[WARNING: MATURE CONTENT] Aria is forced to take her stepsister's place to save her father's failing company when her stepsister runs away days before her arranged marriage to billionaire Xavier Harrington. What starts as a cold business arrangement, complete with a humiliating contract and separate bedrooms slowly evolves as Xavier reluctantly begins to notice Aria's business brilliance. Just as something real starts to spark between them, Aria's stepsister Vivian returns, determined to reclaim what she abandoned. As Xavier falls for Vivian's manipulations, Aria discovers she's developed genuine feelings for her ice-cold husband. Aria loses everything when the pair orchestrate a vicious scheme to destroy her reputation and force her out until a mysterious benefactor offers her a second chance and the ultimate choice: walk away or get even.
view moreARIA
“These can’t be right.”
I’m hunched over the quarterly reports, eyes burning. The numbers blur, but every column tells the same story—a downward spiral that started three years ago, right around the time Dad married Victoria Pierce.
I tuck a curl behind my ear, not noticing the ink I smear on my cheek. I run the numbers again, hoping they’ll magically change this time.
It’s late. The office emptied out hours ago. I’m twenty-four and somehow always the first one in and the last one out, trying to keep Dad’s legacy from collapsing under all this debt.
All those years grinding away at State for my business degree—on scholarship, unlike Vivian’s fancy private school—didn’t cover any of this. Nobody teaches you how to juggle bills, which creditors to charm, or when to just flat-out beg for more time.
My phone buzzes on the desk. I*******m. I open it without thinking.
Vivian’s face fills my screen, flawless as ever, holding up a champagne glass at the Met Gala. The caption: “Daddy’s princess at the social event of the season! #blessed #MetGala #oldmoney”
And there’s Dad in the background, laughing with a bunch of socialites, wearing a tux I’ve never seen. An event he never mentioned to me.
My throat tightens. I didn’t even know he was in New York.
The office phone rings, making me jump.
“Taylor Architectural, this is Aria.”
“Still working, dear? It’s nearly nine.” Victoria. Her voice is all fake concern, the kind she saves for an audience. “Your father and I are wondering if you’d join us for Sunday dinner this weekend. Vivian will be bringing Xavier Harrington. It would be… nice… to have you there too.”
An afterthought. Always an afterthought.
I glance at the mess of reports. “I have a lot of work to finish.”
“Robert insists,” she cuts in, suddenly all business. “Three o’clock. And Aria? Try to wear something… flattering. The Harringtons are important clients.”
She hangs up before I can respond.
Sunday shows up with that kind of brutal sunshine that makes every flaw stand out. I stare at myself in the mirror: black wrap dress, the most expensive thing I own, clinging in all the wrong places. I spend an hour fighting with my hair, trying to get it to look like Vivian’s, but eventually give up and just pull it into a ponytail.
The drive from my tiny apartment to the Pierce-Taylor mansion takes half an hour, but it feels like landing on another planet.
Where my childhood home used to be—full of my mom’s art and the smell of real food—there’s now this cold, white marble palace. Victoria’s style, not ours.
I park my beat-up Honda next to a row of luxury cars. Dad’s new Mercedes—his “business necessity,” Victoria called it—looks ridiculous next to mine.
A new housekeeper answers the door. Not Mrs. Finch, who practically raised me after Mom got sick. This woman barely glances at me, just tells me, “They’re on the terrace,” and ignores the pastries I brought.
Laughter and the clink of glasses float through the French doors. I hover in the doorway, suddenly super aware of my drugstore perfume and scuffed shoes.
“Aria! There you are.” Dad spots me and stands, smiling, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
He’s aged so much since the wedding—thinner, grayer. Only his eyes look the same as mine.
“Sorry I’m late,” I mumble, even though I’m right on time. “Traffic.”
“You’re here now.” He gives me a quick hug before moving back to Victoria’s side.
Victoria looks perfect, as always. Blonde bob, cream suit, not a wrinkle in sight. “Aria, darling. We were just talking about the Harrington contract. Such an opportunity for your father’s little company.”
Little company.
I bite my tongue at the way she describes what used to be the city’s top architectural firm.
“Where’s Vivian?” I ask, taking a glass of champagne from a server I don’t recognize.
“Running fashionably late, as always.” Victoria flashes that indulgent smile. “She’s bringing Xavier. They’ve been spending so much time together lately. The engagement announcement is basically a formality at this point.”
