Chapter 4

Aaliyah's POV

The club throbbed with neon lights and bass that shook my bones. I leaned against the bar, a half-empty whiskey glass in my hand, the burn in my throat the only thing tethering me to reality.

The pregnancy test from this morning haunted me—positive, undeniable, a life I hadn’t planned. I’d come here to escape, to drown the panic in music and strangers. My head was fuzzy, the liquor hitting harder than usual, but I didn’t care. I needed to forget.

The dance floor was a sea of bodies, and I swayed, my black, short dress clinging to me, my blonde hair loose and wild.

I’d always been the controlled one, the planner, but tonight, I was unraveling, I wanted to be free.

The DJ shouted, and the crowd roared. I laughed, bitter and reckless, and climbed onto the stage, my heels wobbling.

The spotlight hit me, and I danced, letting the rhythm take over. My arms swayed, my hips moved, and for a moment, I wasn’t Aaliyah Monroe, the orphan, the abandoned daughter, the sister who betrayed the other, the broken ex-wife or the terrified mom-to-be. I was free.

When the song ended, I stumbled off the stage, breathless, my heart pounding and my vision blurred. My red stiletto heels missed a step and I swayed, about hitting either the wall or the ground.

But a man caught my arm, steadying me. His gray eyes locked on mine, stormy and intense, his dark blond hair tousled like he’d just rolled out of bed.

He was tall, lean, his tailored suit screaming money, but his smile was pure mischief.

“Easy there senorita,” he said, his voice low, warm. “You’re stealing the show.”

I laughed, still buzzed, and leaned against him, catching my breath.

“Can’t a woman blow off some steam?” I said, my words slurring slightly.

He guided me to a quieter corner, the music fading to a dull throb. We sat at a high-top table, and he ordered drinks—whiskey for me, gin for him.

I smirked, feeling bold, feeling unstoppable, “You don’t look like a gin guy.”

He grinned, leaning closer. “And you don’t look like a whiskey girl.”

“Hmm, why does it seem like I've seen you somewhere before?”

He smirked, “I'm a bit offended that you don't know me.”

I racked my brain. An artist? a model? celebrity?

“Ohhh”, I grinned as I finally remembered, my blue eyes glinting with excitement. “Orrin Hayes! you're quite popular.”

He laughed, showcasing his perfect set of white teeth. “I'm glad you figured that out. Now tell me about you.”

“You're sure? Cause I've got a long ass story.”

He leaned in, his eyes locked with mine, “I'm all ears darling.”

His name was Orrin Hayes, and he had a way of listening that made me spill everything—almost.

I told him about Henry, the divorce, Aurora’s betrayal, my crumbling business. The words poured out, raw and messy, fueled by liquor and his steady gaze.

I left out the pregnancy though. That was too fresh, too heavy. He didn’t interrupt, just watched with those eyes, like he was memorizing every word.

When I paused, he leaned back, sipping his drink.

“You’re a fighter, Aaliyah. Most people would’ve broken.”

I snorted, twirling my glass. “Who says I’m not broken?”

“You’re here, aren’t you?” His gaze softened, and my cheeks warmed. “That’s not nothing.”

The flirting came easy, electric. I tilted my head, teasing. “So, Orrin, what’s your deal? You just rescue damsels in distress for fun?”

He chuckled, his fingers brushing mine as he reached for his drink.

“Only the ones who dance like they’re setting the world on fire. Tell me, how’d you learn to move like that?”

“Years of holding it together,” I said, half-joking. “You should see me in a boardroom.”

“Oh, I’d pay for that.” His voice dropped, playful but laced with heat. “But I’m more curious about this.” He nodded toward the bar. “Show me something. You’re full of surprises.”

Feeling reckless, I slid behind the counter, the bartender giving me a nod after Orrin flashed a grin.

I grabbed bottles—vodka, cranberry, a splash of lime—and mixed a drink, my hands steady despite the buzz. I shook, poured, and slid the vibrant red cocktail to him. “Try it.”

He took a sip, his eyes widening. “Damn. You’re a wizard. What’s this called?”

“A Monroe Special,” I smirked, leaning on the counter. “One of a kind.”

He laughed, and the night blurred into more banter. He told me he was a billionaire investor, bigger than Henry, with stakes in half the city’s empires.

I raised an eyebrow. “So, what’s a guy like you doing in a place like this?”

“Looking for trouble,” he said, his gaze locked on mine. “And I found it.”

I blushed, the room spinning slightly. Then, a drunk guy stumbled in between us, spilling Orrin’s drink.

He slurred an apology, but his eyes lingered on me, leering.

“Hey, sweetheart, wanna dance?”

Orrin’s smile vanished, his arm sliding protectively around my waist.

“She’s with me,” he said, his tone calm but sharp enough to cut glass.

The guy muttered and shuffled off, and Orrin’s touch lingered, warm against my side.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice softer.

“Yeah,” I said, my pulse racing from his closeness. “Thanks for the save.”

“Anytime. I guess I have a thing for rescuing damsels in distress”, His thumb grazed my hip, and I didn’t pull away as I laughed.

He leaned in, his voice dropping. “Aaliyah, I’m smitten. You’re fire, and I want to burn. Marry me.”

I froze, my heart tripping. “What?”

“Not for love, not yet,” he said, his eyes glinting. “A deal. You want revenge on Henry and Aurora? I’ve got the power to crush them. Marry me, and I’m yours—my money, my connections, my everything. We’ll make them beg.”

I stared, the whiskey clouding my head but not my judgment. It was insane, but the idea lit a spark. Henry’s face on that stage, Aurora’s smirk—they deserved to fall. And Orrin? He was a weapon, wrapped in charm and danger.

“You’re serious?” I asked, testing him.

“Dead serious.” He took my hand, his touch warm. “I’m half in love with you already. Say yes, and we’ll shake the world.”

I laughed, the sound shaky but real. “You’re crazy. But… okay. Yes.”

His grin was blinding. “That’s my girl.”

The room tilted, my vision blurring. I swayed, the whiskey and exhaustion hitting hard.

“Orrin, I—” My knees buckled, but he caught me, pulling me against his chest.

His arms were strong, his scent clean and sharp, like rain and cedar. I mumbled something, my words lost, and my eyes fluttered shut, the world fading as I sank into him. I felt safe for the first time in months.