit for my meeting with Garrett. The discreet café in Brooklyn was nearly empty when I arrived, perfect for our sensitive discussion.
"The Blakes have been liquidating assets quietly," Garrett explained, sliding a folder across the table.
I nodded, taking the folder. "This might be the clue we need. I hope you can conduct an in-depth investigation into their financial situation and all other developments."
"I'll get my contact at the bank to pull those records," Garrett assured me, finishing his coffee. "Three days, as requested."
"Perfect." I gathered my belongings as we concluded our meeting. "Let's go."
We stood and made our way toward the exit. Just as we reached the door, it swung open, revealing Chloe Parker and Mandy Stevens. My stomach knotted instantly as Chloe's face transformed into a vicious smile, the kind reserved for delivering calculated social wounds.
"Well, if it isn't Aria Harper," Chloe's voice dripped with disdain as she blocked our path.
I kept my expression neutral, though I could feel heat rising to my cheeks. "Chloe. Recovered from being escorted out of Eden by security the other night? I heard it took three men to remove you."
Her smile faltered momentarily, her cheeks flushing. I'd hit a nerve.
"At least I was invited in the first place," she snapped back, though the blush creeping up her neck betrayed her embarrassment.
"Oh, and this is Mandy Stevens—just returned to New York," Chloe quickly pivoted, her eyes gleaming with renewed malice. "Eleanor Kane's personal pick for Devon's future wife."
My heart sank at the words "future wife," but I forced myself to maintain eye contact with Mandy. She was beautiful in an effortless way—slim, blonde, with sharp blue eyes that assessed me like I was an obstacle to be removed.
Mandy's smile didn't reach her eyes as she extended her hand. "We've met twice now, Chloe. Last time, Aria was playing Devon's driver. Nice handling skills, by the way."
Chloe snickered, regaining her confidence at my expense. I felt my face grow hot with humiliation, but I straightened my shoulders, refusing to show weakness.
"Perhaps you'd join me for coffee?" Mandy suggested. Her tone was friendly, but her eyes remained cold as she gestured to two large men standing nearby outside the café windows. "I have so much to discuss with you, Aria. If you're unwilling, my security might need to... assist you to the café."
I felt Garrett tense beside me. My throat went dry. The threat was clear beneath the veneer of social politeness. Looking at Mandy—her perfect blonde hair, her designer outfit, her position as Devon's mother-approved future wife—I realized I'd stumbled into a power play I hadn't anticipated.
My mind raced through my options. Every instinct told me to refuse, to walk away, but the two men watching us made that impossible. Their presence wasn't subtle—they were a message. Mandy had come prepared for resistance.
"One coffee," I agreed, my voice steady despite the rapid beating of my heart. "I'm sure we have plenty to discuss."
Mandy's perfectly manicured hand rested possessively on my arm as she guided me back inside the café, her grip just tight enough to communicate control. Her nails dug slightly into my skin.
"I've been looking forward to this chat for quite some time," she whispered, close enough that only I could hear. "Let's discuss your... arrangement with my fiancé."