Chapter 28
Liam’s POV
I slammed the car door shut, feeling the rush of adrenaline still pumping through my veins. It was done. Mason Thornhill wouldn’t be blackmailing me—or anyone else—anytime soon.
The look on his face when I confronted him was something I’d remember for a long time. Shock, panic, and then a barely masked rage that told me I’d finally hit him where it hurt.
The evidence Aria had found was exactly what I needed. Mason’s shady business deals, his involvement in that unsolved crime—it was all leverage I could use to keep him off my back.
As I drove back to the office, the triumph of the confrontation still lingered, but my mind kept drifting back to Aria. She’d been the one to unearth the crucial details, putting in the kind of work that made me realize just how much I still depended on her, even now.
She was my equal in ways I hadn’t fully appreciated when we were together. I wanted to share this victory with her—not just because she’d helped, but because, somehow, it felt right.
The office was winding down for the day, the usual buzz replaced by a quieter hum as people packed up and trickled out. I spotted Aria in the break room, staring at her phone with a furrowed brow, lost in whatever thoughts had captured her attention.
She didn’t notice me at first, which gave me a second to just look at her, her expression softening slightly when she finally looked up and saw me.
“Hey,” I said, leaning against the doorframe. “Got some good news.”
Aria looked up, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah? What’s up?”
I couldn’t help but grin. “I confronted Mason. Laid it all out. Told him exactly what would happen if he tried to pull that blackmail crap again. He’s done, Aria. We’ve got him cornered.”
She blinked, processing the information, and for a split second, I saw the relief wash over her face. Then, just as quickly, she masked it, nodding in approval.
“That’s great, Liam. Hopefully, this will be the end of it.”
There was something about the way she said it—hopeful but distant.
I took a breath, deciding to take a chance. “You know, I was thinking… we should celebrate. How about dinner? My treat.”
Aria hesitated, her eyes narrowing slightly, like she was weighing the pros and cons of being in the same room as me for more than five minutes.
“Dinner?” she repeated, skeptical. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
I shrugged, trying to keep it light. “Come on. It’s just dinner. No strings, no expectations. Just a thank-you for your help.”
She crossed her arms, and for a moment, I thought she’d turn me down flat. But then she sighed, relenting. “Fine. But just dinner. And I’m picking the place.”
I nodded, hiding my surprise. “Deal.”
We ended up at a small Italian restaurant on the outskirts of town.. Aria had always liked these little out-of-the-way spots, preferring quiet corners over the trendy places.
"We’ll start with the pasta and a bottle of red," I said, handing the menu back to the waiter. I glanced at Aria, searching her expression for any hint of how she was feeling tonight. "You still prefer red, right?"
She nodded, a slight smile touching her lips as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Yeah, you remembered."
I cleared my throat, leaning back in my chair, trying to ignore the way my chest tightened. "So, how’s Joe? He must be growing up fast."
"He is," she said, her face softening as she talked about him. "He just started soccer, actually. I never thought I’d be a soccer mom, but here we are."
I couldn’t help but laugh. The thought of Aria on the sidelines, cheering Joe on, was a strange blend of endearing and surreal. "Bet he’s already the best player on the team."
She rolled her eyes, laughing lightly. "He’s… enthusiastic. But yeah, he loves it. It’s good for him to have something that’s his, you know?"
I nodded, my gaze lingering on her. There was something comforting about seeing her talk about Joe, her whole face lighting up. "I’m glad he’s happy. He’s lucky to have you."
Aria set her glass down, running her finger along the rim as she studied me. "You seem different lately," she said, her voice soft. "In a good way, I mean."
"It’s nice," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "Being here with you. I’ve missed it." She looked at me, her eyes full of something I couldn’t quite read.
"Yeah," she said quietly, almost like she was admitting it to herself. "Me too."
“You know,” I said, swirling my wine glass, “I’ve been thinking about Mason and his motive. Why would he risk everything to come after me? What was the point?”
Aria tilted her head, mulling over the question. “People like Mason… they thrive on control. Maybe it wasn’t just about the money. Maybe he wanted to remind you that he could still reach you, that he could still hurt you.”
I nodded, considering her words. She was probably right. Mason’s game wasn’t just about financial gain; it was about power, about proving that he could manipulate people like pieces on a chessboard. But Mason had underestimated us—underestimated Aria, in particular.
