The Ultimatum

A sudden call at 2:17 AM jolted Aria from a restless sleep filled with dreams of drowning in red ink and balance sheets.

"You need to come now!" Victoria's voice was brittle with fury, lacking its usual veneer of false warmth. "Immediately."

"What's happened? Is it Dad?" Aria was already fumbling for the light switch, heart hammering against her ribs.

"Just get here." The line went dead after that.

Outside, the night had turned hostile. Rain lashed against Aria's windshield as she navigated the winding road up to the mansion, each lightning flash illuminating the path ahead for terrifying seconds before plunging her back into darkness.

Her wipers fought a losing battle against the downpour, much like her struggle to keep her father's company afloat.

By the time she reached the house, Aria was soaked from the brief dash from car to door.

The housekeeper didn't greet her this time; instead, Victoria herself stood in the marble foyer, still dressed in evening clothes, her perfect makeup now streaked with mascara tears that looked almost theatrical in their precision.

"Where is she?" Victoria demanded, her voice echoing off the cold surfaces.

"Who? What's happened?" Aria pushed wet hair from her face. "Is Dad okay?"

"Your precious father is upstairs, sedated," Victoria spat the words. "After what your sister has done, it's a miracle he didn't have another heart attack."

Another. The word hit Aria. "Another? When did he have a heart attack? Why wasn't I told?"

Victoria waved away the question with a diamond-laden hand. "Six months ago. Minor. We handled it privately. Follow me."

Aria's mind reeled as she followed Victoria up the sweeping staircase. Six months of her father's suffering, hidden from her. Six months of a potentially fatal condition, kept secret while she worked alongside him every day.

Victoria threw open the door to Vivian's suite with such force that it slammed against the wall. The room beyond looked like it had been ransacked. Drawers were pulled open, clothes strewn across the king-sized bed, jewelry boxes emptied on the plush carpet.

"She's gone," Victoria said, trembling with rage. "Eloped. With that... that model." She spat the word like it was obscene. "A nobody with a pretty face and not a penny to his name."

Aria stood frozen in the doorway, trying to process the scene. "Eloped? But what about Xavier? The contract—"

"The contract that was to be signed tomorrow," Victoria finished, sinking on the edge of the bed. "The contract that would have saved your father's company. The contract that would have secured our position with the Harringtons." She looked up, her eyes suddenly sharp despite the tears. "The contract you will now fulfill!"

The words hung in the air between them, impossible and absurd.

"What are you talking about?" Aria finally managed.

Victoria rose and crossed to Vivian's desk, picking up a tablet. "My daughter was kind enough to leave this behind in her haste. With all her communications with her... lover." She thrust the device at Aria. "Read it."

The screen showed a series of text messages between Vivian and someone named Diego:

Vivian: It's all arranged. Tickets to Santorini. We leave tonight while everyone's at the Hendersons' gala.

Diego: What about the contract? Your mother will kill you.

Vivian: Let her try. I've transferred enough money to keep us comfortable for years. Xavier Harrington can find another society bride to warm his bed. I choose you.

Diego: Your sister? Could she take your place?

Vivian: Aria? Don't be ridiculous. Xavier would never accept that fat, boring substitute. Besides, she's not a Pierce. Mother only tolerates her because of Robert.

Aria's hands shook as she read the cruel words, each one slicing deeper than the last. She looked up to find Victoria watching her with calculated intensity.

"Your sister has destroyed everything we've worked for," Victoria said, her voice now eerily calm. "Unless you take her place."

"That's insane," Aria whispered. "Xavier Harrington doesn't even know me. He'd never agree—"

"He doesn't need to know until it's too late," Victoria cut in. "The initial contract doesn't specify which daughter. It simply states 'daughter of Victoria Pierce and stepdaughter of Robert Taylor.' A deliberate ambiguity I insisted upon, thank God."

"You can't be serious." Aria backed away, bumping into a mannequin displaying what must have been Vivian's wedding genre of silk and lace that would never fit Aria's curves.

