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Chapter 49
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2026-01-11 05:45:13
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Forbidden By Her Sister's Husband Chapter 50
The morning light in the penthouse breakfast room was sharp, cutting through the floor-to-ceiling glass in a way that made every speck of dust visible. Aria stood by the sideboard, her hands clasped tightly behind her back, her fingers picking at the skin of her cuticles until they stung. She was wearing a high-collared knit dress, the fabric stiff and abrasive against the fresh mark on her neck Damian had left only hours before in the dark of her apartment.Beatrice Cross sat at the head of the mahogany table, her silver hair pulled into a bun so tight it seemed to stretch the skin of her forehead. She was a woman built of sharp angles and cold reputations, and her eyes hadn’t left Aria since she had walked into the room.“The tea is lukewarm, Aria,” Cassandra said, not looking up from her phone. She was dressed in a silk robe that cost more than Aria’s entire wardrobe, her legs crossed in a way that suggested she had never known a moment of physical labor. “Honestly, I don’t know wh
Forbidden By Her Sister's Husband Chapter 49
The penthouse was silent, the kind of heavy, pressurized quiet that only exists in places where everything is for sale. Inside, the climate control kept the air crisp and sterile, smelling faintly of the expensive white lilies Cassandra insisted on having replaced every forty-eight hours.Aria stood at the marble kitchen island, her fingers trembling as she tried to steady the silver spoon against the rim of her coffee cup. Every muscle in her body felt like a frayed wire. The high collar of her charcoal-gray dress was a cage, the fabric rubbing against the dark, tender bruise on her throat that no amount of concealer could truly hide from her own mind.“Honestly, Aria, do you have to be so loud?” Cassandra’s voice sliced through the morning quiet like a glass shard.Cassandra was lounging on the velvet sofa, her silk robe draped perfectly over her legs. She was scrolling through her phone, her face twisted in a habitual pout.“I’m sorry, Cassandra,” Aria whispered, her voice sounding
Forbidden By Her Sister's Husband Chapter 48
The silver doors of the residential elevator slid open with a soft, expensive chime that felt like a warning. Aria stepped out into the foyer of the penthouse, her footsteps swallowed by the plush, cream-colored rug. It was barely 7:30 AM, and the morning sun was cutting sharp, cold lines across the marble floors. She wasn’t here because of a summons from Damian; she was here because Cassandra had texted her at 6:00 AM, demanding she bring up the revised guest list for the fundraiser to be reviewed over breakfast.Aria felt the weight of the poetry book in her bag, a secret that felt like a ticking bomb against her hip. She adjusted the high collar of her starch-white blouse, ensuring it sat flush against her throat to hide the dark, heavy mark Damian had left there.“You’re five minutes late,” Cassandra’s voice drifted from the breakfast nook, sharp and impatient.Aria walked toward the sound. Cassandra was seated at the glass-topped table, looking effortless in a silk wrap dress, a
Forbidden By Her Sister's Husband Chapter 47
The Monday morning air in the sub-basement felt heavier than usual, the scent of dust and old paper clinging to the back of Aria’s throat. She sat at her desk, staring at a stack of invoices that had been sitting there for an hour, but the numbers wouldn’t settle into focus. Her mind kept drifting back to the Saturday night party—the way the club had smelled of expensive gin and sea salt, the way Alex had laughed when she stumbled over a word, and the way he had looked at her as if she were a person instead of an object to be managed.It had been four hours of normalcy, and it had ruined her.The internal phone buzzed, vibrating against the metal surface of the desk. Aria jumped, her hand flying to her chest. She took a breath before answering.“Aria Hale,” she said.“Sarah,” the voice on the other end clipped. “Mr. Cross is in his office. He wants the final quarterly logs for the textile plants. Bring the physical ledger. Now.”“I’ll be there in five minutes,” Aria replied.She gathe
Forbidden By Her Sister's Husband Chapter 46
The air in the archives felt heavier than usual on the morning of August 22nd. Aria sat at her desk, her neck stiff and her body aching with a exhaustion that sleep couldn’t touch. Every time she moved, the high collar of her blouse rubbed against the fresh bruise Damian had left the night before—a hidden, throbbing reminder of her twenty-fourth birthday. She felt like a vessel that had been filled to the brim with a dark, suffocating liquid, and any sudden movement would cause her to spill over.The memory of his mouth, his weight, and the way he had claimed her in the dark played on a loop in her mind. He had called her “Little One.” He had told her she belonged to him. But as the sun rose over the Obsidian, the warmth of those words had evaporated, leaving behind only the cold reality of her situation. She was a secret. She was an asset. She was a body he used to drown out the silence of his own life.The internal phone rang at 10:30 AM.“Aria Hale,” she said, her voice sounding li
Forbidden By Her Sister's Husband Chapter 45
Aria sat at her metal desk in the sub-basement, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. The air in the archives was stagnant, despite the industrial fans humming in the corners. It was August 21st. The humid, heavy heat of a New York summer didn’t reach this far underground, but she could feel the weight of it in the silence. It was her twenty-fourth birthday. She waited for the internal line to ring, or for a text to vibrate against the desk. Ten minutes passed. Then twenty. The only sound was the rhythmic clicking of the server rack. She pulled a stack of shipping invoices from 2018 toward her, her movements mechanical. She didn’t expect a cake or a card. In the Hale household, milestones were reserved for those who added value to the family name. Aria was merely a survivor of a tragedy her father had never forgiven. The phone finally rang at 11:00 AM. Aria’s pulse spiked, a small, treacherous part of her hoping for a single word of recognition. “Aria Hale,” she said. “Aria, get
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