I smiled at the thought, feeling a warmth spread through me that had nothing to do with the wine. “Remind me never to get on your bad side. You really helped me out back there.”
Aria glanced at me, her expression unreadable. “I didn’t do it for you, Liam. I did it because Mason’s the kind of person who doesn’t care who he hurts, and I’m not about to let him mess with Joe’s life.”
Her words stung, but they were fair. I couldn’t blame her for putting Joe first. I raised my glass in a mock toast. “To not letting the bastards win, then.”
She laughed—a real, genuine laugh that caught me off guard. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d heard that sound.
Had I ever? Our marriage had been full of moments of tension, miscommunication, and lost opportunities. But hearing her laugh now, I realized just how much I’d missed it, missed her.
As the evening wore on, the conversation shifted to lighter topics. We shared stories about Joe, about work, even about Jackson’s latest antics at the track.
It felt almost… normal. For the first time in a long time, it felt like we were on the same team again, even if only for tonight.
When the check came, I noticed something—Aria hadn’t mentioned the divorce papers once.
It had been the constant undertone of every conversation we’d had for months, the silent threat hanging over us. But tonight, it was just us.
We left the restaurant, standing awkwardly by her car. I wanted to say something—anything—that would keep the moment going, but the words wouldn’t come.
Instead, Aria gave me a small smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach her eyes but still felt like progress. “Thanks for dinner. It was…nice .”
“Anytime,” I replied, feeling the familiar ache of wanting more, of knowing we were still miles apart despite the few inches between us.
When I got home, the high of the evening still lingered, a faint buzz that was quickly replaced by confusion as I saw Sophia sitting on my porch.
She was hunched over, scrolling through her phone, her expression sour. I hadn’t expected her—hadn’t seen her in days, actually, since she’d been traveling for work.
“Sophia?” I called out, surprised. “What are you doing here?”
She looked up, her expression immediately shifting from annoyance to something sharper. “Waiting for you. I thought we were supposed to talk about the investor meeting next week, but clearly you had other plans.”
Her eyes flicked to the clock on her phone, then back to me, lingering on the creased shirt and the faint hint of wine still clinging to my clothes. I could almost see the question forming, her mind piecing together the signs, filling in the blanks with her own assumptions.
“Long day?” she asked, her voice edged with something I couldn’t quite place—curiosity, maybe. Or something more pointed.
“Yeah,” I said. “Had some things to take care of.”
“You were out late..” She paused, and I could feel her refusing to believe it. “With Aria?”
I didn’t react, but it was obvious she wasn’t thrilled. Jealousy flickered in her eyes—something I’d seen before but never this blatantly.
“What’s it to you?” I asked, my voice lighter than I felt. It was easier to play off her mood than dive into whatever mess she was hinting at.
Sophia crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe.
“Nothing, really,” she said, her tone airy but with an undercurrent of bitterness. “Just... I’ve heard things, you know. I thought you were dealing with someone threatening you.”
Her words were a needle prick—tiny, but enough to draw blood. This was obviously an unexpected response, enough to get my attention.
I hadn’t told her about the blackmail; I hadn’t told anyone outside of my closest circle.
That Sophia knew anything at all was alarming, but the way she said it felt less like a threat and more like a careless slip.
“How would you know about that?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady, even as suspicion started to coil inside me.
Sophia’s expression shifted, seemed to be trying to hide something.
“I just overheard things around the office. People talk. You should be more careful—especially with who you’re seen with.”
The comment hung in the air, dripping with jealousy. But beneath it, something didn’t sit right.
If she’d overheard something, how much did she really know? And why was she bringing it up now? My mind was already working through the possibilities.
Sophia might have meant to hurt me in her own petty way, but instead, she’d given me a reason to dig deeper.
“Thanks for the advice,” I said, watching her closely. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
As she turned to leave, I was already making a mental note to find out how much Sophia really knew—and whether her jealousy was just the tip of a much bigger problem.
She stood up, brushing past me with a forced smile.
As she walked away, my mind raced. How much did she know, and why hadn’t she said anything before?
And most importantly—who was feeding her information about Mason’s blackmail?
I watched her disappear into the night, the weight of the evening settling over me like a heavy cloak.
