Chapter 236
Aria's POV
I pushed the wheelchair into the elevator, the doors sliding shut behind us with a soft chime. The enclosed space amplified the awkward silence between us. I stole a glance at the girl's neck, where the "Ruby Tears Collection" necklace caught the elevator's light, sending crimson reflections dancing across the mirrored walls.
My chest tightened. That necklace—the very one Devon had paid ten million dollars for at last night's auction. Yet he'd given me diamonds instead.
Sophia caught my expression changing and shot me a questioning look. I gave a slight shake of my head, hoping she wouldn't press the issue.
The wheelchair girl removed her large sunglasses, revealing striking amber eyes that seemed oddly familiar.
"I'm Evelyn Smith," she said with a gentle smile. "You look familiar. Have we met before?"
"Aria Harper," I replied, maintaining my composure despite the storm brewing inside me. "I don't believe we've had the pleasure."
Her eyes widened slightly at my name before her expression settled back into a polite smile. "Thank you for your help. These old buildings aren't always accommodating."
The elevator reached our floor with a gentle bump. I nodded politely as Sophia and I stepped out, but Evelyn's voice stopped me.
"Perhaps we'll see each other again, Aria."
An hour later, Sophia and I were browsing at Tiffany & Co.'s Fifth Avenue flagship store when I spotted Evelyn again. She was examining a display of men's cufflinks, her wheelchair positioned perfectly under the soft, flattering lights.
When she saw me, she waved enthusiastically, as if we were old friends. "Aria! What perfect timing."
I approached cautiously, Sophia trailing behind.
"I need a man's opinion, and you seem to have excellent taste," Evelyn said, gesturing to the display. "It's for someone special—a birthday gift for the person who's been protecting me all these years."
The way she said it carried weight, like she was sharing a precious secret.
"What's his style like?" I asked, slipping into the conversation despite my reservations.
"Classic, elegant. He wears a lot of custom suits—navy or charcoal, typically. Nothing flashy, but everything expensive." Her description matched Devon perfectly.
I pointed to a pair of sapphire cufflinks with platinum settings. "These would complement navy suits beautifully."
"They're perfect," she exclaimed, her eyes lighting up. "You have an uncanny insight, Aria." The way she used my nickname, shortened as Devon often did, made my stomach clench.
"Would you like to grab lunch?" Evelyn asked suddenly. "I'd love to chat more."
"I'm afraid I have meetings back at the office," I lied, unable to bear spending more time with this woman who seemed to know Devon intimately enough to receive a ten-million-dollar necklace. "But thank you for the invitation."
In the underground parking garage, Sophia and I were heading toward my car when I froze mid-step.
Devon was there, approaching a black Bentley where Evelyn sat waiting. His face—usually so controlled, so masked—wore an expression I'd never seen before: pure tenderness. He lifted Evelyn from her wheelchair with gentle movements, carefully setting her in the passenger seat before folding the wheelchair and placing it in the trunk.
"You shouldn't be out alone," I heard him scold, but his voice lacked its usual edge. "It's not good for your health."
Evelyn's laugh floated across the garage. "Don't be such a worrier, Devon." Then she spotted me. "Aria! Look who I found! This is Devon, and those cufflinks you helped me pick are for his birthday!"
Devon turned sharply, his expression transforming from tender care to something complex and unreadable. Our eyes locked for a long moment before he leaned toward Evelyn, saying something I couldn't hear. Then he instructed Marcus, who appeared from nowhere, to take Evelyn home.
With determined strides, Devon approached me. My heart hammered in my chest, a confusing mixture of jealousy, hurt, and anticipation making it difficult to breathe.
"I'll catch an Uber," Sophia murmured, squeezing my arm before slipping away.
Devon reached me, his presence filling the space between us with tension. Without a word, he opened my car door—the passenger side.
"I'm driving," he stated, his tone leaving no room for argument.
---
Inside the car, Devon's knuckles turned white against the steering wheel. The silence stretched between us, electric and dangerous.
