The CEO's Midnight Remedy novel Chapter 289

Chapter 289

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“Aria Harper, I presume,” she said, her voice carrying the refined accent of Boston’s elite. “Please, sit.”

I remained standing. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.”

A thin smile curved her lips. “Eleanor Kane. I thought it was time we met.”

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My stomach tightened. Devon’s mother. The woman who, according to society pages, had orchestrated generations of beneficial marriages

within Boston’s upper echelon.

“I wasn’t aware we had an appointment,” I replied, sinking into the chair opposite her, determined not to show weakness.

“Tea? Or coffee? We Bostonians prefer tea.” She pushed a delicate porcelain cup toward me, ignoring my comment. “I understand you

attended Princeton. Not a family tradition, I take it? First–generation college student?”

The question carried the faintest note of condescension, carefully calibrated to remind me of my position–or rather, my lack of position- in her world. I felt the weight of generations of breeding and wealth pressing down on me, questioning my right to sit at this table.

“Yes, I earned a scholarship,” I answered, meeting her gaze directly. “I’m quite proud of that achievement.”

“As you should be,” she replied, her tone suggesting otherwise. She took a measured sip of tea before setting down her cup with practiced precision. “Let’s discuss the matter at hand, shall we?”

She reached into her Hermès handbag and withdrew a checkbook bound in soft leather. “I understand young women’s ambitions and… needs.” She paused, studying my reaction. “My son is currently negotiating a merger of families with Mandy Stevens. It’s been planned for quite some time–a union of compatible backgrounds and interests. Not something to be disrupted by a… temporary distraction.”

Her words landed like precise knife cuts. I remained silent, unwilling to give her the satisfaction of seeing me flinch.

“You seem intelligent, Ms. Harper.” She uncapped a fountain pen that probably cost more than my first month’s rent. ‘I believe five million dollars would be sufficient for you to begin a new venture. Somewhere far from Devon.”

She wrote the check with elegant strokes, the scratch of pen against paper the only sound besides the distant chirping of birds,

“Mrs. Kane, I’m not-” I began, my voice growing softer despite my efforts.

“Take it,” she interrupted, sliding the check toward me. “It’s best for everyone involved.”

I stared at the check. Five million dollars. Enough to save my company, to secure Sophia’s future, to rebuild my beach house. My hand moved toward it almost of its own accord, fingers trembling slightly. The humiliation burned in my chest, but pragmatism whispered that this might be the simplest solution to the complex web I’d entangled myself in.

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Chapter 289

My fingertips had just brushed the edge of the check when a hand clamped around my wrist.

“I’m only worth five million?” Devon’s voice came from behind me, deceptively calm but laced with danger.

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My heart stopped. I hadn’t heard him approach, but his presence filled the garden terrace like a gathering storm. His grip on my wrist was

firm–not painful, but inescapable.

Eleanor’s composure slipped for just a moment, her eyes widening in surprise. “Devon,” she recovered quickly, “aren’t you supposed to be

in a board meeting?”

“Evidently, I came at precisely the right time.” His fingers tightened almost imperceptibly around my wrist, his thumb pressing against my

racing pulse.

“Mandy was asking about you last week,” Eleanor said, her voice taking on a persuasive tone. “The Stevens family is prepared to announce

“There is nothing to announce, Mother, Devon cut her off, his voice sharp as a blade. “There never was.”

He reached past me and took the check from the table. With deliberate slowness, he tore it into pieces, letting them fall into his mother’s

delicate bone china teacup.

“We’re leaving, Aria.” It wasn’t a request.

He pulled me to my feet, his fingers like iron bands around my wrist. I felt caught between two immovable forces–Eleanor’s cold disapproval and Devon’s barely contained fury—with no room to voice my own thoughts or make my own choices.

As Devon led me away, Eleanor’s final words carried across the garden: “Consider your choices carefully, Ms. Harper.”

I glanced back to see her watching us, her expression a complex mixture of warning and something that might have been pity.

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