I nod and slide into a seat at the far end of the table. I’ve never met Xavier Harrington, but his reputation is enough—thirty, ruthless, and already behind three hostile takeovers of family businesses just this year.
Dad tries to loop me in. “Aria’s been working on the quarterly reports.”
Victoria’s smile goes tight. “How… dedicated. Though I’ve always said, Aria, with your… build… you should be careful about hunching over desks all day. Posture is everything.” She grabs a magazine from the side table, flipping it open like it’s nothing. “There’s this article about embracing your natural body type with the right clothes and, of course, proper nutrition.”
I glance down. The headline blares: “Transform Your Body: From Bulky to Beautiful in 30 Days.”
Dad manages a weak protest. “Victoria—”
“I’m only thinking of Aria’s health, Robert.” She pats his hand, all innocence. “Not everyone can be blessed with Vivian’s metabolism.”
Almost on cue, the terrace doors swing open and Vivian sweeps in. At twenty-three, she’s everything I’m not—willowy, blonde, and glowing in a white sundress that probably costs more than my rent.
“Sorry I’m late!” She air-kisses her mom and Dad. “Xavier had an emergency call with Tokyo. He sends his regrets.”
She turns to me with a smile that’s pure surface. “Aria! I didn’t know you were coming. How… nice.”
“I invited her.” For once, Dad’s voice has an edge.
“Of course you did, Daddy.” Vivian settles into the seat across from me, giving my dress a once-over that says plenty before she moves on. “Mother, you’ll never guess who I ran into at Elevation last night. The Worthingtons. They asked about you.”
And just like that, I disappear. The conversation flows around me—old family names, exclusive events, mutual connections. It’s a language I’ll never be fluent in.
I watch Dad through the meal. He barely touches his food, and every so often, his hand drifts to his chest when he thinks no one’s looking. The lines around his eyes are deeper than I remember. His shoulders seem to fold in on themselves.
Victoria’s voice snaps me back. “Aria, Vivian was just sharing the wonderful news. The Harrington-Pierce wedding will be the social event of the year. The contract is being finalized this week.”
“Contract?” The word slips out before I can stop it.
Victoria laughs—sharp and brittle. “The marriage contract, darling. In families like the Harringtons and ours, these things are handled properly. Old money meets new money—it’s practically a fairy tale.”
“Congratulations.” I look at Vivian, but she barely flicks a manicured hand in acknowledgment.
“Xavier’s grandmother wants a June ceremony at their estate,” Vivian goes on. “Only three hundred guests. Intimate, for the Harringtons.”
Talk shifts to flowers and guest lists. I notice Dad wincing, his hand pressed to his sternum.
I lean in, keeping my voice low. “Dad? Are you okay?”
“Fine, fine.” He waves me off. “Just indigestion.”
But his eyes tell a different story. Pain, fear, and something else—something that looks a lot like giving up.
Three hours later, I find a fashion magazine on the passenger seat of my car. I know I didn’t put it there. Vivian’s on the cover, beaming from her latest modeling campaign. A yellow sticky note marks an article inside: “When Curves Become Concern: Health Risks of Excess Weight.”
Victoria’s perfect handwriting curls in the margin: Thought of you, dear. Just concerned about your health. —V
I crumple the note in my fist, tears stinging at the corners of my eyes as I start the engine.
In the rearview mirror, Victoria’s silhouette stands at an upstairs window, perfectly still and perfectly poised, watching me as the sun sets behind her.