"Oh, I'm deadly serious." Victoria advanced on her. "Your father's company owes millions to Harringtons. Loans that Xavier can call in at any moment without this merger. Loans that your father secured with everything he owns."

"I'll find another way," Aria insisted. "We can restructure, find new investors—"

"There is no other way!" Victoria's composure shattered. "And that's not all. Your father's tax situation for the past years has been... creative. Necessary adjustments I made to keep us afloat while he was drowning in grief over your mother."

Ice formed in Aria's veins. "What did you do?"

"What I had to do." Victoria's eyes were flinty. "And I have every document, every falsified form, every manipulated number saved. If you refuse to cooperate, I'll turn them over to the authorities myself."

"You'd destroy him?" Aria stared at the woman her father had chosen to replace her mother. "You'd send your own husband to prison?"

"To save myself? Without hesitation." Victoria's smile was terrible in its honesty. "Your father is a means to an end, Aria. He always has been. The Taylors were respectable enough to give the Pierces the veneer of old money we needed. The Harringtons will give us the actual money we need."

A crash from down the hall interrupted Victoria's chilling confession. Aria ran toward the sound, her heart in her throat.

Her father's bedroom door stood ajar. Inside, Robert Taylor lay crumpled on the floor beside his bed, one hand clutching his chest, the other outstretched toward a spilled bottle of pills that had scattered across the hardwood like tiny white stars.

"Dad!" Aria fell to her knees beside him, gathering his frail body into her arms. His skin was clammy, his breathing labored. "Call an ambulance!"

Victoria appeared in the doorway, surveying the scene. "His medication is right there. Two pills under the tongue should stabilize him. Unless you'd prefer to wait for an ambulance while I make a call to the IRS."

Aria's hands shook as she retrieved two small tablets from the floor, gently placing them under her father's tongue. His eyes fluttered open, focusing on her face with effort.

"Aria," he whispered. "My girl. I'm sorry. So sorry."

"Don't talk, Dad," she soothed, tears falling on his ashen face. "Just breathe."

"The company," he gasped. "My legacy to you. I've ruined it."

"Shh, it's okay. We'll fix it." She looked up at Victoria, still watching from the doorway with the dispassionate interest of a scientist observing a lab experiment. "We need to get him to a hospital."

"What we need," Victoria replied coldly, "Is your answer. Will you take Vivian's place, or shall I make that call?"

Robert's fingers tightened around Aria's wrist. "What's happening?" he wheezed.

Aria looked down at her father. The man who had taught her to ride a bicycle, who had held her through the long nights of her mother's illness, who had somehow lost his way in grief and Victoria's manipulations. His eyes, so like her own, pleaded for reassurance she wasn't sure she could give.

"Nothing, Dad," she whispered, smoothing his thinning hair back from his forehead. "Everything's going to be okay."

She looked back at Victoria, standing tall and unbroken in the doorway, the tablet with Vivian's damning messages still clutched in her manicured hand like a weapon.

"I'll do it," Aria said, the words tasting like ash in her mouth. "I'll take her place."

Victoria's smile was a victory flag planted on a battlefield of Aria's surrender. "Wise choice. I'll call Dr. Winters. He's discreet."

She turned to leave, then paused. "Oh, and Aria? You'll need to start a rather aggressive diet immediately. We have six weeks to make you... presentable."

As Victoria's footsteps faded down the hall, Aria held her father close, feeling his heartbeat gradually steady beneath her palm. Outside, lightning split the sky, illuminating the room in harsh white light that revealed the full measure of what she had just agreed to.

In the flash, she caught sight of herself in her father's mirror—soaking wet and cradling the broken man who had once been her hero. Behind her reflection, just visible on the nightstand, sat a framed photograph of her mother, smiling and beautiful in the summer before her diagnosis.

"I don't know what to do, Mom," Aria whispered to the photograph as darkness reclaimed the room. "I don't know how to save him from her."