Chapter 279
Aria's POV
The glass doors of Harper Group's headquarters slid open at exactly 1:45 PM, and I stepped into the marble lobby with my chin raised, shoulders squared. The click of my Louboutins echoed through the atrium—a sound that used to announce my arrival with authority. Now it felt like a gunshot in a library.
The receptionist behind the desk looked up, and her practiced smile flickered. Just for a second. But I saw it.
"Miss Harper," she said, her voice professionally warm. "Good afternoon."
I nodded, moving toward the elevator bank. But I caught the glance she exchanged with her colleague—a look that mixed surprise with something softer. Pity, maybe.
My stomach tightened. Not now. I pressed a hand briefly to my abdomen, a habit I'd developed in the past week since learning about the baby. Six weeks along. Six weeks of a secret that Devon didn't fully grasp the weight of, that my father would weaponize, that the world would judge me for.
The elevator doors opened, and three employees from Marketing stepped out. They saw me and went silent mid-conversation.
"Miss Harper."
"Good afternoon."
Polite nods. Averted eyes. The kind of careful distance people maintain around someone they're not sure will still be their boss tomorrow.
I stepped into the elevator alone, watching my reflection in the polished steel doors as they closed. My burgundy sheath dress was immaculate, my hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail. I looked every inch the executive I'd fought to become. But beneath the armor, my pulse hammered against my ribs.
"This is your mother's legacy," I reminded myself. "Don't let them take it."
---
The executive floor was quieter than usual. My office door still bore my nameplate, but when I pushed it open, I found my desk buried under manila folders and contract binders. Three weeks of backlog. My assistant's desk sat empty.
"Miss Harper."
I turned to find Anna hurrying down the hallway, tablet clutched to her chest. Her expression was complicated—relief mixed with anxiety.
"You're here," she said, slightly breathless. "Mr. Harper has been waiting. He said to send you to his office immediately."
Of course he had.
I set my bag on the visitor's chair and smoothed my dress. "How bad is it?"
Anna's eyes darted to the closed doors of nearby offices. "The board meeting was... tense. There's been talk about operational disruption. About accountability." She lowered her voice. "Some people think you've abandoned your position."
"Because I nearly died in a car accident?" The words came out sharper than I intended.
"I know." Anna's face softened with sympathy. "But there are procedures. Medical leave forms. Documentation. You didn't—"
"I didn't have time to file paperwork while I was unconscious in a hospital bed." I drew a breath, forcing my voice back to professional calm. "Thank you, Anna. I'll handle this."
I walked down the corridor toward my father's corner office, each step measured and deliberate. Through the glass walls of conference rooms, I saw colleagues glance up from their laptops, their expressions carefully neutral. The Harper Group empire my mother had helped build felt like foreign territory now.
"You belong here," I told myself. "This is yours by right."
I knocked twice on my father's door and entered without waiting for permission.
---
William Harper sat behind his massive mahogany desk, silhouetted against floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Manhattan. He looked older than I remembered—more gray at the temples, deeper lines around his mouth. For a fleeting second, something that might have been relief crossed his face when he saw me.
Then it was gone, replaced by his boardroom mask.
"Aria." He stood, buttoning his suit jacket. "I wasn't certain you'd come."
"You didn't leave me much choice." I remained standing, my hands folded in front of me. "You threatened my position."
"The board threatened your position," he corrected, gesturing to the chair across from his desk. "I'm simply the messenger."
I didn't sit. "Is that what we're calling it now?"
His jaw tightened. "You've been absent for three weeks, Aria. No communication with your team. No transition plan. No medical documentation. The board has every right to question your commitment."
"My commitment?" The word tasted bitter. "I was in a car accident. I nearly died. Or did you miss that detail?"
"I didn't miss it." His voice softened, just slightly. "But this is a business. We can't simply pause operations because—"
"Because what? Because your daughter was almost killed?" I stepped closer to his desk, my pulse quickening. "Tell me, Father—who called this emergency board meeting? Who suggested I be removed?"
The pause told me everything.
"You," I said flatly. "Of course."
William's hand moved to the crystal tumbler on his desk, but he didn't drink. "What matters now is getting you back on track. You need to review these contracts"—he gestured to a stack of folders—"and present a status update to the board tomorrow morning. If you can demonstrate you're still capable—"
"Capable?" My voice rose despite my efforts to control it. "I've brought in more revenue this quarter than anyone else in this building. I've secured partnerships Victoria couldn't touch. And you're questioning my capability?"
"The board is questioning it," he said. "Not me."
"Liar." The word hung between us like a slap. "You could have stopped this. You could have defended me. But you didn't."
His face flushed red. "You will not speak to me—"
The door opened.
We both turned. Anna stood in the doorway, her face pale as paper.
"Mr. Harper, I'm so sorry, but there's—"
She didn't finish. A man in an impeccable charcoal suit stepped past her into the office, followed by two broad-shouldered men in dark glasses.
James.
The Kane family's butler—no, their enforcer—moved with the quiet confidence of someone who'd never been denied entrance anywhere. His silver hair was perfectly styled, his expression pleasantly neutral. But his eyes were cold calculation.
"Mr. Harper." James inclined his head in a slight bow. "Miss Harper. I hope I'm not interrupting."