Just as Harrison and Aria reached the massive front doors, Eleanor’s voice cut across the hall. Trembling, but clear.
“It wasn’t a question.”
She was doubling down on the lie. It was the only path left.
Harrison stopped. His hand stayed on the doorknob. He turned slowly, his face a mask of scorn and disbelief. “I’m pregnant,” she said, and forced herself to meet his icy stare.
He dragged his eyes over her from head to toe, a slow, insulting sweep. “You’d use a lie like that for money? Eleanor, your methods are getting more pathetic by the day.”
Aria stepped forward, her expression shaped into gentle concern. “Eleanor, you shouldn’t joke about something so serious. Would you like me to make an appointment with my doctor for you? Just to be sure.” The offer was wrapped in the sweet poison of her pity.
Eleanor straightened her spine, pulling up strength from somewhere deep and almost empty. She looked directly at Harrison. “Give me the money. After my grandfather’s surgery is done, I’ll give you a doctor’s report.” She was buying time. Praying for a miracle.
Harrison let out a sharp huff of disbelief. He clearly didn’t believe a single word. He pulled out his phone, thumb moving fast across the screen. He gave her one last look, his contempt a physical weight pressing down on her. “Stay out of my sight. If I see you again, I can’t guarantee what I’ll do.”
With that final dismissal, he put his arm around Aria and walked out the door. Into the waiting Bentley. He didn’t look back.
The lie had failed. The strength ran out of Eleanor’s legs and they gave way. She sank to the cold marble floor, a silent scream trapped in her chest.
Inside the Bentley, the air sat thick with unspoken tension. Harrison stared at his phone, his expression grim as he worked through a late-night business email.
Aria watched him, her brow furrowed in that carefully practiced way. “Harry, don’t let her get to you,” she said softly. “She’s just desperate. People do crazy things when they’re desperate.”
He didn’t answer. His focus stayed locked on the screen.
She tried a different angle, her tone light, almost offhand. “You know, it’s strange. From a certain angle, she almost looks a little like… Genevieve.”
The name dropped into the air like a stone into still water. Harrison’s fingers froze over his phone. The temperature inside the car seemed to drop several degrees.
He lifted his head. The look he gave her was sharp enough to cut. “Don’t say her name.”
Aria flinched as if she’d been slapped. “I’m sorry, Harry. I just meant—”
“I had my lawyers pull the case file from three years ago,” he cut in, his voice flat and empty.
Aria’s heart slammed against her ribs. The color bled from her face, leaving her pale and waxy under the passing city lights. “Why?” She fought to keep her voice from shaking. “I thought that case was closed.”
Harrison’s gaze drifted to the window, watching the blur of nighttime Manhattan slide past. “There were… discrepancies in the official report.”
He didn’t say anything more. But that one word—discrepancies—made Aria’s breath catch in her throat. Her hand tightened on the strap of her designer bag until her knuckles went white.
“Discrepancies about what?” Her voice was a strained whisper. “About… Leo Hayes?”
Harrison didn’t answer. He closed his eyes, a clear signal that the conversation was over.
His silence was worse than any accusation. Aria didn’t dare push him further. She sat rigid in her seat, panic clawing up her spine. What did he know? What had he found?
The rest of the ride passed in a dead, suffocating stillness. Aria’s carefully built world was starting to crack. She had a sickening feeling that the secrets she had helped bury three years ago were about to be dug up and dragged into the light.
And back at the Sterling estate, Eleanor lay crumpled on the floor in despair, with no idea that the foundation of her husband’s hatred—the very event that had ruined her family—was beginning to crumble.
