CHAPTER 3
I thought you did choose me
Aria reclined in the armchair near the window, the soft vibration of the law firm receding. A soft smile on her lips as she drank in the pale dawn light and its peacefulness. That was when the door swung open and her husband's secretary came in.
Ann with her chins high into the room, her reluctant but quick walk. Slouching forward slightly to put a file on the table, the necklace was revealed, catching the light—smooth, familiar, unmistakable.
Aria's breath was suspended. Her loose hand on the armrest tightened into her fist.Her eyes remained on the chain, unblinking, as the corner of her mouth twitched reflexively. A glint of some sharp thing flashed in the back of her cold eyes, and she clenched her teeth.
"Beautiful." Bead. "Necklace," she said, smiling widely but with the razor edge. "New?"
Ann stood up, brushing the dirt off
her pencil skirt. She tripped. "Oh, this? Yes. A gift. from someone special."
Aria didn't bat an eyelid. "Is that so?" She leaned back, an eyebrow raised lazily. "Interesting. I could've sworn I saw it somewhere recently."
"Yes, it was the recent jewelry auctioned two days ago! Does it look beautiful?"
Ann twirled her button, letting the necklace drop a little lower. Her lips curved into a pleased wide smile
"I never imagined you'd catch on so quickly?" she exclaimed, feigning surprise. "I didn't expect you to notice something so. sophisticated?"
A hair closer, her gaze was narrowed in on Aria, "When I saw it, I knew I had to own it. It's Something about me, the design—it didn't exactly yell you, did it?"
Her eyes swept Aria's face, trying so hard to decipher her expressions.
"You don't worry, Classic looks like these can… be a bit intimidating. Need the right kind of woman to be able to carry it off. Ain't for houseWives."
She had strode off walking before Aria could say anything, with the very hint of a smirk on her face.
"It was fun, Ann," Aria said, her voice low and testy, but with a low malice that stayed Ann's step.
Ann stopped in her tracks, looking back.
Aria stood up from the armchair, her movements calculated and deliberate and her eyes fixed on Ann's with unnerving calm. "You are correct. It would take a specific type of woman to get away with something like that." She smiled—slow, deliberate. "The type of woman who doesn't object to sloppy seconds."
Ann blinked.
Aria stepped in, uncomfortably close to stand in the space she occupied alone. "enjoy it while it lasts. That necklace could very easily find its way back to its owner at any given moment."
Ann's smile faded. She was going to say a word, but she was unable to speak any. Aria glowed with a smile and sat down like a queen claiming her spot again on her throne.
Ann delayed by a fraction of a second, her hold on the file in her hand growing tense. She attempted a laugh, but it came off as strained. She was attempting to paper over the discomfort she felt.
"Well," she spun to him completely now, voice a fraction too high, "I suppose some women cling to what they once had. Nostalgia's an unpleasant habit, isn't it?"
Aria spoke not a word—there was no need she should. She merely sipped her tea, staring, the air between them so heavy, that it could have been sliced.
Ann's eyes drifted back to the necklace once more, now seeming heavier than it had for the entire day, her hand automatically running up to touch it, as if needing to reassure herself that it was still present—still hers.
"Anyway," she continued, catching up with a flick of her head, "I didn't think your husband was thinking of you when he bought you this necklace!"
That was going too far. Aria set the cup on the tray with care—in the middle, on purpose. "Be careful, Ann," she said softly. "It is as simple to confuse a moment that is taken as it is to put on diamonds that you did not win."
Ann's mouth was ajar, jaw clenched, but nothing came out. Nothing shouted.
And Aria? She simply turned her back, as if Ann were gone already.
"You believe you're above me, don't you?" she spat, the mask of nice assistant crumbling. "Sitting there in your own throne, drinking tea like you're above the rest of us. News flash, Aria—he doesn't even look at you the way he does at me."
"That's more about him than it is about me." Aria snapped back at her immediately.
Ann's retort was cut short before she could say a thing.
The door opened.
Daniel came in, file held tightly in his hand, eyebrows slightly furrowed in surprise at the tension that greeted him the minute he stepped in. He looked at Aria's tense stance, then at Ann—flushed face, irregular breathing.
"What's going on?" he asked, automatically stepping in to stand next to Ann.
Ann stood before him, voice freezing up, playing the innocent. "Nothing, I just— I wore out my welcome, I guess. Aria was just. making a point."
Aria laughed, low and vicious. "Tell him what point, Ann. Go on. Don't spare anything now."
Daniel's eyes skittered back and forth between them, his jaw hard and set. "Aria, whatever this is—can we not do this in public?"
"Oh, how convenient," Aria snapped back, voice loud but icy. "You show up just on time to save her, like clockwork."
"Not everything about you, if you would just stop rushing and realize that instead of looking for someone to blame." He jerked away from her.
Ann caught his arm with a staying hand, her eyes wide and hurt. "Daniel, it's okay. I shouldn't have said anything. She's upset."
Scorched with searing pain down her throat like a cut from a sharp knife through it, Aria was gasping, her breathing was betraying her but she did not let go of the scream to soothe her throat.
"Of course, she's angry," she hissed. "She's got on my necklace. In front of my husband. And now behaves like the offended one?" She accused Daniel then—finally spoke to him. "Do you defend her like that when you're alone with her?"
Daniel remained silent.
And that silence—fat and obnoxious—spoke louder than words.
Aria looked at him, unreadable. Then nodded once. Not in assent—but in understanding. A bitter kind of understanding.
she had whispered, letting each word drop slowly and tentatively as she protected her hurt. "I prayed you'd pick me. I figured if I waited, if I just stayed quiet and still, that you'd recall the one who'd got your back when no one else would."
Her tone wasn't shaking—it was quick, hard, tempered out of brokenness.
But now I can see you, though," she went on. "You lost loving me—you lost respect for me. And that. that is worse."
Daniel shifted restlessly, a look of guilt crossing his face, but Aria didn't give him a chance to say a word.
She turned on Ann, her voice icy. "And you—live in fantasy. He may be guarding you at the moment, but soon you will notice the same man who betrayed his wife already betrayed you—it's just swaddled in charm."
Ann attempted to speak but had nothing to say.
Aria cast one last glance—two people living in their own deceptions—then shrugged on her coat, straightened her shoulders, and exited through the door.
She opened it when she pulled up without glancing over her shoulder.
"Next time, Ann. hold on to the necklace. I don't wear anything that has a whiff of desperation."
And so she left, heels softly clicking in unspoken confidence—leaving a silence that Daniel and Ann neither would try to shatter.