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Chapter 23

Author: Bunnykoo
last update Last Updated: 2025-12-12 00:04:00

March in the city was a season of mud and misery.

The slush on the sidewalks had turned a permanent, industrial gray. The wind off the Hudson River didn't just blow; it bit.

Aria was in the basement archives, wearing a thick wool sweater over her blouse because the heating system on Level B3 was "under maintenance" a lie Damian had likely authorized to cut costs, or perhaps just to make her uncomfortable.

It was 4:00 PM.

Her phone buzzed.

Cassandra.

Aria stared at the screen. A sick feeling curled in her stomach. Cassandra never called during the day unless something was wrong. Or unless she needed a body to throw under a bus.

Aria answered. "Hello?"

"Where are you?" Cassandra’s voice was tight, high pitched. "Are you at the Tower?"

"Yes, I'm working."

"Leave," Cassandra ordered. "Go to the apartment. Get dressed. The black dress. The one with the high neck. Modest. Severe."
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  • Forbidden By Her Sister's Husband    Chapter 36

    The day of the Vow Renewal.The heat had broken, leaving behind a crisp, perfect summer day that Cassandra claimed she had “manifested” through sheer willpower. The sky was a piercing blue, the kind that looked expensive in photographs.Aria stood in the bridal suite of the St. Jude’s Basilica, holding a bottle of hairspray like a weapon.“Higher,” Cassandra commanded, staring into the vanity mirror. “I want the tiara to sit up, not back. I’m not a debutante, Aria. I’m a queen.”Aria sprayed the curl. The chemical scent choked the air.She was wearing the silver silk dress Damian had forced her to buy months ago. It fit her like a second skin—cool, smooth, and restrictive. Around her neck, hidden beneath the high collar, was the silver padlock. On her wrist was the heavy steel watch.She was branded. Wrapped in his money. Bound by his gifts.“There,” Aria whispered, smoothing a stray blonde hair. “It’s perfect.”Cassandra turned her head left, then right. She smiled. It was a dazzling

  • Forbidden By Her Sister's Husband    Chapter 35

    The suitcase on Aria’s bed was open, gaping like a hungry mouth waiting to be fed.“Pack something slutty,” Cassandra commanded from the doorway of the corporate apartment. She was wearing oversized sunglasses indoors, holding a Starbucks cup like a scepter. “We’re going to Atlantic City. The Borgata. I booked the Chairman Suite.”Aria folded a beige sweater, her hands trembling slightly. “Atlantic City? Cassandra, the Vow Renewal is next week. Shouldn’t we be resting?”“Rest is for the dead,” Cassandra snapped. “This is my last hurrah before I re-commit to the prison of matrimony. I want tequila. I want blackjack. I want to dance on a table.”“I have work,” Aria tried, a desperate lie. “The Archives…”“Damian gave you the weekend off,” Cassandra said, smirking. “I asked him this morning. He didn’t look happy about it, but he agreed. Said something about ‘minimizing collateral damage’ if I went alone. So, you’re the chaperone. Pack.”Aria stared at the sweater. Chaperone.She wasn’t g

  • Forbidden By Her Sister's Husband    Chapter 34

    The padlock necklace was a cold, unyielding weight against Aria’s sternum.It was a small thing—a square of solid silver no larger than a thumbnail—but it sat in the hollow of her throat like an anchor dragging her down. It warmed against her skin, a constant, burning reminder of the man who had placed it there in the dead of night.To ensure you do not run again.Aria touched the metal through the fabric of her high-necked blouse. She was in the dining room of the Hale Estate. It was Sunday. The mandatory family dinner.She hadn’t taken the necklace off in three days. She couldn’t. There was no key. She had tried to pick the lock with a hairpin late one night, desperate to breathe without the reminder of his ownership, but the mechanism was complex, expensive, and completely unforgiving.Just like him.“Pass the wine,” Cassandra said, her voice cutting through the silence like a knife through silk.Aria jumped. Her hand

  • Forbidden By Her Sister's Husband    Chapter 33

    May in New York was supposed to be a season of rebirth. The magnolias were blooming in Central Park, dropping soft pink petals onto the pavement, and the air had finally lost its biting, winter edge. But for Aria Hale, May felt like a countdown to an execution. The date of the Vow Renewal was set for June 15th. Four weeks away. Every day was a fresh hell of logistics. Aria had become the unofficial wedding planner, the shadow secretary, the person who carried the binders and absorbed the stress so Cassandra could focus on “glowing.” Today was the venue walkthrough. Cassandra had rejected the idea of a garden party. “Too rustic,” she had declared. “I want God involved. It looks more expensive.” So they were at St. Jude’s Basilica. It was a cavernous, Gothic monstrosity of stone and stained glass in the Upper East Side. It was older than the city around it, a fortress of silence that smelled of b

  • Forbidden By Her Sister's Husband    Chapter 32

    The planning of the Vow Renewal was a slow, methodical execution.April bled into May. The city turned green, the air warming up, but Aria felt colder than ever. She spent her days in the basement archives and her evenings in the corporate apartment, surrounded by binders of white tulle samples and catering menus.She was building the altar for her own execution.Tik. Tik. Tik.The heavy steel watch on her wrist—Damian’s Christmas “gift”—counted down the seconds. It was too loose. It slid up and down her forearm, clinking against the glass table as she worked.It was 8:00 PM on a Thursday.Aria was in the apartment living room. Cassandra had sent over five different options for the renewal invitations.“Choose the best one,” Cassandra had texted. “I trust your boring taste. It’s ‘classy’.”Aria was comparing fonts.The electronic lock on the front door beeped.Beep. Whirrr.Aria didn’t

  • Forbidden By Her Sister's Husband    Chapter 31

    The flight back from London was a funeral procession at forty thousand feet.Aria sat in her seat, staring at the back of Damian’s head. He was working again, typing furiously, ignoring her existence. He hadn’t spoken to her since the car ride from the Savoy, where he had scrubbed her hand with a wet wipe like she was contaminated.She felt hollowed out. Used.He had dragged her across the ocean, locked her in a room, used her to unsettle a business rival, and now he was putting her back in the box until he needed her again.The plane descended. The gray skyline of New York rose up to meet them.Home, Aria thought bitterly. Or what passes for it.The wheels touched down with a screech of rubber. The jet taxied to the private hangar.Damian closed his laptop. He stood up, putting on his heavy wool coat.He walked over to Aria.He reached into his breast pocket. He pulled out her passport.He hel

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