Chapter 89
Aria's POV
I woke to New York's skyline stretching beyond floor-to-ceiling windows, the morning light casting long shadows across an unfamiliar room. Confusion gripped me before memories of the previous night returned—the beach house engulfed in flames, my mother's last tangible memories turning to ash, and Devon pulling me away from the blaze.
Looking down, I realized I was covered with a soft gray cashmere blanket in Devon's master bedroom. I'd fallen asleep in his arms last night after asking him to stay with me—a moment of weakness I immediately regretted.
The memory surfaced with uncomfortable clarity: lying in the darkness, I had believed Devon was asleep when I allowed silent tears to fall. My body had shaken with grief I tried desperately to contain. To my surprise, he'd tightened his arm around me and patted my back gently. He hadn't spoken—not a single word of hollow comfort—just offered quiet support until I drifted off, surrounded by the sandalwood scent of his cologne. That unexpected tenderness now made me feel even more exposed.
Now daylight brought reality crashing back. My phone was dead, my wallet lost in the chaos at the fire scene, and I was wearing yesterday's clothes that still smelled faintly of smoke. I had no way to call a car or even pay for coffee. My stomach knotted with anxiety at feeling so helpless.
I slipped out of bed, attempting to leave quietly, when the bathroom door opened. Devon emerged, hair slightly damp, wearing a crisp white button-down shirt and tailored trousers, no tie—slightly less sharp-edged than usual.
"Planning a dramatic escape?" His voice carried a hint of mockery, but his eyes held something else. "There's a charger by the couch if you need it."
"Thanks," I mumbled, suddenly aware of my rumpled appearance. I ran my fingers through my tangled hair, feeling heat rise to my cheeks. "I should get going."
"To where, exactly?" He raised an eyebrow. "Your beach house is gone, and from what I recall, you're not particularly welcome at your father's at the moment."
His bluntness stung. I swallowed hard, blinking back the sudden moisture in my eyes. He wasn't wrong.
I sat on the edge of his leather sofa, plugging in my phone. As soon as it had enough charge to function, I responded to Sofia's twenty-plus unread messages. She'd been frantic since seeing news of the fire. My fingers trembled slightly as I typed reassurances I didn't feel.
Lying back on the couch, I stared at the ceiling, mentally cataloging the disasters I needed to address. Scarlett and the Blake family would be out for blood after yesterday's public humiliation. My jaw clenched as I considered their potential retaliation.
The doorbell rang, and Devon's assistant Marcus appeared, impeccable in his black suit with that perpetual expression of efficient seriousness.
"The fire department has completely extinguished the blaze," Marcus reported, his tone businesslike. "I'm afraid the house is beyond recognition. The interior, furnishings, and personal items are almost completely destroyed."
I gripped the doorframe to steady myself, my knuckles turning white. The air seemed to thin around me.
"Initial assessment indicates arson," he continued. "The police are investigating."
The word "arson" hit me hard. My mother's house—deliberately destroyed. My vision blurred momentarily, and I felt sick to my stomach. Devon's eyes narrowed, watching my reaction.
"I'll be out for most of the day," Devon said, turning to me. "You're welcome to stay. The refrigerator is stocked."
I found my voice. "Thank you," I said softly, hating how small I sounded.
"Don't thank me," he replied flatly. "I've never seen the point in verbal gratitude. Real gratitude is shown through actions, not words." He gestured toward a small bowl near the door. "The key is there if you decide to leave. Or stay. Your choice."
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Devon's POV
I stepped into my private elevator, Marcus following behind me. The weight of Aria's presence in my penthouse lingered in my mind. Her face had drained of color at the mention of arson. She'd tried to hide it, but I noticed her hand gripping the doorframe to keep herself upright.
"There's chatter on Wall Street," Marcus said as we settled into the Maybach. "George Blake is pulling strings to have the SEC investigate Stellar Impressions. He's trying to apply economic pressure to force Miss Harper to back down."
I stared out the window at Manhattan's skyscrapers. The news didn't surprise me, but it irritated me more than it should have. My finger tapped against the armrest as I considered the implications.
"Do you want me to intervene on Miss Harper's behalf?" Marcus asked carefully.
"Mind your own business, Marcus," I replied coldly. Then, after a pause, I reconsidered. "Have our security team monitor Blake family movements. And strengthen the cybersecurity protocols for Stellar Impressions' servers. They'll likely try to hack her systems next."
Marcus nodded, making notes on his tablet. I continued staring out the window, unable to shake the image of Aria's bruised neck from my mind. George Blake was a petty businessman who relied on his family name more than actual business acumen. If he wanted war, I'd show him what real power looked like.
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Aria's POV
By noon, I had showered in the guest bathroom and was about to search for something to eat when my phone rang. Sofia's panic came through immediately.
"Aria, where are you? The SEC is here! And New York State tax auditors just showed up claiming they received an anonymous tip about financial irregularities. They're demanding access to everything!"
My heart pounded against my ribs, but a strange calm settled over me. I recognized this attack for what it was. This wasn't coincidence—either the Blakes, Victoria, or my father was striking back, trying to destroy what I'd built.
"I'll be there in twenty minutes," I said, my voice steadier than I expected. "Tell them I'm on my way and we'll cooperate fully. Don't let anyone take any documents off-site until I arrive."
I found clothes Devon had previously arranged for me in his closet—simple designer pieces in my size. I quickly applied makeup, hands shaking slightly. I stared at my reflection, straightened my shoulders, and practiced the professional mask I would need to wear.
When I arrived at Stellar Impressions, the atmosphere was chaotic. Several employees had been asked to leave their desks, and Sofia looked near tears, her makeup smudged from stress as she tried to manage a group of stern-faced investigators in suits. The sight of my company in disarray made anger rise inside me, hot and clarifying.
I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, adjusted my collar, and walked into the conference room with a professional smile that revealed nothing of the rage burning beneath.
"Good afternoon, gentlemen," I said, my voice steady and controlled. "I'm Aria Harper, CEO. I understand you have concerns you'd like to address?"
The lead SEC investigator explained they needed to examine all client contracts, payment records, and financial ledgers—particularly anything related to Blake Fashion Group and possible insider trading.
I maintained an expression of poised cooperation while my mind raced through all the implications. "Of course. Sofia, please provide these gentlemen with physical copies of all the documents they're requesting, and prepare a USB drive with the digital records."
As I walked the investigators to the elevator later, I whispered to Sofia, "Don't worry. We've done nothing wrong. Our operations are completely transparent. This is intimidation, nothing more." I squeezed her arm reassuringly, though my own stomach was tied in knots.
But I knew this was just the beginning. My jaw tightened and a cold determination settled in my eyes as the elevator doors closed.
No matter who was behind this—the Blakes, my father, or Victoria—I would not back down. The thought of surrender didn't even cross my mind.