Chapter 6
Aria's POV
I fled from my father's Upper East Side mansion and returned to my Brooklyn apartment, seeking refuge from the chaos. Once inside my safe haven, I stared at my mother's smiling face, her eyes bright with life in the photograph that took center stage on my living room wall. In the stillness, I finally let the tears fall. The perfect Elizabeth Harper—the woman whose legacy I could never seem to live up to, whose absence left a void that my father's new family had been eager to fill.
"I'm sorry, Mom," I whispered, gently touching the frame. "I'm making such a mess of everything."
My cheek still stung from my father's slap, but the physical pain paled compared to the humiliation of being struck in front of Ethan and Scarlett. Five years after my mother's death, and the Harper household had become unrecognizable. The home that once held laughter and warmth now felt like a battleground where I was perpetually outnumbered.
My phone buzzed with an incoming call. I expected it to be Sophia checking on me after our grueling day of revisions, but Ryan Winters' name flashed on the screen instead. My childhood neighbor and longtime friend wasn't someone I spoke to regularly these days, but his timing was impeccable.
"Hey, stranger," I answered, trying to mask the tremor in my voice.
"Aria Harper! Please tell me you're free tonight," Ryan's voice boomed through the speaker with infectious enthusiasm. "I've got a potential client who's perfect for Stellar Impressions—big budget, looking for something fresh. They specifically asked about boutique agencies."
I straightened up immediately. "Seriously? Who is it?"
"A luxury accessories brand looking to reposition. They'll be at Blue Sapphire tonight. I can introduce you if you come out."
Under normal circumstances, I might have insisted on a proper meeting at our office, but after today's disaster with my family and the looming financial pressure Sophia had outlined, I was desperate.
"What time?" I asked, already moving toward my closet.
"Meet me there at nine. Wear something that screams 'I'm successful and worth every penny.' I told them you're the best in the business."
After hanging up, I surveyed my closet with determination. Tonight called for armor, not just clothes. I selected a crimson slip dress with delicate straps that crossed at the back—bold enough to command attention but sophisticated enough for business networking. I paired it with black stilettos and silver statement earrings that had been my mother's.
As I applied my makeup with careful precision, covering the faint redness on my cheek, I caught myself thinking about Devon Kane's penetrating gaze during our meeting. His criticism had been cutting but accurate. I needed this new client, not just to avoid crawling back to my father, but to prove to Devon that Stellar Impressions deserved his contract.
By eight-thirty, I was in a cab heading toward Manhattan, my professional portfolio tucked into a sleek black clutch. The double hit of professional and personal crises had left me raw, and I welcomed the prospect of channeling my energy into something productive.
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Blue Sapphire pulsed with energy when I arrived, the exclusive nightclub living up to its reputation with a line stretching around the block. I texted Ryan to let him know I'd arrived, and within minutes, he appeared at the entrance, charming the bouncer into ushering me past the velvet rope.
"You look incredible," Ryan said, kissing my cheek. "Come on, they're waiting in the VIP section."
As we wound through the crowd, the flashing lights and thumping bass created a disorienting effect. I focused on following Ryan's tall frame through the sea of bodies, mentally rehearsing my elevator pitch.
When we reached the VIP area, Ryan hesitated, giving me an apologetic look that immediately set off alarm bells.
"Ryan," I said slowly, "where's this potential client?"
He winced. "So, don't be mad—"
Before he could finish, I spotted Ethan slouched in a booth, his usually impeccable appearance disheveled, an empty tumbler dangling from his fingers. My stomach dropped.
"You lied to me," I hissed at Ryan, turning to leave.
"He begged me, Aria," Ryan caught my arm. "He said it was important—something you needed to know."
"I know everything I need to about Ethan Blake," I snapped, yanking my arm free.
But I was too late. Ethan had spotted me and was now stumbling in my direction, his eyes glazed from too many drinks.
"Aria!" he called, loud enough to draw stares. "You came. I knew you would."
"I didn't come for you," I said coldly as he reached me. "I was tricked."
Ryan mumbled an apology and slipped away, leaving me alone with Ethan. The coward.
"Baby, you have to let me explain," Ethan slurred, reaching for my hand. "About Scarlett—it's not what you think."
I stepped back. "I saw the photos, Ethan. And your concern when she collapsed today said everything."
"She trapped me," he insisted, following me as I tried to move toward the exit. "She's been using the charity events to get close to me. You know how she's always wanted what's yours."
His words hit a nerve—Scarlett had indeed made a habit of coveting my possessions since she moved into our home—but I refused to be manipulated.
"So you slept with her because, what, she was too persuasive?" I laughed bitterly. "That's pathetic even for you."
Ethan's expression darkened. "Have you forgotten how you pursued me in college? You practically begged me to date you, Aria. You were the one desperate for my attention then."
The cruel reminder of my past naivety stung worse than my father's slap. I had been that girl once—starry-eyed and convinced that Ethan Blake was worth any humiliation. But not anymore.
"Let me go, Ethan," I warned as his fingers closed around my arm, his grip painfully tight.
"Do you have someone new?" he demanded, his voice rising. "Is that what this is about? That guy you were with at the hotel? Who is he?"
When I didn't answer, his anger flared. He pulled me closer, his bourbon-soaked breath hot against my face. "No one will want you like I did, Aria. No one knows what you really are—a desperate little girl playing at business, running a company that's one client away from bankruptcy."
I struggled against his grip, panic rising as he leaned in, clearly attempting to kiss me despite my resistance. Just as I prepared to knee him somewhere painful, a strong arm inserted itself between us, shoving Ethan back with controlled force.
"Mr. Blake," a cool, measured voice cut through the chaos, "I suggest you compose yourself. This behavior is hardly befitting your public image."
I froze, instantly recognizing that voice. Standing beside me, radiating controlled power in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit, was Devon Kane.