Chapter 278
Aria's POV
The sunlight streaming through Devon's floor-to-ceiling windows felt more like a spotlight on my cage than a blessing. I blinked against the brightness, disoriented for a moment before reality crashed back—Devon's penthouse, his arms around me from last night, his scent still clinging to my skin.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand. Again.
I reached for it, careful not to wake Devon, but my fingers touched only cool sheets. He was already gone. Of course he was. Whatever business had pulled him away in the early hours, he'd left me here. Protected. Imprisoned.
Seven missed calls. All from Harper Group's office line or my father's private number.
A knock on the bedroom door made me flinch. "Miss Harper?" Lucas's voice carried that apologetic edge he'd perfected over the past three weeks. "Breakfast is ready. Third reminder."
Three times. They'd knocked three times while I'd slept like the dead, exhausted from carrying a secret that grew heavier every day.
I pushed myself up, ignoring the way my stomach rolled in protest. "Coming."
The shower helped clear my head, but not my conscience. I stood under the spray, watching water circle the drain, and thought about all the calls I hadn't answered. My company. My position. My mother's legacy, slipping through my fingers while I played house in a gilded cage.
"I'm not a prisoner," I told myself, gripping the marble countertop until my knuckles turned white. "I'm just... protected. But my company? My career? What happens when there's nothing left to protect?"
My phone rang again as I was drying off. William Harper's name flashed across the screen—the eighth call today.
My hand hovered over the decline button. Then I thought of my mother, of the afternoons she'd spent teaching me about brand strategy and market positioning, her elegant fingers pointing at spreadsheets while sunlight caught the diamonds on her wedding band.
"Harper Group is yours," she'd said. "Never let anyone take what's yours."
I answered. "Yes?"
"Aria." My father's voice carried none of its usual warmth—not that there'd been much lately. "The board met this morning. We need to discuss your position."
I pressed the phone tighter to my ear, my pulse quickening. "My position?"
"You've been absent for three weeks. No work handoff. No leave request. No communication with your team." He paused, and I could picture him in his office, that disapproving furrow between his brows. "The board considers this a serious dereliction of duty."
"I was in an accident!" The words came out sharper than I intended. "I nearly died. I'm still recovering—"
"Then you should have submitted medical documentation. Filed for medical leave. Followed protocol." His tone remained flat, businesslike. As if I were a stranger instead of his daughter. "You didn't. You simply... vanished."
I moved to the window, looking out at Manhattan's skyline. Below, people rushed to work, to meetings, to lives that hadn't been hijacked by circumstances beyond their control.
"Is this what you want?" I asked quietly. "Or is this Victoria's idea?"
The silence on the other end told me everything.
"This is a board decision, Aria. You can believe that or not—your choice. But the fact remains: Harper Group can't stop functioning because of your personal life." He drew a breath. "The board has given you a final opportunity. Be in the office by two PM today. Otherwise, tomorrow's meeting will include a vote to remove you from your position as Vice President."
My fingers curled against the glass, leaving faint prints on the pristine surface. "And let me guess—if I'm removed, Victoria will suggest Scarlett as my replacement?"
"What matters is that someone fills the role." His voice softened, just slightly. "This is your mother's legacy, Aria. Are you really going to throw it away?"
The words hit harder than any slap. I saw my mother's face in my mind—her smile as she'd introduced me to the staff, her pride when I'd closed my first major account, her hand squeezing mine the last time I'd visited her in the hospital.
"Don't let them take this from you," she'd whispered, so weak I'd had to lean close to hear. "Promise me."
"Two PM," I said. "I'll be there."
I hung up before he could respond, before he could hear the tremor in my voice.
My hands shook as I set the phone down. Two PM. That gave me less than three hours to figure out how to escape Devon's fortress and reach Harper Group without triggering every alarm he'd installed to keep me safe.
Or keep me controlled.
The distinction felt increasingly blurry.
I stepped onto the balcony, grateful for the cool air against my flushed skin. Below me, the city pulsed with life and possibility. Freedom. From up here, I could see the emergency fire escape that connected to the floor below—a route I'd noticed days ago but never seriously considered.
Until now.
"I should tell Devon," I thought, wrapping my arms around myself. "Call him. Explain. Ask permission."
But I already knew what he'd say. "Too dangerous. Not until we find who tried to kill you. Stay where you're safe."
Safe. The word had started to feel like a noose.
"But this is my career," I whispered to the empty air, one hand drifting to my still-flat stomach. "This is what Mom left me. I can't just... give up."
I watched the street below for another moment, then turned and went back inside. Lucas would leave for his shift change in forty-five minutes. Roman did his rounds every hour on the hour.
I had a window. A narrow one.
All I needed was the courage to jump through it.
---
At 1:15 PM, I stood in Devon's bedroom, dressed in a navy power suit that made me feel more like myself than I had in weeks. The pencil skirt hugged my hips, the blazer sharp and professional. Black Louboutins—because if I was going to face down a board trying to steal my position, I'd do it in armor.
I'd told Lucas I needed a nap after lunch. Wouldn't want to be disturbed. He'd nodded, sympathetic, probably thinking about the pregnancy he didn't know about but Devon had certainly told him to accommodate.
Now, with my laptop bag packed and my mother's pearl earrings in place, I slipped out of the bedroom and moved silently toward the emergency exit door. My heart hammered against my ribs. Every step felt like a betrayal.
"I'm sorry," I thought, though I wasn't sure if I was apologizing to Devon or to myself. "But I have to do this."
The stairwell door opened with barely a whisper. I'd oiled the hinges yesterday while Devon was out—a precaution I'd hoped I wouldn't need. The concrete steps felt cold even through my shoes as I descended to the forty-first floor, where a maintenance door led to an outdoor terrace.
The lock was electronic, but Sophia had taught me a trick back in college—a bobby pin and the right amount of pressure, and...
Click.
I was through.
The elevator bank on this floor was blessedly empty. I smoothed my suit, adjusted my bag, and pressed the button for the lobby. When the doors opened on the ground floor, I stepped into a crowd of people in business attire—some conference or meeting letting out—and simply let the current carry me toward the exit.
No one stopped me. No one even looked twice.
Outside, the afternoon sun felt like absolution. I flagged a taxi, gave the driver Harper Group's address, and tried to ignore the way my phone buzzed in my bag.
Devon's message appeared on the screen: "Afternoon meeting might run late. Stay home. Be good."
My thumb hovered over the keyboard. I should tell him. I should explain. I should—
"I'll be fine," I typed back. "Don't worry about me."
Then I turned off my location services and tucked the phone away.
The taxi merged into traffic, and I watched the buildings blur past, my reflection ghostly in the window. I thought about the last time my mother had brought me to Harper Group's headquarters, how she'd walked me through every department, introducing me to people who'd become colleagues, mentors, rivals.
"This will be yours someday," she'd said, her hand warm on my shoulder. "All of it. Your legacy."
Not if my father and Victoria had their way. Not if I let them steal what was mine while I hid in Devon's penthouse like some kept woman.
I gripped my bag tighter, feeling the weight of my laptop, my files, my proof of three years of hard work and dedication.
"I won't let them win," I whispered to my reflection. "This is my battlefield. And I'm done hiding."