Chapter 7
ARIA
The company's hundred-year anniversary celebration came around fast. We hosted it at a prestigious hotel that glittered with Manhattan's elite. I stood beside Blake in my water-blue gown, playing the dutiful wife nobody knew existed.
"Who's this lovely lady?" A banker approached, eyeing me with interest.
"My executive assistant." Blake's tone stayed flat.
The banker's interest died instantly. Three years married, and I'm still just the help.
"Blake, Mother's waiting upstairs." Victoria swept over in sequined Versace. "Morgan family members belong with family."
Blake nodded. "Stay here. Handle the secondary guests."
"Of course, Mr. Morgan." The words tasted like ash.
Victoria smirked. "Some people need to remember their place."
They left me alone. Again.
Within minutes, I became the crowd's personal servant.
"Girl, my champagne's warm!"
"Find my wife's coat!"
"These canapés are pathetic—fix it!"
I ran myself ragged while nausea from the pregnancy hit in waves. Gripping a marble column, I fought to stay upright.
This isn't how I imagined carrying Blake's child.
I escaped to the terrace until a familiar voice destroyed my peace.
"Aria Taylor, does Blake know you're slacking?"
I spun around. Matthew Redwood stood there in his custom gray suit, his eyes glinting with malice.
"Mr. Redwood." I straightened.
"Look at you, wearing your elite mask." He stepped closer. "Changed yourself for Blake, and he still treats you like cheap help."
"I'm not discussing this with you."
"Why not? Afraid to face the truth?" Matthew's smile turned cruel. "You know what's funny? You used to have spine. Now you're just another desperate woman clinging to a man who despises her."
I remembered when we were teenagers. He'd stutter around me, all nervous energy and hidden glances. Now he wielded words like scalpels.
"I was childish back then. Not anymore."
"Really? Because from where I'm standing—"
Commotion from the ballroom cut him off. The crowd parted, and Emma Grant floated through in a water-blue gown identical to mine. But the dress wasn't what stopped conversations.
The Morgan family blue diamond spark onled her wrist, drawing the eye with every gleam.
That ring meant everything. It marked the true Mrs. Morgan.
Blake gave it to her. While still married to me.
My face burned. He's shameless. Completely shameless.
The whispers started immediately.
"Blake's making it official with Emma!"
"Finally! The Grants and Morgans—perfect match."
"Only Emma Grant deserves to be Mrs. Morgan."
They were right. I knew it. But knowing didn't stop the knife twisting in my chest.
Victoria bounded down from the VIP lounge, making a beeline for Emma. "Look everyone! Emma's wearing our family heirloom!"
She turned to me and whispered. "Aria, my brother gave Emma our family's blue diamond. You're just the temporary wife about to be dismissed. No hard feelings, right?"
I kept my face blank. "Since Miss Morgan already calls me temporary, why ask my opinion?"
"Aren't you angry? You're still married to him!"
"Should I contact a lawyer about Mr. Morgan's public adultery? File for breach of contract?" I met her eyes steadily.
"You wouldn't dare!" Victoria's face flushed.
Emma glided over, taking my hand in hers. Cold fingers, colder smile. "We all know you're too smart and rational for that, Aria."
The threat hung there. Make trouble, and everyone learns you're the murderer's daughter.
Victoria caught on quick. "Right. You were acting pretty tough there."
"Go get Emma and me some tiramisu." Victoria commanded. "After all, you're a servant's daughter. It's in your blood."
Emma touched my arm gently. "Aria, would you mind? I'm rather hungry."
I looked between them. These two spoiled princesses who'd never worked a day in their lives.
"Miss Morgan, Miss Grant, being a housekeeper's daughter doesn't make me your servant. Did you pay for my services?"
"You self-righteous little—how dare you refuse me!" Victoria raised her hand.
"What's going on here?"
Blake's voice cut through the tension. Victoria's hand dropped instantly.
"Blake! Aria just insulted Emma and me!" Victoria's voice pitched high with fake distress.
Emma tucked the blue diamond behind her back. "It's nothing. I don't really need dessert."
Playing the saint. Classic Emma.
Blake's ice-blue eyes fixed on me. "It's just fetching dessert, Assistant Taylor. Are you too precious for that?"
He still thought commanding people was normal. That ordering me around wasn't degrading. God, this man.
Memories flooded back. Emma's manipulation as children. My mother slapping me bloody for not carrying Emma's backpack, threatening to destroy my dreams if I didn't obey.
But I'm not that scared little girl anymore.
"I won't get the dessert." I met Blake's gaze directly.
"Excuse me?"
"If Mr. Morgan is dissatisfied, feel free to terminate our employment."
Blake's face darkened. "You're threatening to quit over dessert?"
"You can see it that way."
Matthew jumped in eagerly. "Fire this ungrateful woman, Blake!"
Victoria nodded. "Aria's insubordinate. Remove her from Morgan Enterprise immediately."
"Shut up." Blake's voice turned lethal. "Since when do you make Morgan Enterprise decisions?"
He grabbed my wrist, yanking me against him. To Matthew: "My hiring and firing decisions aren't your concern."
His grip tightened until I thought my bones would snap. This wasn't affection. This was control. He hated my defiance more than he cared about Emma's dessert.
"Mr. Morgan, you're hurting me!"
He dragged me to a corner alcove, fury radiating from every line of his body.
"Did you forget my warning? No scenes at the centennial celebration. Nothing to damage Morgan Enterprise's image."
"Who really caused the scene?" I shot back. "Me, or you and Emma flaunting that ring?"
"Emma wants very little. Just cooperate with her. She's adjusting after Europe."
Another punch to my already bleeding heart. Even now, he protected her.
"Emma wants very little because all she's ever wanted is Blake Morgan." I stared straight at him. "Let's end this contract early. I'll forfeit the settlement. Just let me go."
"Don't presume to know Emma's mind." His voice turned arctic. "Divorce would tank our stock price and damage the family reputation."
"I'm not your nanny or servant. We had a contract—fair exchange. Services rendered."
"Three years ago, you drugged me—"
"I didn't drug you! When will you believe me?" My control snapped. "If I could prove my innocence, that would make you the criminal for forcing this marriage, wouldn't it?"
"Enough games. Stay away from Emma. I won't take your side."
"Don't worry, Mr. Morgan. Soon you won't see me at all."
One way or another, I'd leave this nightmare behind.
In the ladies' room, I gripped the marble counter. My reflection looked pale, defeated. A chill ran through me, almost like someone cursing my name.
Matthew had offered champagne earlier. I'd refused because of the baby. Now I wished I'd taken it. Maybe drunk would hurt less than this.
I fixed my makeup and headed back through the service corridor. These back hallways stayed empty during events—perfect for avoiding the party.
An unsettling silence filled the hallway, broken only by my footsteps echoing hollowly through the space. Out of nowhere, I felt a chill run down my spine as the hair on the back of my neck bristled.
Footsteps echoed behind me. Before I could turn, a hand covered my eyes. Another clamped over my mouth.
I screamed against the palm, thrashing wildly, but the corridor stayed empty. No one heard. No one came.
