Chapter 12: Meeting Kyle

Aria's POV 

Marcus picked up the check. He held it between his fingers for a long moment, then set it down carefully on his desk.

“This case will be a nightmare,” he said finally. “Your brother will drag it through the courts. It could take months, maybe a year.”

“Then we fight for a year,” Kyle said simply.

Marcus looked at me. “Ms Myles, are you prepared for that? For Jason to air every detail of your marriage in court? For him to make this as painful as possible?”

I thought about the bruise on my cheek. The threats. The two years of being invisible.

“Yes,” I said. “I’m ready.”

Marcus sighed and pulled the check toward him. “Then I’ll need you to come back tomorrow morning. Nine AM. We’ll go through everything in detail and start building the case.”

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“Don’t thank me yet.” He stood and extended his hand. “This is just the beginning.”

I shook his hand, then followed Kyle out of the office.

We walked down the hallway in silence. The receptionist watched us leave with wide eyes, clearly checking Kyle out..

When we reached the elevator, Kyle pressed the button and turned to me.

“Are you hungry?”

I blinked. “What?”

“Food. You know, that thing people eat when they’re stressed out of their minds.” He smiled. “There’s a place around the corner. Nothing fancy, but they make a decent burger.”

“I should probably go home…”

“To what? An empty penthouse and Jason’s hangover?” Kyle shook his head. “Come on. One meal. Then I’ll make sure you get home safely.”

“Okay,” I said. “One drink.”

The restaurant was called Murphy’s, a small Irish pub tucked between two office buildings. 

It was the kind of place businessmen went for lunch, not fancy enough for Jason’s world but comfortable in a worn, lived-in way.

Kyle led me to a booth in the back. A waitress appeared almost immediately, smiling at Kyle as she knew him.

“The usual?” she asked.

“Please. And whatever the lady wants.”

I ordered a burger and a glass of wine. The waitress disappeared.

Kyle leaned back against the worn leather booth, studying me. “So. Aria Myles.”

“So. Kyle Hartley.”

“That’s me.” He spread his hands. “Jason’s disappointing half-brother. The one who didn’t get the company or the trust fund or the fancy penthouse.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m a bastard. Literally.” He said it without bitterness, just stating a fact. 

“My mom was our father’s secretary. Classic story. When she got pregnant, he paid her to keep quiet and gave me his last name but not much else.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I did fine.” He shrugged. “Went to college, started my own investment firm. Nothing like Hartley Industries, but it’s mine. I built it myself.”

The waitress returned with our drinks. Kyle raised his beer.

“To freedom,” he said. “Or at least the start of it.”

I touched my wine glass to his beer. “To freedom.”

We drank.

“Can I ask you something?” I said.

“Anything.”

“Why are you really helping me?”

Kyle set his beer down carefully. “Honest answer?”

“Please.”

“Because I was at your wedding.” He met my eyes. 

“Two years ago. I came to see what kind of woman had agreed to marry Jason. I stood in the back of the church and watched you walk down that aisle looking at him like he was everything. And I watched him look at you like you were a stranger.”

He paused. “And I thought, ‘She has no idea what she just signed up for.’”

“You could have warned me.”

“Would you have listened?” He smiled sadly. “You were in love. People in love don’t listen to warnings from strangers.”

The food arrived. We ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes.

“You know what the worst part is?” I said finally. “I knew. Some part of me knew he didn’t love me. But I thought if I was patient enough, good enough, quiet enough… maybe he’d change.”

“That’s not your fault.”

“Isn’t it? Marcus was right. I signed that prenup without reading it. I married a man who never promised me anything. I made myself small because I thought that’s what love required.”

“That’s not love,” Kyle said firmly. “That’s survival. There’s a difference.”

I looked up at him. His hazel eyes were warm, sincere. Nothing like Jason’s cold gray stare.

“How are you brothers?” I asked. “You’re nothing alike.”

“Thank God for that.” He grinned. “Jason got our father’s looks and business sense. I got our father’s ability to actually enjoy life.”

“Does he ever?” I heard myself asking. “Enjoy life?”

“Jason?” Kyle shook his head. “Not since Isabelle died. Before that, maybe. I didn’t know him well back then. But after… he turned into ice. Built walls so high no one could reach him.”

“He’s still in love with her.”

“He’s in love with the idea of her,” Kyle corrected. 

“The memory. The what-could-have-been. It’s easier to love a ghost than a real person. Ghosts can’t disappoint you.”

I took another sip of wine. “He told me last night that he married me because he knew he’d never love me. Because it was safer.”

Kyle’s jaw tightened. “He actually said that?”

“Right before he hit me.”

“Jesus.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Aria, I’m sorry. I’m sorry you’ve had to live with that for two years.”

“It’s almost over.” I tried to smile. “Eight months. Maybe less if Marcus can speed things up.”

“Marcus will speed things up. Trust me.” Kyle leaned forward. “And in the meantime, you’ve got me. If Jason tries anything, you call me. Doesn’t matter what time. I’ll be there.”

We finished our meal talking about other things. 

He told me about his investment firm, about the clients he’d poached from under Jason’s nose. 

I told him about my art gallery, about the artists I represented, about the life I’d built outside of my marriage.

It felt normal. Easy. Like talking to an old friend instead of a stranger who’d appeared in my life two weeks ago.

By the time we left Murphy’s, I was actually smiling.

Kyle insisted on driving me home. His car was a black Tesla, newer than Jason’s but less showy.

We pulled up to my building around eight. The lights were on in the penthouse.

Jason was home.

My stomach tightened.

“You okay?” Kyle asked.

“Yeah.” I unbuckled my seatbelt. “Just… reality setting back in.”

“You don’t have to go up there if you don’t want to. I can take you to a hotel.”

I shook my head. “No. Thank you .”

Kyle reached into his jacket and pulled out a card. “My number. Personal line. Call me if you need anything.”

I took the card. Our fingers brushed, just for a second.

“Thank you,” I said. 

“Anytime.” He smiled, and it reached his eyes this time. “Get some rest, Aria. Tomorrow we will start fighting back.”

I got out of the car and walked into my building. When I reached the elevator, I looked back. Kyle was still there, watching to make sure I got inside safely.

I waved. He waved back.

The elevator doors closed.

As I rode up to the penthouse, I realized I was still smiling.