ARIAMy phone starts buzzing at 5:17 AM with text messages, email notifications, news alerts, and voicemails arriving in such rapid succession the device nearly vibrates off my nightstand.The intrusion jolts me from uneasy sleep with my hand fumbling in the darkness to silence the persistent noise.Fifteen missed calls. Twenty-seven text messages. Forty-three emails. Ninety-eight news alerts.Something has happened.The first text comes from Dave: "Call immediately. Media situation developing."The second from Felicia: "Don't check social media. Coming to your apartment. Don't speak to anyone."The third from Michael: "Stay indoors and away from social media.”My stomach drops as I open a news alert from the Business Chronicle: "Harrington Consolidated Executive Aria Harrington in Late-Night Hotel Scandal."The accompanying photo shows me entering The Luxes Suite with a man’s hand possessively placed on my lower back. The timestamp indicates it was taken the night I was drugged.My e
ARIATwo days have passed since the incident at The Luxes Suite, and I still can't shake the dizziness. It hits in waves, leaving me gripping furniture just to stay upright.My memories are a mess: fragments scattered here and there, but the blanks bother me more than what I do remember.What happened during those missing hours? And what could've happened if someone hadn't stepped in?I drive carefully to a medical center on the other side of town, deliberately picking a place far removed from the Harrington family's massive healthcare empire. Westside Medical Associates is exactly what I need: unremarkable.Here, I'm not Aria Taylor-Harrington, corporate rising star and estranged wife of Xavier Harrington. I'm just another patient waiting to be seen."Aria Taylor?" A nurse calls my name, using only my maiden name I requested when I made the appointment.Dr. Sarah Winters' office is calm and inviting, with soft blue walls and certificates that don't scream "Look at me!" Her desk is sm
ARIAI come to in pieces, like someone slowly putting together a broken puzzle.Random sensations filter through the fog in my brain and the sunlight stream through partially closed blinds creating patterns across a familiar ceiling. Golden bars that shift and dance with the gentle movement of tree branches outside my window.I realize I’m in my own apartment.How did I get here?Disorientation hits me first then fragmented memories of the previous night float through my mind. Xavier's cold smile as he handed me the champagne. The gradual numbness spreading through my limbs. The hotel room. The stranger that almost raped me. The mysterious rescuer in the dark hoodie.The familiar scent of my lavender linen spray provides momentary comfort before reality crashes back. I realize I'm still fully clothed in my now-rumpled outfit. However, someone has removed my shoes, placing them neatly at the foot of the bed.My mouth feels desert-dry, and tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth.My hea
ARIAMy eyelids weigh a ton, barely opening no matter how hard I try. My limbs won't move. They feel heavy as concrete, as though disconnected from my brain.I strain with everything I have to wiggle just one finger, but nothing responds, not even a twitch.The terrifying part? My mind works fine while my body's completely useless. Crystal clear thoughts trapped in a body that won't obey. I'm a prisoner in my own skin as Xavier places me on a bed like a mannequin.I make out fragments of the hotel suite through barely parted lids: luxurious, grand, and unmistakably different from the one Dave described. Panic curls in my chest. This isn’t the Presidential suite. Xavier must’ve noticed something and changed the plan. If that’s true... I’m big in trouble.Then another terrifying realization strikes me.My neck feels bare.The pearl necklace with the hidden camera is gone.My breath hitches. When did I lose it? I comb through blurred memories, but nothing comes. I have no doubt Xavier t
ARIAEvening comes too fast.I wear a tiny recording device hidden in a pearl pendant that looks expensive enough to match my outfit but works perfectly to record whatever happens.I’ve instructed Dave to call me every thirty minutes, giving me a reason to check my phone regularly.Most importantly, I make sure to take activated charcoal. It won't completely stop drugs, but it might slow them down enough to keep me functioning.Looking in the mirror, I see a woman ready for battle. My deep red lipstick stands out against my brown skin. My hair is pulled back tight. My eyes, though, show my tension.I take a deep breath, steadying myself for what's coming.I walk into The Luxes Suite's fancy restaurant at 7:55 PM.Crystal chandeliers throw warm light over white tablecloths and shiny silverware with soft jazz playing in the background.The host greets me with practiced smoothness before leading me through the dining room where rich people talk in hushed voices.I scan each table as we p
ARIAXavier approaches me in the parking garage the next morning, his manner surprisingly friendly.I brace myself and square my shoulders."Aria, I think we've let this situation get way too nasty." His voice bounces slightly off the concrete walls.He's dressed perfectly as always in a charcoal suit.I keep my distance, very aware we're in a blind spot between security cameras. The garage's pillars block the view from both directions.Not a coincidence, I'm sure."Really? The bugs in my house and threats suggest otherwise.""Maybe things have gone too far on both sides." His tone is all friendly and body language open. "I propose we talk about divorce terms like adults over dinner. On neutral ground.""Why the sudden change of heart?" I study his face, looking for tells.The tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth. The fake warmth that doesn't reach his eyes all suggest something fishy."The board's concerned. I'm just being practical." He shrugs, too casual to be real. "This battle
ARIAI head to Xavier’s office the next morning, closing the door behind me.The familiar scent of Vivian’s strong cologne turns my stomach.He sits behind his massive mahogany desk like a physical barrier between us and a symbol of the power he thinks gives him the right to invade my privacy."Surveillance, Xavier? Really? That's your play now?""I don't know what you're talking about." His fingers continue typing on his keyboard, not even bothering to look up at me."The bugs in my suite. The security restrictions. Reassigning Rebecca."Xavier finally leans back in his chair with his expression cold. "Business decisions, all of them. Nothing personal.""We both know that's a lie." My voice remains steady, controlled, though my hands shake with rage.Xavier flash me a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "Be careful, Aria. You should consider your safety before continuing this... resistance. Things can happen. Accidents. Misunderstandings." He adjusts his platinum cufflinks with deliber
ARIAAnother sleepless night spent staring at the ceiling passes before I finally drag myself out of bed, bracing for yet another draining day ahead.Xavier hasn’t returned home since the divorce battle began and honestly, I prefer it that way. In this house, with enemies lurking behind every polished smile, one mistake could cost me everything… even my life.The lights of the convention center ballroom blaze down on me as I prepare to give the keynote at the Annual Financial Innovation Summit.The room buzzes with industry leaders sipping champagne. My keynote. My moment."You ready?" Rebecca asks, offering a glass of water."Born ready." I smooth the lapel of my red suit. I don’t blend in. I stand out. “Mrs. Harrington,” the summit organizer calls me.“I’d prefer to be addressed as Ms. Taylor. Professionally,” I correct her with a calm smile and a subtle separation from Xavier’s shadow as I take the stage.My accolades are listed: my consultancy roots, my innovations, the 30% intern
ARIAMorning light filters through my office blinds as I methodically skim through evidence of my contributions to Harrington.I pull up emails showing my strategic input on our most successful projects.Financial reports tell their own story. I create a spreadsheet tracking quarterly growth under my financial direction, highlighting the upward trajectory since I took over as CFO.The numbers don't lie—our profitability has increased consistently under my leadership."Rebecca," I call through the intercom. "Could you gather the client testimonials from the Asian projects and the Davidson account? The ones where they specifically mentioned my involvement?"She appears in my doorway minutes later, files in hand. "I added the Archer Group testimonial too. They were explicit about working with us because of your reputation.""Perfect!" I smile gratefully. "And could you pull the documentation on the automated reporting system I implemented last year? The one that reduced our quarterly clo