The CEO's Midnight Remedy novel Chapter 111

Aria’s POV

After yesterday’s confrontation with my father that ended with his heart attack, and the emotional whiplash with Devon, I felt utterly drained. My body ached, and my mind refused to quiet.

I took a quick shower, hoping the hot water would wash away the emotional residue of the past twenty- four hours. The hospital had called last night to inform me that my father was stable, but I couldn’t bring myself to return. Not after everything that had happened.

After dressing in a cream silk blouse and high–waisted jeans, I grabbed my laptop bag and headed for the door. Work would be my sanctuary today–the one place where I still had some semblance of control.

When I pulled open my apartment door, I nearly tripped over a crumpled form slumped against the wall. Ethan, in all his disheveled glory, was passed out in my hallway. His once–pristine suit was wrinkled, his hair a mess, and the smell of expensive scotch wafted from him like cologne.

“Great,” I muttered, stepping over his legs. “I moved to Brooklyn specifically to avoid this kind of drama,

and yet here you are.”

His eyes fluttered open at the sound of my voice, bloodshot and disoriented. “Aria,” he slurred, struggling to focus. “Wait! Don’t go!”

I ignored him, fishing my keys from my bag to lock the door behind me. The last thing I needed was Ethan

invading my private space.

“Aria, please,” he staggered to his feet, swaying slightly. We need to talk.”

“We have nothing to talk about,” I replied coldly, heading toward the elevator. “Go home, Ethan. Sleep it

off.”

He lurched forward, grabbing my wrist as I reached the elevator. “I can’t be without you,” he insisted, his

grip tightening. “Don’t you remember how much you loved me at Princeton? How perfect we were

together?”

I yanked my arm free, feeling disgust rise in my throat. That memory feels like a stain I can’t wash out.

Every time I think about it, I feel nothing but shame.”

The elevator doors opened, and I stepped inside, jabbing the lobby button repeatedly. Ethan’s face

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Chapter 111

contorted with hurt that quickly morphed into anger.

As the doors began to close, Ethan’s arm shot out, stopping them. He forced his way into the small space, causing me to back against the wall. The elevator began its descent, and with each floor, the tension

thickened.

“You’ve become cruel, Aria,” he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “This isn’t you.”

“You have no idea who I am anymore,” I countered. “And you never will.”

Something dark flashed in his eyes. Without warning, he slammed his palm against the wall beside my head, causing me to flinch. The elevator jerked to a halt as he hit the emergency stop button.

“Ethan, what are you doing?” Alarm bells rang in my head as he leaned closer, the stench of alcohol on his

breath making me recoil.

“I think we need to remember what we had,” he murmured, trying to kiss me.

I reacted instinctively, driving my knee up into his stomach. He doubled over, gasping in pain, and I

reached for the control panel to restart the elevator.

“You bitch,” he wheezed, his face contorting with rage. Don’t give me attitude. You think you’re too good

for me now? After I was going to marry you despite your family’s scandals?”

He lunged at me again, grabbing the collar of my silk blouse. The sound of fabric tearing filled the small

space. “Maybe I should see what Devon Kane found so interesting,” he snarled, his eyes wild with jealousy

and alcohol–fueled rage.

Terror shot through me, but before I could scream, the elevator suddenly lurched downward and the doors

slid open. A familiar figure stood in the lobby, his imposing presence filling the doorway.

Devon reached in, grasped Ethan’s shoulder, and with one fluid motion, pulled him out and slammed him against the marble floor of the lobby. Ethan landed with a pained grunt, his eyes wide with shock.

“Touch her again,” Devon said, his voice deadly quiet as he stood over Ethan, “and Blake Fashion won’t just be a social media laughingstock–it’ll cease to exist in New York’s fashion scene altogether.”

Devon turned to me, his expression softening slightly as he took in my disheveled appearance and torn blouse. Without a word, he shrugged off his suit jacket and draped it around my shoulders, covering the

damage.