"How do you know Evelyn?" he finally asked, eyes fixed on the road.
"I don't," I replied coolly. "We met in the elevator today. Why did you give her the ruby necklace from the auction but give me diamonds?"
Devon's jaw tightened. I watched a muscle tick in his cheek. "Evelyn is important to me," he said after a long pause. "But not in the way you're thinking."
"Which way am I thinking?" I challenged, turning to face him fully.
"She's..." he hesitated, something rare for Devon Kane. "She's different from other people in my life. That's all you need to know."
His dismissiveness stung. "So much for honesty between us," I muttered, turning to look out the window.
Devon reached over, his fingertips brushing my chin as he turned my face back toward him. "This doesn't affect our arrangement, Aria." His voice had softened, but I caught the hurt in his eyes before he masked it.
I didn't respond, choosing instead to stare blankly ahead. Devon sighed, then said something that immediately captured my full attention:
"I found Victoria."
---
Eden looked different tonight. Devon led me past the opulent main floor with its crystal chandeliers and plush lounges, through a door marked "Private," and down a narrow staircase I'd never noticed before.
The lower level bore no resemblance to the luxury above. Concrete walls, stark lighting, and a series of metal doors lined the corridor. Devon placed his palm on a scanner beside one of them, and it slid open with a soft hiss.
Inside, Victoria sat handcuffed to a metal chair. Her usually perfect appearance was disheveled—mascara smudged beneath her eyes, her designer outfit wrinkled and stained. When she saw me, hatred flashed across her face.
"Look who's finally come to gloat," she spat. "Daddy's little princess, always hiding behind men."
I kept my expression neutral. "Where have you been, Victoria? Father's been looking everywhere for you."
She laughed bitterly. "As if you care. You're the one who engineered this whole situation."
I stepped closer, studying her face. "Did you have something to do with my mother's death?"
Victoria's eyes widened slightly before narrowing again. "Your mother was sick. Cancer, remember? Or has your vengeful little mind constructed some elaborate conspiracy?"
But I caught the slight shift in her posture, the way her hand instinctively moved to protect something beneath her blouse. Devon noticed it too.
I turned to him, running my fingers lightly down his tie. "Can you help me get whatever she's hiding?"
Devon's eyes darkened. He nodded to Lucas, who stood guard by the door. "Take care of Ms. Victoria. Make sure she's comfortable... enough."
He took my elbow, guiding me out of the room. "She'll talk," he murmured as the door shut behind us. "My methods are more persuasive than questions."
---
Back in Eden's main section, Devon led me to a private VIP booth. The contrast between the underground chamber and this world of luxury and music was jarring.
Across the room, I spotted Noah Pierce engaged in what appeared to be an intimate conversation with a blonde woman. Despite their physical proximity, his eyes seemed distant, unfocused.
"Noah and Caroline are having... difficulties," Devon explained, following my gaze. "Their engagement announcement is imminent, but things between them are strained."
I nodded absently, my mind still reeling from the confrontation with Victoria and the mystery of Evelyn. How many women were in Devon's life? What was his relationship with Evelyn that warranted such an expensive gift? Would he ever explain anything to me, or was I just expected to accept his secrets while sharing all of mine?
I reached for a champagne flute, needing something to steady my nerves.
Devon's hand shot out, grasping my wrist firmly. "Your shoulder injury. No alcohol while you're on medication."
His tone was commanding, but his eyes held something I rarely saw there—genuine concern. My wrist tingled where his fingers encircled it. Devon's thumb moved slightly, rubbing small circles against my pulse point, the gesture almost unconscious.
"I worry about you, Aria," he said, his voice so low I almost missed it over the music. His gaze was intense, searching, as if trying to see through me, into me.
I excused myself to use the restroom, needing a moment alone to process everything. As I rounded the corner in the hallway, I collided with a tall figure.
"I'm sorry," I began automatically, then froze as I recognized him—Felix Shaw from the auction.
His smile was slow, calculated. "Aria Harper, isn't it?" He studied me with uncomfortable intensity. "I thought it was you."