The CEO's Midnight Remedy novel Chapter 29

**Dust Writes New Stories by Rei Holt Wilder**
**Chapter 29**

**Aria’s POV**

A derisive snort escaped my lips. “Let me guess—he’s banking on me seeing whatever it is and then coming running back to him, right?”

“Bingo,” Ryan declared, an impish grin spreading across his face as he pointed an accusatory finger at me. “Want to wager that he’ll be dialing your number within the week, sloshed and pleading for another shot at your heart?”

“No wager,” I replied, shaking my head in disbelief. “He’s as predictable as the sunrise.”

Ryan’s eyes sparkled with mischief, a glimmer of excitement lighting up his expression. “How about this—I’ll bet a hundred grand that you won’t take him back, no matter what grand gestures he pulls or how much he begs.”

I nearly choked on my coffee, the liquid almost spilling over the rim of my cup. “A hundred thousand dollars? Have you lost your mind?”

Ryan flashed a wide grin, his amusement palpable. “I’m bored and loaded, my friend. Plus, I have unwavering faith that your standards have finally risen above the likes of Ethan Blake.”

A laugh bubbled up from deep within me, lifting the weight of the world off my shoulders, if only for a moment. “Your money’s safe, Ryan. I wouldn’t take Ethan back if he were the last man on Earth, I assure you.”

“That’s my girl,” Ryan said, his tone filled with approval. “Now, let’s get serious. What do you need this private investigator for? And please, don’t just say ‘it’s personal’—we’ve known each other for too long for that.”

I hesitated, the gravity of my thoughts weighing heavily on my chest. Finally, I decided to share at least a fragment of the truth. “I have this gut feeling that Victoria might be involved in my mother’s death.”

The playful glint in Ryan’s eyes vanished in an instant, replaced by a look of genuine concern. “That’s… that’s a serious accusation, Aria.”

“I know,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper. “That’s why I need a professional to dig into it.”

Ryan nodded, his expression turning grave. “I’ll call Garrett myself. He’s discreet, and I promise he’ll handle this with the utmost care.”

We continued our conversation for a while longer, Ryan providing me with details about the investigator while offering his unwavering support. As I prepared to leave, he caught my hand, his grip firm yet reassuring.

“Be careful, Aria,” he said, the usual lightheartedness in his voice replaced by a sincere concern. “If there’s any truth to this… Victoria won’t take kindly to someone poking around in her past.”

I squeezed his hand, grateful for his friendship. “I will be careful. Thank you, Ryan.”

—

In the back of an Uber, on my way to my office in Brooklyn, I finally allowed myself a moment to breathe. The whirlwind of the past twenty-four hours had left me emotionally drained—everything from the mysterious man’s unsettling revelations about Victoria to my tense confrontation with her that very morning weighed heavily on my mind.

Suddenly, my phone rang, jolting me from my thoughts. The name Sophia lit up the screen, and I answered, trying to mask my anxiety. “Hey, Soph. How’s your mom holding up?”

“She’s doing okay,” Sophia replied, but her voice was tight, laced with an underlying tension. “But we have a problem, Aria. A big one.”

My heart sank, and I straightened in my seat, instantly alert. “What’s going on?”

“Kane Technologies just called. They’re terminating our contract,” Sophia said, the words tumbling out in a hurried rush. “Effective immediately. They said they’d pay the cancellation fee, but they want the advance payment returned by the end of the week.”

It felt as though I had been punched squarely in the gut. “What? Why on earth would they do that?”

“They wouldn’t elaborate,” Sophia replied, her tone filled with frustration. “The call came from their legal department, not from Kane himself. But Aria… this is bad. We were relying on that contract to keep us afloat for the next quarter.”

“Do you have an appointment?” she asked, her tone polite yet dismissive.

“No, but it’s urgent. Tell him Aria Harper is here.”

Her fingers danced over the keyboard as she checked her screen. “I’m sorry, Ms. Harper, but Mr. Kane is unavailable today. Would you like to schedule something for next week?”

“I’ll wait,” I replied firmly, settling into one of the minimalist chairs in the reception area. “Please let him know I’m here.”

Hours slipped by, and I watched as executives and assistants flowed in and out of the elevators, each one seemingly oblivious to my presence. I busied myself with emails and calls to clients, attempting to project an image of calm determination, even as a knot of anxiety twisted tighter in my stomach. Lunch came and went, yet I remained firmly planted in that chair, resolute in my decision not to leave without seeing Devon.

Around four in the afternoon, a woman in a sharply tailored suit approached me.

“Ms. Harper? I’m Claire Donovan, Mr. Kane’s executive assistant.”

I stood immediately, my determination unwavering. “Thank you for coming down. I need to see Devon—Mr. Kane—immediately about our contract.”

Claire’s expression was a mix of professional sympathy and firm resolve. “I understand your frustration, Ms. Harper, but Mr. Kane is currently hosting our quarterly investment meeting. It’s running all day with representatives from across the globe. He simply cannot step away.”

“Then I’ll continue waiting,” I replied, sitting back down with renewed determination. “I have plenty of time.”

Claire hesitated, glancing at the clock. “The building closes to visitors at six.”

I smiled thinly, my resolve hardening. “Then Mr. Kane has until six to see me.”