Chapter 38

Liam’s POV

The soft hum of the office was all but drowned out by the growing frustration in my head. I tapped my fingers impatiently on the desk, waiting for my assistant to return with any new information.

It had been weeks since I first noticed the divorce papers were missing, and no one seemed to know anything.

But with each passing day, my gut told me one thing: Aria.

The thought nagged at me, though I tried to convince myself it was paranoia. Aria wasn’t petty like that—or at least, she never used to be.

But then again, people change. And we weren’t the same people we were six years ago.

My assistant knocked softly before stepping into my office. “Liam, I’ve asked around again like you requested. No one’s seen or moved the papers. I’m sorry.”

I sighed, leaning back in my chair. “Thank you, that’ll be all.”

She nodded and left, closing the door quietly behind her. I stared at the ceiling, frustration boiling beneath the surface.

I couldn’t prove Aria had anything to do with it, but it was hard to believe it was a coincidence. Those papers didn’t just walk off on their own.

Rubbing my temples, I decided I needed to clear my head. Sitting around obsessing over missing documents wasn’t going to get me anywhere.

Without thinking too much about it, I grabbed my keys and headed for the track. A late-night session might be exactly what I needed.

---

The track was quiet when I arrived, its vast emptiness almost peaceful under the dim lights. I stepped out of the car and made my way toward the garage.

I wasn’t sure what I was looking for—some solace, maybe, or just a distraction from the gnawing thoughts in my head.

Jackson’s car sat there, prepped for tomorrow’s training, and the sight of it brought a strange sense of calm.

I hadn’t been there long when I heard footsteps behind me. I turned, half-expecting it to be one of the crew, but to my surprise, it was Aria. She walked toward me, her expression unreadable.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” I said, trying to sound casual.

She shrugged. “I could say the same about you. Thought you’d be home by now.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” I replied, turning my attention back to the car. “Needed to clear my head.”

She stood next to me, her gaze following mine. For a moment, the air between us felt oddly... familiar.

“Yeah, I get that. It helps to be out here.” She said finally, her words holding more meaning than I could decipher in that moment.

Like the old days when we’d spend hours talking shop, strategizing and planning. But now, the tension was palpable, lurking beneath the surface of every word, every glance.

“How’s Jackson’s training going?” Aria asked after a pause.

“Good. He’s improving every day.” I hesitated, glancing at her. “You’ve been doing a solid job with him.”

“Thanks.” She gave a small smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “He’s a good driver. Just needs some fine-tuning.”

I nodded, and for a few seconds, the conversation felt almost normal. Almost like we weren’t tangled in the mess of our past.

Then I saw my opening. “Speaking of fine-tuning... I’ve been trying to track down some missing documents.” I kept my tone light, casual, as if I wasn’t probing for answers.

Aria stiffened ever so slightly, and I knew she’d caught the underlying meaning. But she didn’t miss a beat.

“Oh? What kind of documents?” she asked, her voice steady as she looked straight ahead at the car.

“The divorce papers,” I said, watching her carefully. “They’ve been missing for a while now. No one seems to know where they’ve gone.”

She was quiet for a moment, too quiet. I could feel her calculating her next move.

Finally, she spoke, her voice as calm as ever. “That’s strange. Have you checked with your lawyer? Sometimes they misfile things.”

I raised an eyebrow. “I did. Nothing there either.”

Aria met my gaze, her expression neutral. “Well, I hope you find them soon.”

It was a masterful dodge. She didn’t deny anything, but she also didn’t give me any reason to suspect her further. Still, my gut twisted.

There was something she wasn’t saying. I could feel it.

Before I could press further, she shifted the conversation. “Liam,” she began, her tone softer, more hesitant, “I’ve been meaning to apologize... for what I said the other day. About your character.”

I blinked, caught off guard. “What brought this on?”

She sighed, crossing her arms as if she were protecting herself from the vulnerability she was about to reveal.

“I don’t know. I guess seeing you now, the way you’ve been handling things... it just reminded me of how I felt back when I left. I was angry, hurt, and I took a lot of it out on you, whether you deserved it or not.”

I frowned, not sure how to respond. Aria rarely apologized, especially about something like this.

“You were justified,” I said carefully. “I wasn’t exactly the easiest person to be around back then.”

She let out a small laugh, though it sounded more bitter than amused.

“That’s one way to put it. But you’ve changed. I can see that. And I guess I just... wanted you to know that I’ve noticed.”

Her words hung in the air, and for a brief moment, I felt like we were teetering on the edge of something. Something fragile and delicate, yet too complicated to fully grasp.

But before I could figure out what to say, Aria glanced at her watch. “I should probably get going.”

Without thinking, I reached out, catching her by the arm. “Wait.”

She looked back at me, her eyes wide with surprise.

“Do you ever... do you ever regret how things ended between us?” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them, hanging there between us, heavy and raw.

Aria hesitated, her expression shifting from surprise to something else—something I couldn’t quite read.

She opened her mouth as if to say something, but then stopped. A beat passed, then two. The silence stretched.

“I—” she started, then quickly shook her head. “I don’t know, Liam.” Her words were hesitant.

It wasn’t the answer I’d been hoping for, but it wasn’t a rejection either. I held her gaze for a moment longer, trying to find something, anything in her eyes that would give me clarity.

But all I found was uncertainty, the same uncertainty that had plagued us for years.

Finally, she pulled her arm free from my grip and stepped back. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, her voice quieter now, almost a whisper.

And with that, she turned and walked away, leaving me standing there in the quiet of the track, with the weight of her unspoken words pressing down on me.

As I watched her leave, I couldn’t help but wonder if this was the beginning of another chapter for us—or the final nail in the coffin of whatever we’d once had.

But one thing was clear: we weren’t done yet. Not by a long shot.