18. Sweat Dreams

When Aria stepped out of the bathroom, her eyes immediately locked onto a new suitcase resting on the bed. It hadn’t been there earlier.

Her brows furrowed. “Cecil?” she asked, glancing at the corner of the room where her assistant was hunched over the remains of her broken laptop, tools scattered across the desk like surgical instruments.

Cecil didn’t look up. “Relax. I’m not fixing it. I’m just salvaging the hard drive and memory. With any luck, your files are still intact.”

“You really don’t have to do that,” Aria said, her voice soft but strained. “You’ve already done more than enough today.”

Cecil finally raised her head, she pointed at the suitcase. “I bought that earlier. Pack up. We need to get out of this place at checkout time before traffic swallows the entire city. Everyone’s out celebrating that bastard and his snake’s little love story.”

Aria’s throat tightened at those words. Slowly, she walked over to the bed and sat down. The clothes thrown at her by Elliot’s mother still smelled faintly of perfume and disdain. She began folding them with trembling fingers.

“I don’t even know how to thank you,” Aria murmured, her voice cracking. “You’ve been nothing but kind. But this whole situation is a mess. You shouldn’t have to get dragged into it. You’re free to go, Cecil. You deserve better than this chaos.”

Cecil dropped the screwdriver and turned sharply, her eyes blazing. “Shut up, Aria.”

Aria blinked in surprise.

“You’re not just my boss. You’re my best friend. I’m not going anywhere,” Cecil said fiercely. 

“And believe it or not, you’re not as alone as you think. There are still people who believe in you. Why wouldn’t they? You were the kind of leader who cared. You never treated us like tools. 

You pushed for better pay, gave us breaks when we needed them, and encouraged us to take vacations even when you didn’t. You fought for us, even when you were breaking inside.”

Aria’s lips quivered. A tear threatened to escape, but she blinked it back. Then she smiled—wide, genuine, the first real smile since everything crumbled around her.

“Thank you, Cecil,” she whispered.

With renewed determination, she folded faster, her hands no longer shaking. Together, they packed her things. 

After packing, Cecil took out piles and piles of documents from a paper bag and placed it on the table, earning a stunned look from Aria.

“What are those?” Aria asked.

“These are from my parents. They have gathered some documents that could possibly help your parents get acquitted. They divided it among the four of us so we could finish quicker,” Cecil said.

Aria stood up from the bed and stretched her arms and back. “Alright, let’s get started!” 

Outside, the streets were alive with celebration. Traffic crawled, horns blaring in frustration, while above, holograms of Elliot and Stella floated like smug deities, basking in the attention of the cheering crowd.

Aria tuned it out.

She buried herself in the documents in her hands, combing through the documents, determined to uncover the truth behind her parents’ downfall.

Cecil glanced over and said casually, “By the way… your wounds. They’re gone. Like completely. And last night, they were deep. What happened?”

Aria froze. Her fingers are still on the paper. A cold sweat crept down her spine.

Mason.

The memory crashed over her like a wave—Mason kissing and sucking her lips, like they were some sweet delicacies.  His tongue trailing along her skin. The sensual look in his eyes when he looked at her like she was something more than broken. Something worth healing.

“I-I don’t know,” Aria stammered. “Maybe... maybe Elliot’s alpha strength isn’t that strong. Because he is a coward hiding behind manipulation and deception, not power.”

Cecil narrowed her eyes. “I’ve seen him injure betas, and their wounds didn’t heal for days. But I’ve also heard… only an alpha can heal a wound inflicted by another alpha. Maybe the Federation Chairman had something to do with it? Maybe he felt sorry for you?”

“Absolutely not!” Aria snapped, too quickly.

Cecil blinked, taken aback. “Well, that was dramatic,” she muttered.

“I just... I don’t remember anything from last night,” Aria added, clearly flustered.

Cecil’s lips curled into a knowing smirk. “You sure about that? Because that blush says otherwise.”

Aria glared at her, ears burning. “Drop it, Cecil.”

Cecil burst out laughing.

And for the first time in days, Aria let herself laugh too—soft, unsure, but real.

As the night goes deeper, the two ladies have almost checked most of the files, but up to that point, they found nothing.

Even as exhaustion settled into Aria’s bones, she pressed on, eyes scanning every word, every line, desperate to find something—anything—that might clear her parents’ names, or at the very least, soften the crushing weight of the accusations against them.

But the fatigue was undeniable.

Despite having slept most of the day, Aria couldn’t stop yawning. Her hands trembled slightly as she flipped through another folder, blinking hard to stay focused.

Cecil finally looked up and gave her a warm yet worried glance. “Aria, you’re drained. Please, go rest. We’ll continue this. You can join me again once you’ve had some sleep.”

Aria yawned but tried to suppress it.

Cecil shook her head and smirked lightly. “You’ve got a long day tomorrow—unless you plan on moping around watching them tie the knot. I heard they’re airing it on national television and livestreaming it on every damn platform.”

Aria’s eyes flared at the mention of it. “Definitely not,” she snapped. “I’ll be in Ravenhold tomorrow. I need to check on my parents. I don’t even know how they’re doing, what they’re eating... if they’re eating at all. I want to bring them food. Real food. Something comforting.”

Cecil nodded in approval. “Good. Then go get some sleep. You’ll need the energy. I’ll finish up here—there’s not much left anyway.”

Moments later, Aria sank into the bed. Her body surrendered to the soft mattress, but her mind still whirled. She reached for the lamp, ready to turn it off, when her phone lit up with a soft chime.

A message...

From Mason...

[I hope your wounds are all healed and you’re feeling better—no hangover, I hope. Goodnight, Ms. Aria Harper.]

Her heart skipped.

A smile bloomed across her face, slow and disbelieving. 'How did he even get my number?' she wondered, brow furrowed. 'Did I give it to him last night before I passed out?'

She racked her memory, but it was blank. That whole evening was wrapped in a haze of heat, pain, and blurred desire.

Still smiling, she typed back. "Thank you… for healing me, and for bringing me back to my room. Goodnight, sweet dreams."

She hit send and finally turned off the lamp. Her phone slipped from her hand as sleep claimed her almost instantly, the trace of Mason’s message still warming her chest like a secret she didn’t know she wanted to keep.

And on the other end of the message? A suppressed smirk that only lasted for a few seconds. Completely hiding it, as if it was a sin.