VIVIANXavier recovers quickly.By the time the woman reaches us, we're both wearing our best social smiles, even though I can feel mine trembling at the edges."Mr. Harrington, Ms. Taylor," one of her entourage smiles. "Allow me to introduce Ms. Elizabeth Sinclair, CEO of Sinclair Technologies."Elizabeth Sinclair.I should be relieved. I should be relaxing, because this is our business partner, our golden ticket, the woman who's going to secure my future. But I can't relax, because something about this is all wrong. The way she's looking at us, the way Xavier's hands are trembling almost imperceptibly, the way my instincts are screaming that I'm in danger."Ms. Sinclair," Xavier says smoothly, extending his hand. "What an honor to finally meet you in person."She takes his hand, and I swear I see something pass between them."The honor is mine, Mr. Harrington," she replies in a voice like honey over steel.Smooth, cultured, with just a hint of an accent that makes her sound even more
VIVIANThe camera flashes are blinding as Xavier and I step out of the limo with his hand resting lightly on my back.My smile is wide, polished, and practiced. Months of pretending have made it second nature. To the world watching, we’re the perfect power couple: rich, beautiful, untouchable.If only they knew how much I want to claw his eyes out right now.“Smile wider,” Xavier mutters under his breath with his megawatt grin locked in place as reporters shout questions at us.“I am smiling,” I shoot back through gritted teeth, keeping my expression picture-perfect.“Ms. Taylor! How are you feeling about tonight?”“Mr. Harrington! Have you set a wedding date yet?”“Are the rumors about the triple merger true?”I wave at the crowd, graceful and poised, playing my part like the seasoned performer I am. This is what I’m good at—charming, dazzling, making everyone believe in the fantasy. Even if that fantasy is crumbling faster than anyone realizes.We glide through the marble lobby of th
VIVIANThe sound of skin slapping against skin echoes down the hallway, followed by breathless moans that make my stomach drop.My chest tightens, and for a moment, I can’t move. I’m frozen outside the guest bedroom door with my fingers gripping the crystal doorknob so hard my knuckles turn white.The noises are unmistakable. Raw, intimate, and absolutely soul-crushing.Not again.My heart pounds so hard it feels as though it’s trying to break free from my chest. Slowly, I twist the handle and slowly push the door open just a crack. What I see on the other side confirms my worst fears.Xavier is bent over the mahogany desk, his shirt tossed carelessly on the floor and his muscular back glistening with sweat.Beneath him is one of the newer maids with auburn hair and wide, innocent eyes, gripping the edge of the desk as her uniform bunched around her waist.Her face is flushed and her lips parted in pleasure.“Yes, Mr. Harrington,” she gasps between moans. “Please... don’t stop.”I fee
The tension in the small space becomes almost suffocating. The elevator is designed to impress, with its crystal fixtures and gold accents, but right now it feels more like a pressure cooker about to explode.Silence stretches between them as the elevator begins its ascent.Sophia's eyes remain fixed on Aria constantly, studying every detail of her appearance, every nuance of her behavior. She's trying to reconcile what she's seeing with what she thinks she knows, and the cognitive dissonance is clearly eating away at her composure.‘It can't be her’, Sophia's thoughts scream, even as the evidence mounts before her eyes. ‘Aria Taylor was fat, plain, pathetic. She had no style, no grace, no presence whatsoever. This woman is elegant, sophisticated, powerful. She has breeding, class, everything that little nobody lacked. But there's something about her smile, the way she tilts her head, the curve of her lips...’The memories come flooding back unbidden—Aria at family dinners, trying so h
Sophia stands with the poise of someone born into wealth and privilege at the building's elaborate entrance.A string of pearls adorns her neck and her makeup is flawless. However, something shifts in her expression the moment her eyes land on their esteemed guest, Elizabeth Sinclair.Her confident smile falters for just a fraction of a second, and her sharp blue eyes narrow slightly as they study the latter’s face with an intensity that makes the air between them crackle with tension.There's a flicker of recognition—or perhaps confusion—like she's seeing a ghost or trying to solve a puzzle that's just out of reach.Her perfectly composed mask wavers again as she tilts her head almost imperceptibly, her gaze lingering on Aria's eyes, then her cheekbones, as if searching for something familiar in the shadows of her face.But then, just as quickly as it appeared, the moment passes once more.Sophia blinks, and her practiced composure snaps back into place.The confusion is buried benea
ARIAThe convoy pulls up to the Harrington building like something out of a blockbuster movie, a spectacle that could make even world leaders jealous.I watch through the tinted windows as six black luxury vehicles glide in perfect formation around us, flanked by motorcycle escorts whose engines rumble with authority that shakes the downtown streets.One of the Bentley’s in the convoy rolls to a stop at the entrance, where a red carpet stretches out, waiting for tonight's most anticipated guest.Me.Camera flashes explode like fireworks outside, illuminating the crowd of reporters and onlookers who've been camped out for hours, desperate to catch a glimpse of the elusive Elizabeth Sinclair."Ready, Mrs. Sinclair?" Mei's voice cuts through the hum of anticipation in the car.Her tone is calm, but I can see the flicker of excitement she can't quite hide. She's been waiting for this moment almost as much as I have, having been by my side through every painstaking detail of preparation.I
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