Chapter 6: The Confrontation

Aria’s POV

I pushed through the doors of Marcellus before I could talk myself out of it.

The hostess looked up with a practiced smile. “Good evening. Do you have a reservation?”

“I’m joining my husband. Jason Hartley. Table twelve.”

Her smile faltered for just a second…long enough for me to know she’d clocked the situation. The wife who wasn’t supposed to be here.

“Of course. Right this way.”

I followed her through the restaurant, past tables of wealthy diners who barely glanced up from their plates. The air smelled like money and secrets, and I hated every inch of this place.

Table twelve was tucked in a corner, intimate and private. Jason had his back partially to me, but I could see Violet clearly. 

She was laughing at something he said, her hand resting on the table near his wine glass.

The hostess cleared her throat. “Mr Hartley?”

Jason turned, and I watched his face change. Surprise. Then irritation. Then something cold and calculating.

“Aria.” He didn’t stand. “What are you doing here?”

“Having dinner with my husband.” I looked at Violet. “Unless I’m interrupting something.”

Violet’s eyes widened, but she recovered quickly. “Aria, no, of course not. Jason and I were just…”

“I don’t care.” I pulled out the empty chair and sat down. “I really don’t care what excuse you’re about to give me.”

The hostess disappeared quickly.

Jason’s jaw tightened. “You need to leave. Now.”

“Why? Because you said this was a client meeting?” I placed my purse on the table. “Funny. Violet doesn’t look like a client.”

“Aria.” His voice was low, warning. “You’re making a scene.”

“Good. Let them watch.” I gestured to the other diners who were now openly staring. 

“Let everyone see Jason Hartley having dinner with his dead girlfriend’s sister while his wife sits at home.”

Violet reached across the table like she wanted to touch my hand. I pulled back.

“Aria, please. Today is Isabelle’s birthday. I just needed someone to talk to…”

“Stop.” The word came out sharper than I intended. “Stop saying her name like it explains everything. Like grieving gives you permission to destroy my marriage.”

“There’s nothing to destroy,” Jason said coldly. “You’re being paranoid.”

I laughed. It sounded broken even to my own ears. 

“Am I? Six months of hotel receipts. Text messages at midnight. Photos of you two together looking like…” I stopped, shook my head. “No. I’m done explaining myself to you.”

Jason leaned forward, his voice dropping to barely above a whisper. “You need to get control of yourself. Right now. Or you’re going to regret this.”

“Is that a threat?”

“It’s a reminder.” His grey eyes were ice. “The prenup, Aria. You have eight months left. Eight months to keep your mouth shut and play the dutiful wife. Or you leave with nothing.”

Something snapped inside me.

My hand moved before I could think. The slap echoed across the restaurant, sharp and final.

Jason’s head turned with the impact. A red mark bloomed across his cheek.

The entire restaurant went silent.

He touched his face slowly, his expression unchanging. When he looked back at me, there was nothing in his eyes. No anger, no hurt, nothing.

“Feel better?” he asked quietly.

I stood, my chair scraping against the floor. “Go to hell, Jason.”

“Sit down,” he said. Still quiet. Still controlled. 

“You’re embarrassing yourself.”

“No. You’re embarrassing. This…” I gestured between him and Violet, “…is embarrassing. Two years of this marriage, and you can’t even pretend to respect me enough to hide your affair properly.”

“I’m not having an affair.” His voice was flat. Bored, almost.

“Then what do you call this?”

“Dinner with a family friend. Which is exactly what I’ll tell my lawyers when you try to use this against me.” 

He stood now, towering over me. “Go home, Aria. Sleep off whatever this is. We’ll talk in the morning when you’re rational.”

“I’ve never been more rational in my life.”

“Really? Because you assaulted me in front of fifty witnesses.” He straightened his jacket. 

“That’s not going to look good in divorce proceedings. In fact, I’d say it supports the narrative of an unstable, irrational wife making false accusations.”

The words hit like ice water.

Violet stood too, her voice soft and concerned. “Aria, maybe you should go home. Get some rest. This has clearly been very hard on you…”

“Shut up.” I didn’t look at her. Couldn’t. If I looked at her perfect, sympathetic face, I might hit her too. 

“Just shut up.”

I grabbed my purse and turned to leave.

Jason’s voice followed me. “Eight months, Aria. Behave yourself for eight months, and you’ll walk away with the settlement. Keep acting like this, and you’ll have nothing. Your choice.”

I didn’t respond. Didn’t turn around. I just walked out of Marcellus with my head high and my hand still stinging from the slap.

The cold air hit me like a wall. I stood on the sidewalk, shaking, trying to breathe.

Around me, the city moved on. Cars passed. People walked by. The world kept turning like my marriage hadn’t just ended in front of fifty strangers.

I got in my car and drove home on autopilot.

-----

The penthouse was dark when I arrived. Empty. I turned on every light as I moved through the rooms, suddenly desperate to chase away the shadows.

I went to the bedroom…our bedroom, his bedroom…and started pulling clothes from the closet. Shoes. Dresses. The things I’d bought to fit into his world. I threw them on the bed in angry piles.

My phone buzzed. Jason: “Don’t do anything stupid. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

I threw the phone on the bed and kept packing.

Two suitcases. That’s all I needed. Two suitcases and I could walk away from Jason Hartley and his dead girlfriend and his cold, empty penthouse.

I zipped up the last bag and looked around the room one final time.

Two years of my life. Gone.

I grabbed my suitcases and walked out, leaving my wedding ring on the kitchen counter where Jason would find it in the morning.

I didn’t know where I was going.

But anywhere was better than here.