The CEO's Midnight Remedy novel Chapter 372

Chapter 372

Devon’s POV

The word left my mouth before I could stop it.

“Good.”

Aria’s amber eyes widened, confusion flickering across her face. I wanted to explain, wanted to tell her that my single syllable meant everything–that I’d give her the legitimacy she craved, the protection our child deserved, the commitment she’d been too afraid to ask for

until desperation forced her hand.

But the ultrasound room suddenly felt too small, the walls closing in. That rapid heartbeat still echoed from the monitor–proof of something I’d never allowed myself to want, something that terrified me more than any business rival or family betrayal ever had.

I turned and walked out before I could say something that would reveal just how completely she’d demolished every defense I’d spent thirty–five years building.

Dr. Richardson looked up from his notes as I passed. “Mr. Kane=”

“Bill me,” I said curtly, already pulling out my phone. “And Doctor? If word of this reaches anyone–family, press, anyone–III make sure you never practice medicine again.”

His face paled. “Of course, Mr. Kane. Doctor–patient confidentiality-

I was already in the elevator, Marcus appearing at my side with his usual efficiency.

“Get the car. I need to go to the estate.”

His expression didn’t change, but I saw the brief hesitation. Marcus had been with me long enough to know that nothing good ever came.

from visits to the Kane family mansion

“Should I notify your mother-

“No.” My jaw clenched. “This conversation doesn’t need advance warning. “

The drive to the Kane mansion took forty minutes, forty minutes in which I tehearsed and discarded a dozen different approaches. My mother would fight this. My father would see it as weakness, an opportunity to gain leverage. Common would find some way to weaponize

But none

none of that mattered anymore. The moment I’d seen that grainy image on th

on the ultrasound screen, felt Arias desperation as shed

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asked me to marry her–badly, vulnerably, with tears streaming down her face–something fundamental had shifted.

I’d spent weeks telling myself this arrangement was temporary, controllable, just another contract to be managed and eventually terminated. But watching Aria cry on that examination table, listening to her worry our child would grow up like she had–alone, unwanted, always reaching for affection that never came–I’d realized the truth I’d been avoiding.

I wasn’t letting her go. Not now. Not ever.

Marcus pulled through the iron gates of the estate, past manicured lawns and perfectly pruned hedges that my mother maintained with obsessive precision. Everything about this place was controlled, contained, utterly bloodless.

Just like the woman who ran it.

I found her on the garden terrace, wearing white linen and pearl earrings, pruning roses with the same ruthless efficiency she applied to everything else. She looked up as I approached, surprise flashing across her aristocratic features.

“Devon. I wasn’t expecting you until Friday.”

“This couldn’t wait.” I sat on the wrought–iron bench, my larger frame making the delicate furniture look almost absurd. “I came to tell

you something. Not to ask permission–to inform you of a decision I’ve already made.”

Her pruning shears paused mid–cut. “That sounds ominous.”

“I’m getting married.”

Eleanor Kane’s face–relief, satisfaction, something that might

The shears lowered. For the first time in years, I saw genuine emotion cross Eleanor Ka

have been maternal warmth.

“Oh, Devon.” Her smile was radiant as she reached for her phone. “Tm so pleased. Let me call Catherine Stevens right away. We can have

the ceremony at the family chapel, no need for a long engagement when

“I’m not marrying Mandy.”

The smile froze. Her hand stilled on her phone. “What?”

The bride is Aria Harper.”

The pruning shears fell from her hand, clattering against the stone terrace with a harsh metallic sound that made me flinch. For a moment, my mother simply stared at me, her carefully maintained composine cracking like porcelain under pressure.

she laughed a cold, bitter sound I remembered from childhood, usually preceding some calculated cruelty

“No. Absolutely not.” She set her phone down with deliberate care. “Devon, I don’t care what little arrangement you have with that Harper girl–playing around, having your fun. I’ve turned a blind eye. But marriage? Bringing her into this family? Thats out of the question.”