The CEO's Midnight Remedy novel Chapter 27

**Dust Writes New Stories by Rei Holt Wilder**

**Chapter 27**

**Aria’s POV**

As the man walked away, a chilling solitude enveloped me at the small table. I held the blank business card tightly in my hand, the single phone number etched into my palm like a brand. A tightness gripped my throat as I grappled with the implications of his words regarding my mother’s death and the unsettling possibility of Victoria’s involvement.

With shaking hands, I reached into my purse and retrieved a cigarette—one of Sophia’s that I had stashed away from the hospital parking garage. The lighter quivered slightly as I flicked it open and lit the end, inhaling deeply. The smoke filled my lungs, causing me to cough slightly, but it offered a fleeting distraction from the storm of thoughts swirling chaotically in my mind.

The image he had shown me refused to fade: my father and Victoria, their expressions intimate, their bodies relaxed in each other’s presence, captured in a moment three years before my mother fell ill. It felt like a betrayal, a wound that refused to heal.

Suddenly, my phone rang, jolting me from my reverie. An unknown number flashed on the screen. For a heartbeat, I believed it might be the same mysterious man calling back, but when I answered, a different voice cut through the air.

“Pinnacle Hotel. Our usual suite. One hour.” The clipped, authoritative tone belonged to Devon Kane, leaving no room for negotiation.

“Devon, I need to—”

Before I could finish, the line went dead. I stared at my phone in disbelief, the silence echoing in my ears. After a moment of hesitation, I extinguished the cigarette in the ashtray and gathered my belongings. Whatever Devon wanted would be a welcome diversion from the unsettling revelations about my mother’s past.

The Pinnacle Hotel loomed ahead, a glittering spear piercing the Manhattan skyline, its sharp lines and reflective glass glinting in the afternoon sun. I stepped through the revolving doors, the sound of my heels clicking against the polished marble floor echoing in the expansive lobby. A young receptionist with flawless makeup and an even more radiant smile looked up as I approached.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Harper,” she greeted warmly, recognition lighting up her face. “Mr. Kane mentioned you would be joining him. The private elevator is ready for you.”

I nodded, masking my surprise at being expected. A uniformed staff member escorted me to a discreet elevator tucked away at the back of the lobby, using a special key card to grant access. The doors opened soundlessly, and I stepped inside, watching the numbers tick upward as the elevator ascended to the exclusive upper floors where the most lavish suites awaited.

Upon entering the suite, a wave of familiarity washed over me. I had only been here once before, yet it felt as if the space had molded itself to my presence. A stack of fashion magazines—my favorites—sat next to the bed, and in the bathroom, I noticed my preferred brand of toiletries had been thoughtfully placed alongside Devon’s.

I poured myself a glass of Macallan 25, Devon’s favored whiskey, and made my way to the floor-to-ceiling windows. The New York skyline unfolded before me, buildings shimmering in the late afternoon light. I took a sip, allowing the warmth of the liquid to wash over me, igniting a fire within.

My thoughts drifted back to my mother, Elizabeth Harper. I recalled the days when she prepared me for college, her eyes sparkling with excitement as we toured campuses together. She had been so full of life, her laughter bright and her spirit unyielding. But just weeks later, the world had shifted—she was diagnosed with a rare autoimmune disease that mercilessly attacked her nervous system. I had nearly forfeited my acceptance to Princeton to remain by her side, but she had steadfastly refused.

“Your education comes first, Aria,” she had insisted from her hospital bed, her voice frail yet resolute. “I’ll be right here when you come home for breaks.”

In my semi-conscious state, memories flooded back. My mother brushing my hair before bed, her gentle hands working through the tangles with love. She would sit on the edge of my bed, sharing stories of her college days at Princeton, of meeting my father at an art gallery where she had worked as a curator.

“You’re my treasure, Aria,” she would say, her voice soft and melodic. “Harper’s crown jewel. Whatever you want in this world, I’ll make sure you have it.”

Tears slipped from beneath my closed eyelids, trailing down my temples and into my hair.

“Mom,” I whispered, the name escaping my lips before I could stop it.

Devon’s hand stilled on my hair. For a long moment, he remained motionless beside me. Then, with a gentleness that surprised me even in my dazed state, he wiped away my tears with his thumb.

I felt him shift away, heard the rustle of his clothes as he undressed. Then the covers lifted, and the bed dipped again as he slid in beside me. His body radiated warmth against my back, his arm wrapping around my waist, pulling me against him.

“Sleep,” he whispered, his breath warm against my ear. And surprisingly, I did.

**Chapter 28**