ログインAria’s P.O.VThe mood between us changed.The restaurant suddenly felt too quiet as we stared at each other. I noticed Sophia’s eyes widen slightly, and her fingers stopped against the stem of her wine glass for just a second.She hadn't expected that.Ever since she had shown up at my desk that morning, she had treated me like someone who would be intimidated by her name and her family.But I hadn't looked away.For the first time, she seemed unsure of what to say. She had expected a nervous secretary who would know her place.Instead, she had someone sitting across from her who wasn't afraid to meet her eyes.This was no longer a lunch; it was a psychological duel.Sophia didn't lash out. She didn't raise her voice or resort to the crude insults Amara used to weaponize against me. That wasn't her way.Sophia Powell operated in the shadows of politeness, using kindness as a shroud for
Aria’s P.O.VThe ride to the office was quiet, but it wasn't an awkward silence. There was something different between us after last night.Damien kept his hand on my thigh for most of the drive, his fingers resting there firmly, as though he needed the reassurance that I was really beside him. He barely spoke, but every time I looked at him, I caught that same intensity in his eyes.He looked protective. Almost worried.Whatever had happened last night hadn't pushed him away. If anything, it seemed to have made him more certain about me.When we reached the garage, our little bubble burst. His phone had been vibrating incessantly for the last ten minutes, a relentless barrage of emails and calls from his father’s camp."I have to handle this now," he muttered, his voice tight. He leaned in, pressing a hard, lingering kiss to my lips that tasted of possessiveness and a silent promise. "Go up. Stay focused. I&rsqu
Aria’s P.O.VThe clock beside my bed ticked loudly in the quiet room.12:14 AM.I had been lying there for hours, unable to sleep. One minute, I would convince myself Damien was coming home soon. The next, that awful feeling in my chest would return.Every time I heard a car slow down outside, my heart jumped. For a second, I would think it was him. Then the car would drive away, and the hope would disappear with it.I knew Damien had a family dinner tonight. I knew the Powells would be there. And I knew Sophia would be there too.I tried to tell myself I was being stupid. Damien had reassured me. He had told me I was the only woman he wanted. I wanted to believe him…but it wasn't that easy.Too many times in my life, I had been the second choice. The girl someone settled for until they found someone better. The person who was loved only until the person they really wanted came along.Those memories didn't disappear just because Damien told me he loved me.They waited.They whispered
Damien’s P.O.V“You’re invited to dinner tonight with the family. The Powell’s will be in attendance.”The invitation wasn't a request; it was a mandate. My father doesn't do "suggestions" when it comes to the Henderson legacy. He views his children as assets, pieces on a chessboard to be moved for the maximum strategic advantage.And right now, the move he wanted was a consolidation of power between Henderson Enterprises and Powell International.I stared at the invitation on my desk, the heavy cream cardstock feeling like a lead weight. A family dinner. The Powells were invited. On the surface, it was a gesture of goodwill, a way to "smooth over" the tensions of the past few months.But the timing was too convenient. It was far too convenient.My grandmother was still in the hospital, her heart fragile, recovering from a massive attack that had nearly claimed her. The timeline was a jagged lin
Sophia’s P.O.VI have always prided myself on my ability to read people. It is a skill honed by years of Ivy League education, high-society galas, and the ruthless environment of the Powell Corporation.I can spot a lie by the slight tremor in a lip, a hidden agenda by the way a man shifts his weight, and a weakness by the silence between words.I thought I had Damien Henderson mapped out. I had known him since we were children—two heirs to two empires, groomed to be the perfect pair.The Damien I knew was a masterpiece of control. He was polished, refined, and strategically cold. We had mirrored each other for years, moving through the world with a synchronized, businesslike grace.Even when we fought, it was a war of abrasions, a battle of intellects where neither of us dared to break the surface of our composure.I had always admired that about him; we were the same. We were the elite, the untouchable, the one
Damien’s P.O.VThe silence in the car was no longer thick with anger; it was heavy with a fragile, heartbreaking grief.I looked at Aria, and the sight of her nearly broke me. Her small frame was shaking, her lips quivering as she struggled to hold back the next wave of sobs, and her eyes—those wide, soulful eyes—were swimming in tears.She looked so small, so utterly convinced of her own insignificance, as if she were a smudge on a canvas that I was just waiting to wipe away.The frustration I had felt moments ago—the urge to shake her and tell her to fight back—vanished instantly. It was replaced by a searing protectiveness that burned in my chest. I didn't want her to be a warrior right now; I just wanted her to know she was safe.I parked the car at the side of the road, making sure I was parking at a spot where we wouldn’t be interrupted.Then I reached out, my hand cupping the back o
Aria’s P.O.V“My sister is the most gullible woman in the world. Even if she caught us right now—naked under the covers—I could tell her you were helping me rehearse for a play and she’d believe it.”“That’s why I like you, Amara,” Landon replied lazily. “You know exactly what you want, and you’re
Ari’s P.O.VI took off my sunglasses and placed them on my desk before plopping down heavily onto my chair.Amara hadn't returned home last night. In fact, I had no idea if she was coming back today or had she eloped with Landon altogether because for the first time in my life…I hadn't returned hom
Aria’s P.O.VI wake up slowly, as if I am being pulled out of deep water, my thoughts heavy and sluggish. My body feels weighed down by a strange mix of warmth and discomfort. A dull ache pulses behind my eyes, steady and insistent, making me wince before I even fully open them. The first thing I n
Aria’s P.O.VEveryone was looking at me.At least, that’s what it felt like the moment I stepped into the bar on a Wednesday night—face layered with makeup, hair styled in a way I barely recognized, and a dress so short it made me painfully aware of every step I took.The place was surprisingly cro







