Chapter 4

Chapter 4

(Arya’s POV)

Repeating Janette’s motivational words like a mantra as I stepped into the lobby of the modern building that once housed the racing team I had given my all to, I straightened my posture, trying to appear confident.

I was about approaching the receptionist who seemed busy with her computer, when a bald man in his early thirties spotted me and frowned.

“Can I help you?” he asked, sounding like he sincerely hoped the answer was no.

“I’m here to see the hiring manager,” I said.

His eyes condescendingly skimmed over me from head to toe. “That’ll be me,” he said.

I cleared my throat, determined not to let his disinterest throw me off. “Good day, sir. I’m Arya Sinclair and I used to work as a mechanical engineer with this team. We won several races under my leadership, and I’ll like to speak with you about returning to the team.”

“Yeah? And how long ago was that?” He asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“It’s been three years, but I’m back now and I promise I can even do better than I once did,” I replied.

The manager snorted, leaning into a table. “In case you don’t know, your former team was auctioned off and is now under a new management. The team was in the bottom two for the past year and eventually went bankrupt. Do you really think you have the ability to turn things around just like that?”

I clenched my fists, determined. “I believe so. I guarantee the team a spot in the top three during the next Grand Prix if you hire me. Please, give me a chance to prove my skills to you. One week, that’s all I ask,” I said.

His lips twisted into a sneer. “Indeed. Why don’t we talk about what this is truly about? You’ve spent the last three years being a housewife, that much is clear. Now, you’re mad at your husband and you come in here, thinking you can waltz back into a team that’s been struggling and just fix everything with a snap of your fingers? Let me give you a piece of advice: every marriage has issues. Instead of meddling in things you know nothing about, go to a marriage counsellor and fix your marriage. Men with thirty years’ experience can’t even make the same absurd promises as you, a common housewife,” he said, shooting me a distasteful glance.

I felt a stab of frustration and my eyes stung with tears I refused to let fall. I couldn’t let his words break me. I needed to show I was qualified. “Listen, I’m not asking for a favour. In fact, I’ll work for free. I know things have been rough with the team and I am here offering a solution. If the team earns a spot in the top three like I’ve promised, then you can employ me full time. Let this be like a probation sort of for me,” I said.

He shook his head, refusing to budge. “I’m sure you’ve got plenty of solutions, but you’re just not what we need. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

Just as he was about to wave me off, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the lobby.

A man walked in, tall and commanding, his dark grey eyes scanning the room. He was dressed in a tailored navy blue suit that screamed wealth, and he exuded an aura of authority that immediately shifted the dynamic in the room.

“Is everything alright in here?” he asked, his deep voice low but clear.

My stomach dropped the moment my eyes locked with his.

For a heartbeat, time seemed to stop. My pulse hammered in my ears, and I could feel my cheeks flushing with heat.

It was the man from the night before… the man I had believed to be a gigolo… the man that had fucked me like a pornstar, and from the look on his face, I knew he also remembered me.

My throat felt dry as shame washed all over me. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come here,” I muttered, turning on my heel and rushing out of the office, barely making it out of the building before I hailed a cab, giving the driver the address to my stepmother’s apartment before I passed out from embarrassment.

It was a building purchased for her by Derek and she’d be the one most sad about the divorce since she had benefitted from it the most, but I also knew she wouldn’t throw me out. If she kept me even after my father’s death, there’s no reason she’d throw me out now.

I arrived at the house with nothing but my divorce papers in hand and the backpack given to me by Janette, and after a moment’s hesitation, I knocked on the door.

Seconds later, the door opened and my stepmother let me in with an unusual smile.

“I’m so sorry, I would’ve told you I was coming, but—“

“It’s okay. Your husband already told me what happened,” she said, and that was when my gaze fell on Derek who sat on the couch like he owned the place, his arm draped around Cassidy’s waist who sat right beside him.

I felt my blood boil. “What the hell are they doing here?” I snapped, unable to keep the anger from my voice.

Cassidy laughed. “It’s funny of you to ask what I’m doing in my mother’s house. If you’re mad about that, maybe you could go to your own mother’s house. Oh, I forgot. That bitch is in hell,” she mocked.

I scoffed. “I’m not surprised you’d say something so hurtful and insensitive to me. It’s my fault, I should have known better than to come here,” I said, turning around to leave.

My stepmother, Caroline, immediately held my hand, preventing me from leaving. “Arya, I know you’re angry right now, but sisters fight all the time. You should let go of your bitterness and beg your husband to forgive you. Go ahead, tell him you didn’t mean it when you said you’ll divorce him,” she said.

I forced my hand out of her grip, tears rolling down my cheeks. “How could you ask me to beg a man who hurt me for forgiveness? You know what he did to me, don’t you? He’s been having an affair with Cassidy, and they tricked me into adopting their affair child!” I screamed.

“I know all about it. In fact, I was the one who suggested that you adopt Jeremy, because I know you. You’re a kind-hearted person, and I know you’re just acting angry because you’re seeking attention. It’s okay. You can drop the act now and go back home to your husband,” she said.

My chest tightened with anger. “Really? Do you still think this is all for attention?” I yelled furiously, throwing the divorce papers at Derek who was still yet to say a word.

Derek barely looked at the papers, and with a sneer, he flung them back at me. “I have been too lenient with you, haven’t I? I’m a busy man, but I made out the time to come take you home since you’ve chosen to act like a little child, and this is how you treat me? Don’t annoy me more than you already have! You’re coming home with me right this instant!” He warned furiously.

I glared at him with clenched fists. “I’ll do no such thing,” I spat.

He eyed me furiously, then snapped his fingers. “Guards! Take her away!”

Two large muscular men that had been standing at the corner of the living room moved toward me, grabbing my arms roughly and dragging me out of the room before I could even try to flee.

I fought hard against them, screaming for them to let me go, but all my pleas fell on deaf ears.

Just as they reached the door, it suddenly opened from outside, and that was when I saw him again.

Somehow, he kept popping up wherever I went, and this time around, he stood on the porch, his dark eyes locking with mine.

“Let her go,” he ordered, his voice; a deep commanding growl.