Chapter 4

ARIA

When I returned to the private room, Matthew was holding court. He'd gathered a small crowd—businessmen in expensive suits, all laughing at something he'd said.

Blake sat at the head of the table, his expression unreadable. He glanced at me briefly as I entered, then turned back to his conversation with Orion.

No concern. No acknowledgment. Nothing.

I took my seat in the corner, trying to make myself invisible.

"Ah, she's back." Matthew's voice cut through the room. "I was just telling everyone about the old days. When the Taylors worked for the Grant family."

Don't react. Don't give him anything.

"Aria and I used to play together as kids," Matthew continued, walking toward me with that same cruel smile. "She was always following me and Olivia around. Remember that, Aria?"

I met his eyes. "I remember."

"We were friends once." He sipped his whiskey. "Before her father got drunk and killed mine."

The room went quiet.

"Matthew—" Blake started.

"No, let me finish." Matthew raised his hand. "Everyone needs to understand this. Aria's father was driving my father to the airport ten years ago. He'd been drinking. Lost control. My father died instantly."

That's not true. My father didn't drink.

"Blood alcohol twice the legal limit," Matthew continued. "Aaron survived as a vegetable. My father was buried."

I dug my nails into my palms. Each word cut deep.

"So when I see her here in expensive clothes, married to Blake Morgan... I wonder what she did to earn all that."

Someone laughed.

Blake's jaw tightened, but he stayed silent. His cold blue eyes watched without emotion.

He won't defend me.

"You know what?" Matthew set down his glass. "We should celebrate our partnership properly. Since Aria is here as Blake's representative, she should participate."

"What do you suggest?" one of the businessmen asked, clearly enjoying the show.

Matthew's smile widened. "A toast. A proper one. To show respect to all the distinguished guests here tonight."

He walked closer, until he was standing right in front of me.

"Get on your knees, Aria. And offer each person here a drink. As an apology for your father's sins."

The words struck me with physical force.

No. No, this can't be happening.

I looked at Blake. Silently begging him to stop this. To stand up and say something. Anything.

He met my gaze for a long moment. Then he turned away.

"Matthew's request is reasonable," Blake said quietly. "It would be good for the partnership if you cooperated."

My heart shattered.

"Blake—"

"This is important business, Aria." His voice was cold. "Don't make a scene."

All eyes were on me now. Some curious, some contemptuous. Matthew stood there with that triumphant smile, holding a bottle of whiskey.

I had no doubt his next words would be telling me to drink, making me kneel—a servant, something less than human. I'm pregnant. I can't even drink. I had no choice.

"Well?" Matthew raised an eyebrow. "We're waiting."

My legs felt heavy as I stood up. Every instinct screamed at me to run, to leave this place and never look back.

But where would I go? Blake was my husband. This was his business. His world.

And I was just the murderer's daughter who'd somehow tricked her way into it.

Slowly, I lowered myself to my knees.

The carpet was rough against my skin. I heard whispers, saw people pulling out their phones.

They're recording this. They're going to remember this forever.

Matthew handed me the whiskey bottle and a glass. "Start with Mr. Miller. He's been very interested in the Morgan-Redwood partnership."

I poured the drink with shaking hands. Crawled across the floor to where Mr. Miller sat, his expression a mixture of discomfort and fascination.

"Please accept this drink," I whispered.

He took it without looking at me.

"Louder," Matthew called out. "And say, 'Please forgive my father's sins.'"

The words stuck in my throat.

My father wasn't a killer. He didn't drink. This is all wrong—

"Say it."

I looked up at Blake one more time. He was talking to Orion, laughing at something, as if I didn't exist.

As if I wasn't on my knees in the middle of the room.

"Please forgive my father's sins," I choked out.

"Good girl." Matthew's voice dripped with satisfaction. "Now the next one."

I crawled to the next person. And the next. And the next.

Each time, I had to repeat those words. Each time, a piece of my dignity crumbled away.

My knees were bruising. My hands were trembling so badly I could barely pour the drinks. But I kept going, because what choice did I have?

When I reached the last guest, Matthew appeared beside me.

"One more thing," he said softly, so only I could hear. "I want you to understand something. Your father destroyed my family. And you... you're just the same. A stain that needs to be erased."

Then louder, for everyone to hear: "Thank Blake for giving you this opportunity to make amends."

I turned to look at Blake. He was watching now, his expression blank.

"Thank you," I whispered.

"Louder."

"Thank you, Blake." My voice broke. "For giving me this opportunity."

Someone clapped. Then another person. Soon the whole room was applauding, as if I'd just performed a trick.

I tried to stand up, but my legs wouldn't cooperate. The room started spinning.

My spine burned. That old injury, the one from ten years ago when I'd supposedly fallen down the stairs. The one no one ever asked about.

The pain shot through me.

Not now. Please, not now.

I pushed myself up, but my vision blurred. My knees buckled.

I fell forward, my forehead hitting the floor hard.

The impact stunned me. I lay there, unable to move, unable to think. Voices swirled around me, muffled and distant.

Someone laughed.

I tried to get up, but my body wouldn't respond. The pain in my spine was excruciating. My head throbbed where it had hit the floor.

Get up. Get up. Don't let them see you this way.

But I couldn't. I just lay there, staring at the expensive carpet, while the room continued around me as if nothing had happened.

Blake's voice, still talking business.

Matthew's laugh, cruel and satisfied.

The clink of glasses.

Nobody came to help me.

After what felt forever, I managed to push myself onto my hands and knees. Then slowly, painfully, to my feet.

My head was bleeding. I could feel the warm trickle down my temple.

I stumbled toward the door. No one stopped me. No one even looked.

The hallway outside was blessedly empty. I leaned against the wall, trying to catch my breath.

What just happened? Did I really just—

The door opened behind me. Blake.

For a moment, I thought he'd come to check on me. That maybe, finally, he'd show some concern.

But his expression was cold as ever.

"Are you done making a scene?"

The words hit harder than the floor had.

"I... I fell—"

"I saw." He walked past me toward the elevator. "Come on. We're leaving."

I followed him on shaking legs, blood still dripping down my face.

In the parking garage, Blake headed to his car without looking back. I thought he was going to open the door for me, but he just stood there, keys in hand.

"What did your mother call to tell you?" His voice was sharp.

"Just... she mentioned Emma is back—"

"Listen carefully, Aria." He stepped closer. "Emma has an old spine injury. It causes her constant pain. If she experiences any discomfort because of you, if you cause her any stress or upset, I will make you regret it. Do you understand?"

He remembers Emma's injury. He knows every detail of her pain.

But he doesn't know about mine. He's never asked.

"I understand."

"Good." He unlocked his car. "You can get your own ride home. I have something to take care of."

"Blake, please—"

"Call an Uber." He got in the car. "And clean yourself up before you get home. You look pathetic."

He drove away, leaving me standing alone in the empty garage.

My head was still bleeding. My knees were bruised and scraped. My spine felt on fire.

And I was five miles from Hampton Estate, in the middle of the night, with no way home.

I pulled out my phone. The rideshare app showed no available drivers in the area.

Of course.

I started walking.