The Ultimatum (2)

Morning light filtered through the blinds, casting prison-bar shadows across Robert Taylor's sleeping form.

Aria shifted in the uncomfortable chair where she'd spent the night, her neck stiff, her mind foggy from fitful sleep interrupted by nurses' checks and the steady beep of monitoring equipment.

The doctor had called it a "cardiac event"—not quite a heart attack, but a warning shot across the bow. "His heart is weakening," Dr. Winters had explained in hushed tones outside the room. "The stress, his age, his previous attack... He needs calm and stability. Another episode like this could be fatal."

Aria rubbed her eyes, smudging yesterday's mascara further.

Her phone showed seventeen missed calls from the office. Monday morning, and for the first time in her working life, she wasn't there to open the doors.

The click of expensive heels announced Victoria's arrival before she appeared in the doorway, immaculate in a dove-gray suit, not a hair out of place despite the early hour.

She carried a leather portfolio and a garment bag that she hung on the back of the door without explanation.

"Good, you're awake," Victoria said. "We have much to discuss before he wakes up."

"I'm not discussing anything until I talk to Dad," Aria replied, keeping her own voice low but firm.

Victoria's smile was thin. "Your father has been sedated for his own good. Dr. Winters assures me he'll sleep until noon." She settled into the chair opposite Aria, crossing her legs at the ankle. "Which gives us exactly four hours to prepare you for your meeting with Xavier Harrington at one o'clock."

"Today?" Aria's exhaustion evaporated in a surge of panic. "That's impossible. I need time to—"

"Time is the one luxury we don't have," Victoria cut in, opening the portfolio. "The contract signing was scheduled for this morning. I've managed to delay by claiming a family emergency—which, thanks to your father's convenient collapse, isn't even a lie."

Aria flinched at the callous description. "I need to understand exactly what's happening with Dad's company before I agree to anything."

Something like respect flickered briefly in Victoria's eyes. "Fair enough. The situation is this: When I married your father, Taylor Architectural Design was already struggling. The recession had hit commercial real estate hard, and your father's refusal to adapt to changing markets his insistence on quality over profit margins was admirable but financially suicidal."

She removed a document from the portfolio, sliding it across the small table between them. "Harringtons offered a lifeline—a series of loans to keep the company afloat while restructuring. Your father, grief-stricken and distracted, signed without reading the fine print."

Aria scanned the document, her business degree allowing her to cut through the legal jargon to the devastating truth. "He put up the company as collateral? All of it?"

"And the house," Victoria added dispassionately. "The house your mother designed, where you grew up. Everything."

Aria's hands trembled as she set down the paper. "Why would he do this?"

"For you." Victoria's answer was unexpected in its simplicity. "He wanted to leave you something of value. He couldn't bear the thought of failing your mother's memory by losing the company they built together."

For a moment, Victoria's mask slipped, revealing something almost human underneath. "I may be many things, Aria, but I'm not blind to love. Your father adores you. Everything he's done… every compromise, every bad decision has been to protect you and your inheritance."

The moment passed quickly as Victoria straightened, her business persona sliding back into place. "Unfortunately, sentiment makes for poor business strategy. The loans are due, and without the Harrington-Pierce-Taylor merger, Xavier has every right to call them in immediately."

"There must be other options," Aria insisted, though her finance training was already calculating the impossibility of raising such capital quickly.

Victoria reached for her phone, tapping through to show Aria a news article from the financial section. "Xavier Harrington doesn't earn his reputation through mercy."

The headline read: "Harrington Consolidated Acquires Failing Johnson Family Hotels; Century-Old Business Dismantled."

"Three generations, destroyed in a week," Victoria narrated as Aria skimmed the article. "The patriarch suffered a stroke when the acquisition was announced. The son committed suicide two days later."

Aria looked up from the screen, nausea rising in her throat. "You're saying he would do this to Dad?"

"I'm saying he has done it, repeatedly, to people far wealthier and more powerful than Robert Taylor." Victoria took back her phone. "Your father's heart couldn't survive it. You know that as well as I do."

Aria glanced at her father's sleeping form, the monitors steadily tracking his fragile heartbeat. The weight of responsibility settled on her shoulders like a physical burden.

"What exactly would this... arrangement... entail?" she finally asked.

Victoria's smile was the satisfied look of a chess player who had maneuvered her opponent exactly where she wanted them. "A marriage contract, initially for one year. Renewable based on both parties' satisfaction. You would become Mrs. Xavier Harrington, fulfill the social obligations that entails, and in exchange, your father's debts would be restructured on favorable terms."

"And if Xavier refuses when he sees it's me and not Vivian?"

"He won't." Victoria's confidence was absolute. "The Harrington matriarch—Eleanor—wants this merger as much as I do. Old money needs new money, and new money needs old connections. Xavier will do as his grandmother wishes, regardless of his personal preferences."

Aria's mind raced through scenarios, seeking escape routes where none existed. "I need to talk to a lawyer. Someone independent."

"There's no time for that," Victoria dismissed. "Besides, the contract is standard for arrangements of this nature."

"Arrangements of this nature," Aria repeated hollowly. "You mean selling me like medieval chattel."

Victoria's laugh was sharp. "Don't be melodramatic. I'm offering you the opportunity to save your father's life and legacy. Many women would kill for the chance to marry Xavier Harrington."

"Then find one of them."

"None of them are Robert Taylor's daughter." Victoria checked her watch. "We need to go. The boutique is expecting us at nine, and you'll need extensive work before you're presentable."

Aria remained seated, one hand reaching for her father's. "I'm not leaving him."

"The nurses have my number. They'll call if there's any change." Victoria stood, smoothing her already perfect suit. "The garment bag contains something suitable for today. Change quickly. The car is waiting."

When Aria didn't move, Victoria sighed theatrically. "Every minute you delay is another minute your father's company inches toward destruction. But by all means, sit there holding his hand if it makes you feel better. I'm sure he'll understand when he wakes up homeless and facing criminal charges."

The threat hung in the air between them, as tangible as the beeping monitors and antiseptic smell.

Aria slowly rose, pressing a kiss to her father's forehead before gathering the garment bag. "I'll check my phone every fifteen minutes," she told the nurse at the station. "Call me if anything changes. Anything at all."

With that, she left with Victoria.