Chapter 86
Aria's POV
I steeled myself before pushing open the heavy oak door to my father's study. William sat behind his massive mahogany desk, eyes fixed on his computer screen where a stock chart displayed alarming red downward trends.
"Harper Group stock is down seven percent," he said without looking up. "Blake Fashion Group has lost nearly fifteen percent."
"How unfortunate," I replied coolly, remaining by the doorway rather than taking a seat.
William finally raised his gaze, calculation flickering in his eyes. "The Blakes just contacted me. They're willing to invest in Harper Media to help us weather this crisis. The only condition is that you make a public statement clarifying those photos."
I couldn't help but laugh. "You want me to save face for the couple who betrayed me?"
"Not for them. For Harper Group—for your family business," my father's voice sharpened.
"Why not have Scarlett do it?" I asked sarcastically. "After all, she's the one carrying the Blake family's child, isn't she?"
Father's expression shifted. He hadn't expected me to be so direct. After a moment of silence, he adjusted his approach: "If you agree, I can force Scarlett to officially transfer the Hampton beach house to you."
"What did you say?" I worked to keep my voice steady.
"You heard me. The beach house will be yours, officially transferred, no strings attached." He leaned forward, his eyes flickering with something I rarely saw—almost like guilt. "I know I haven't been fair to you in the past... favoring Scarlett. I want to make amends. You've always been a smart, strong girl, Aria."
I nearly wavered at his pretense of care, but quickly remembered his actions over the past four years. This wasn't genuine remorse, just another manipulation attempt.
"If you truly want to make amends, give me all of my mother's property, including her shares in Harper Group," I stated calmly.
Father's expression immediately darkened. "Don't push your luck! Have you forgotten the Harper family rules? What's yours is the family's. Don't get greedy!"
I smiled slightly and turned to leave. "Then it seems we have nothing to discuss."
"Wait!" he called after me. "The beach house offer still stands. But nothing else."
I said nothing as I quietly closed the study door behind me.
Two hours later, I was driving my Porsche along the Long Island Expressway toward the Hamptons. Late summer sunshine streamed through the windows, the breeze tousling my hair. I'd changed into a comfortable linen dress and flats, ready to confront the place filled with memories.
When I finally arrived at the white beach house, my heart raced. It was still as beautiful as I remembered—white clapboard exterior, blue shutters, wooden walkway leading to a private beach. I took my mother's key from my purse and approached the front door, but the key wouldn't turn in the lock.
"They changed it," I murmured, feeling a surge of anger that quickly subsided into calm determination. This was predictable—Victoria never made anything easy.
I walked down the stone steps leading to the private beach and sat on the bottom stair. From here, I could smell lavender and lilies mingling with the sea breeze—my mother's favorite flowers. My fingertips traced words my mother had etched into the stone years ago: "True strength comes from inner peace."
A memory suddenly surfaced: eight-year-old me sitting here with Mom watching the sunset as she whispered, "Aria, no matter what happens, this house will always be your safe haven."
I pulled out my phone and decisively dialed my father. "I accept your terms," I said, "but I want to go to the attorney's office to handle the transfer immediately."
---
Martinson Law Offices occupied a high-rise in Manhattan's Financial District. When I entered the conference room, my father and Scarlett were already waiting. Scarlett had obviously been crying but was struggling to maintain composure. She glared at me with undisguised hatred, and I returned a victorious smile.
"Please be seated, Miss Harper," Albert Martinson said. As one of New York's most prominent real estate attorneys, his reputation was impeccable. "I've prepared all the documents. This is an unconditional transfer agreement that will shift ownership of the Hampton beach property from Scarlett Harper to Aria Harper."
I carefully read every page, ensuring there were no hidden clauses or legal traps. The documents confirmed the house had no mortgages, debts, or easement disputes.
"Sign it, Scarlett," my father commanded sternly.
Scarlett's hand visibly trembled as she signed, causing a drop of ink to blot the document.
"Need a more dignified pen?" I offered my Montblanc, my tone calm and triumphant.
She shot me a venomous look but accepted the pen and quickly scrawled her signature.
"Congratulations, Miss Harper," Martinson handed me the property deed and new keys. "Legally speaking, the Hampton beach house is now entirely yours."
As I took the keys, I felt a quiet satisfaction wash over me. This wasn't just a house—it was my mother's legacy, proof of her love.
My father signaled for Victoria and Scarlett to leave, then turned to me: "The Blake family is waiting for us at The Plaza Hotel. The press is already in position."
The Plaza Hotel's VIP suite was lavishly decorated, with stunning views of Central Park. When we arrived, George Blake, Marianne, and Ethan were waiting. Ethan sported visible bruising on his face—likely from some confrontation after my wedding revelations.
"Dear Aria," Marianne grasped my hand. "You're being so understanding about the big picture."
I smiled politely but quickly withdrew my hand. "Mrs. Blake, we're all adults here. There's no need to pretend."
George cleared his throat. "Time is of the essence. The reporters are waiting in the ballroom. Essentially, we need you to clarify that those photos were taken out of context, and that you and Ethan parted amicably, not because of... those allegations."
I nodded in understanding. As I prepared to follow my father to the ballroom, Ethan suddenly blocked my path.
"Aria," he said quietly, "can we talk privately? Please, for old times' sake."
I regarded him coldly, noting the fear and anxiety in his eyes. "This is the last time I'll tell you: from now on, I want you completely out of my life."
"But we had so many wonderful times together," he desperately grabbed my wrist. "You can't deny all of that."
I easily freed myself from his grasp and smiled slightly. "Strange thing is, I can't remember why I ever loved you. Now all I recall is the way you looked at Scarlett."