Chapter 5

“Don’t do this, Aria.”

Lucas’s sharp murmur echoed faintly, creeping coldly through the cabin of his Maybach, parked directly across from NYU’s School of Architecture. The Manhattan dusk cast a pale golden light, a boundary between day and night that perfectly mirrored the increasingly shattered state of mind of the Sterling Corp. CEO.

Aria’s poisonous whisper from the New York Fashion Week gala dinner the night before kept replaying in his mind like a broken cassette tape, stabbing at his ears. She had spoken those words with the most graceful smile in front of hundreds of flashing media cameras, yet they had felt like a devastating blow that shattered the entire fortress of his ego.

Aria had not been bluffing. She was truly counting down the days until her freedom, and Lucas had only just realized how slowly he had responded to that threat.

Behind the car’s darkened windows, Lucas’s black eyes remained fixed on the figure in the loose blazer inside the campus atrium. Beyond the transparent glass walls, Aria was defending her structural steel model draft before two senior professors known for being the most critical at NYU.

Aria argued with clarity, rationality, and an irresistibly confident presence. There was not the slightest trace of anxiety as her ideas were challenged. No pleading looks for leniency, and absolutely no attempt to capitalize on the Sterling name that others so often revered.

She stood tall, relying solely on her own abilities.

Inside the piercing silence of the car, Lucas’s grip on the steering wheel tightened until his knuckles turned white, crushing into the synthetic leather. For the first time in his life, profound admiration managed to penetrate the fortress of his arrogance.

Yet that admiration came laced with a terrifying poison. Aria Thorne had never hated him, nor had she desired him. She simply did not care. And the fact that Aria did not need him at all ignited a fear Lucas had never experienced before: the fear of losing her.

Suddenly, the shrill vibration of his work phone on the dashboard shattered the silence. *Chloe’s* name flashed across the screen.

Lucas snatched up the phone and swiped the green button with a rough motion.

“Lucas, please help me...” Chloe’s voice came through in a sweet, pleading tone, punctuated by the theatrical sobs she had so often used to indulge herself. “My head hurts so badly... I can’t think. I want you to come to my apartment right now...”

“Call a doctor. Never call me again,” Lucas cut in. His voice was low, cold, and utterly devoid of hesitation.

“But Lucas! After last night’s event, the media have started spinning stories about our relationship, and...”

“My assistant will handle your media problem. We’re done, Chloe.”

*Beep.*

Lucas ended the call unilaterally and tossed the expensive phone onto the passenger seat. Without wasting another second, he slammed his foot onto the accelerator. The Maybach roared as it cut through the crawling Manhattan traffic toward the *penthouse*. A growing sense of panic pressed heavily against his chest all the way there.

The sound of Lucas’s hurried footsteps echoed through the tiled corridor on the fifty-fifth floor. His hand trembled slightly as he tapped his access card. The *penthouse* door opened with a lingering click.

Yet his steps abruptly stopped in the *foyer*.

Empty.

The *penthouse* suddenly felt unfamiliar, cold, and suffocating. There was no scent of freshly brewed coffee drifting from the kitchen, no soft jazz playing from the guest room, and no rustle of blueprint paper that usually filled the center table.

“Aria?” he called.

His voice hung in the empty air.

There was no answer.

Lucas moved quickly, nearly running toward the room on the right, Aria’s private space. The thick wooden door stood wide open.

The room was sterile. The wardrobe gaped open, not a single piece of Aria’s clothing left inside. Her model drafts, rolls of tracing paper, and thick architecture books were gone without a trace. Even the strips of adhesive tape that had once marked off sections of the living room floor, the lines Lucas had mocked as childish, had been removed until not a trace remained.

Aria Thorne was truly gone.

Lucas’s breathing quickened, his chest rising and falling as his fear became reality. “No... it hasn’t been two years yet.”

He turned sharply toward the living room, his eyes darting wildly until they locked onto three objects arranged with meticulous neatness on the glass table: the *penthouse* keys, the untouched white-gold wedding ring, and a thick brown envelope bearing the official seal of a law office.

With violently trembling hands, Lucas tore open the envelope and pulled out the documents inside.

**DRAFT DIVORCE AGREEMENT AND EARLY CONTRACT SETTLEMENT**

Lucas felt as though his heart stopped beating that instant.

The document had been prepared with clinical precision by an independent attorney. Aria had deposited the entire remaining balance of her initial compensation into a legal escrow account, proving that her architecture exhibition had received full funding from independent sponsors. Aria no longer needed a single cent from Sterling Group. She had exited the agreement early, professionally paying the entire cancellation penalty stipulated in the contract.

Attached to the final page was a small note in Aria’s neat, firm handwriting:

*“Our transaction has concluded sooner than expected, Mr. Sterling. My father’s debt is fully paid, my exhibition is secure, and I have returned your money in full through the legal escrow account. Thank you for your cooperation, but my freedom is far more valuable than being part of your family’s charade.”*

Lucas crushed the paper in his hand, his fingers crumpling the edge of the document. His eyes stared blankly ahead, holding back a storm of emotions as they fixed on the white-gold ring gleaming coldly on the table.

Once, he had regarded this marriage as an empty burden and a contemptible business transaction. But now, with Aria walking out of his life and severing that bond in the most dignified way possible, it was Lucas who felt lost and shattered to pieces.

Ten million dollars could not hold her.

His proud status as CEO of Sterling Group could not persuade her.

Lucas picked up the cold ring and clenched it tightly in his palm until its engraved gold pressed into his skin. Then, with his jaw clenched in full-blown obsession, he whispered sharply:

“You think you can just walk away from me, Aria? This charade has only just begun.”

**To Be Continued**