The CEO's Midnight Remedy novel Chapter 101

Chapter 101

Aria’s POV

The Plaza Hotel gleamed like a golden jewel against the Manhattan skyline as our car pulled up to the entrance. A long crimson carpet stretched from the street to the grand doors, lined with photographers from Vogue, The New York Times, and every major fashion publication. Flashbulbs popped incessantly, capturing the arrival of New York’s elite for what the society pages had dubbed “the merger of the season“-my wedding to Ethan Blake.

I took a deep breath, smoothing the silk of my Pierre Montagne wedding gown. The irony wasn’t lost on me. Here I was, on what should have been the happiest day of my life, orchestrating my own revenge amid tulle and tradition.

Through the tinted windows, I could see the Blake family already positioned at the entrance. Ethan stood tall in his custom–designed tuxedo, flanked by his parents Marianne and George. His smile was practiced, photogenic–the perfect facade of the devoted groom.

“Ready, Miss Harper?” The driver’s voice pulled me from my thoughts.

“As I’ll ever be,” I replied.

The door opened, and I stepped into the frenzy. Camera flashes intensified, voices calling my name from all directions. I smiled, channeling every ounce of grace my mother had taught me, despite the bandage carefully concealed beneath my hairline.

“Aria!” Ethan moved toward me, arms outstretched. His lips brushed my cheek, but his eyes drifted past my shoulder, seeking someone else in the crowd. I followed his gaze to Scarlett, who stood nearby in a white dress.

“Ethan, darling,” Scarlett called, her voice dripping with sweetness. “The photographer wants a photo with the happy couple!”

Marianne stepped between them smoothly. “Scarlett, dear, you should address him as your brother–in–law.” Her smile remained fixed, but her eyes flashed a warning.

I caught every glance, every subtle gesture between them. Inside, I laughed coldly. Today would be their last performance.

A sudden roar from above drew everyone’s attention. A sleek black helicopter with the Kane Technology logo emblazoned on its side descended toward the hotel’s rooftop helipad. The photographers immediately redirected their cameras, Instagram feeds instantly updating with speculation about the Silicon Valley titan’s unexpected arrival.

‘You invited Kane?” Ethan hissed, his smile straining at the edges.

I feigned surprise. “This is your family’s event. I assumed he was on your guest list–aren’t the Blakes courting his investment?”

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Chapter 101

Before Ethan could respond, Marianne glided forward, her smile tightening noticeably. “Mr. Kane’s presence is… unexpected,” she said, the strain in her voice evident only to those who knew her well. With a quick recovery befitting her social standing, she added more loudly, “But of course, we must welcome such an important potential investor to the wedding.” The tension around her eyes betrayed her true feelings.

Devon Kane emerged from the hotel’s private entrance moments later. His tall figure commanded attention in a perfectly tailored charcoal Brioni suit. He moved through the crowd with deliberate steps, ignoring questions from the press. When his eyes found mine across the crowd, my stomach tightened. His gaze was direct, unblinking. The corner of his mouth lifted slightly, almost imperceptibly, and his eyes darkened as they lingered on the nearly–healed cut on my forehead.

“Mr. Blake.” Devon extended his hand to Ethan, who took it with barely concealed animosity. Devon’s fingers tightened, and I noticed Ethan’s slight wince. “Congratulations on your wedding day. I’ve always admired your family’s ability to

secure… valuable assets. His eyes slid to me as he spoke, the pause in his sentence deliberate and loaded with meaning.

The pre–ceremony champagne reception was a blur of air kisses and hollow congratulations. I excused myself after the

third toast, claiming I needed to adjust my veil. In the hallway, I texted Devon a room number and waited, my heart

pounding against my ribs.

Five minutes later, I slipped into the reserved VIP lounge. Devon stood by the window, his back to the door. The room was silent except for our breathing. Without turning, he spoke, his voice low and controlled.

“So this is why you went through with the wedding plans. It was never about reconciliation–it was about revenge.”

I locked the door with a soft click. The sound seemed to fill the room. I approached him, each step deliberate, the material of my wedding dress rustling softly. My phone felt heavy in my hand as I pulled it out.

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