บททั้งหมดของ Reborn To Break His Heart : บทที่ 41 - บทที่ 50

The question came like a blade.“Ms. Whitmore did Ethan Blackwood really die by accident, or did you benefit from his death?”The press hall went silent.Aria’s breath stalled, just for a second.Cameras zoomed in. Microphones tilted forward like weapons. The words Ethan’s death echoed in her skull, sharp and merciless, dragging memory with it the hospital hallway, the long nights of silence, the grief that never fully left, only learned how to stay quiet.She stood at the podium, spine straight, expression composed. She had faced rumors, sabotage, and betrayal but this was different.This was personal.The journalist stepped forward again, emboldened by the hush. “There are whispers that your rapid rise within Blackwood Holdings coincided quite conveniently with Ethan Blackwood’s passing. Care to explain that timing?”A murmur rippled through the room.Aria opened her mouth.But Damian moved first.He stepped forward, placing himself half a step in front of her not touching her, not

Rumors had teeth.They snapped at Aria from every direction the moment she stepped into the building the next morning muted conversations halting mid-sentence, sideways glances from executives who usually met her eyes with respect, phones hastily slipped into pockets when she passed.She felt it before she heard it.By the time she reached her office, Lila was already there, tablet in hand, expression tight. “You should see this before the board does.”Aria set her bag down slowly. “Show me.”The article was circulating quietly, like poison delivered in silk. No direct accusations. No hard claims. Just implications dressed as insider knowledge.Damian Blackwood’s meteoric rise may not be as solitary as he portrays…Sources allege betrayal from a former romantic partner an executive who vanished after a catastrophic internal breach years ago…Some question whether history is repeating itself.Aria’s jaw clenched.They weren’t just digging at Damian.They were aiming through him.“Who’s

Marcus sends Aria flowers. Damian sees them, his expression hardens. He says nothing, but his silent rage speaks volumes.The flowers arrived just past noon.Aria was midway through a briefing when the assistant hesitated at the door, eyes flicking behind her, expression curious.“Ms. Vale,” she said, stepping in carefully, “there is a delivery for you.”“A delivery?” Aria didn’t look up immediately. “I’m not expecting anything.”“They are flowers.”That made her pause.“Send them back,” she said automatically. “We don’t take personal deliveries during”“They are already here,” the assistant added softly. “And they are from Marcus Hale.”That got her full attention.Aria set the tablet down slowly. “Excuse me?”The assistant stepped aside, revealing the massive arrangement just outside the office white calla lilies, deep red roses, sleek and deliberate in design. Not sentimental. The kind of flowers chosen to make a statement.Aria exhaled through her nose. “Of course he did.”She ro

The night had stretched thin around Aria, the city outside muted and distant, as though even the lights knew to soften themselves. She hadn’t gone home. After Damian left earlier, she’d remained in her office, not working, not thinking just existing in the quiet that came after breaking and not fully putting yourself back together.Her heels were off. Her blazer hung over the back of the chair. She sat curled slightly on the couch by the windows, knees drawn up, staring at nothing in particular.The letter was locked away again.For now.A soft knock sounded at the door.Aria stiffened instinctively. She hadn’t expected anyone. The board floor was usually empty at this hour.“It’s me,” Damian said through the door.She closed her eyes briefly, then let out a breath. “You didn’t have to come back.”“I know,” he replied evenly. “May I?”She nodded, then remembered he couldn’t see her. “Yes.”The door opened quietly.Damian stepped in, jacket off, sleeves rolled up, no phone in his hand.

The hotel was quieter than Aria expected.It was past ten, the polished halls warm with soft lighting and hushed footsteps. Outside the tall glass windows, Italy stretched into the night—golden streetlamps, distant voices, the faint echo of traffic far below. Everything felt intimate. Too intimate.She rolled her small suitcase behind her as Damian walked a few steps ahead, phone pressed to his ear.“Yes,” he said into it. “I’m sure. We checked twice.”A pause.His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.“No. That won’t work.”Another pause.Aria slowed, already sensing what was coming.“I understand that,” Damian said coolly. “But this is a scheduling issue on your end, not ours.”He stopped walking.Aria stopped too.Damian lowered the phone, exhaled once through his nose, then ended the call. He turned to her, expression unreadable.“There’s a problem,” he said.Aria arched her brow. “How severe?”“The hotel is fully booked due to the summit,” he replied. “They have one room available.