The CEO's Midnight Remedy novel Chapter 6

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

**Aria’s POV**

I dashed away from the imposing façade of my father’s mansion on the Upper East Side, my heart racing as I made my way back to the sanctuary of my Brooklyn apartment. The chaos of the evening lingered in the air like a storm cloud, and I craved the solace of my own space. Once inside, the familiar surroundings wrapped around me like a warm blanket, but my gaze was immediately drawn to the photograph dominating my living room wall. There she was—my mother, Elizabeth Harper—her radiant smile frozen in time, her eyes sparkling with life and warmth. In that moment of stillness, I surrendered to the weight of my emotions, and the tears I had been holding back began to flow freely.

“I’m so sorry, Mom,” I murmured, my fingers grazing the frame of the photo as if I could somehow reach through the glass and touch her. “I feel like I’m ruining everything.”

The sting on my cheek from my father’s slap was a stark reminder of the evening’s events, but that physical pain was nothing compared to the humiliation of being struck down in front of Ethan and Scarlett. It had been five long years since my mother’s passing, and the Harper household had transformed into something unrecognizable. The home that once echoed with laughter and warmth now felt like a battlefield, where I was constantly outnumbered by my father’s new family, who seemed all too eager to fill the void she left behind.

Just then, my phone buzzed, breaking the heavy silence. I half-expected it to be Sophia, checking in after our grueling day of revisions, but to my surprise, Ryan Winters’ name lit up the screen. My childhood neighbor and longtime friend wasn’t someone I frequently spoke to these days, but his timing couldn’t have been better.

“Hey, stranger,” I answered, attempting to conceal the tremor in my voice, the remnants of my earlier distress still clinging to me.

“Aria Harper! You have to tell me you’re free tonight,” Ryan’s voice boomed through the speaker, brimming with excitement. “I’ve got a potential client who’s a perfect fit for Stellar Impressions—big budget, looking for something fresh. They specifically asked about boutique agencies.”

A flicker of hope ignited within me, and I straightened in my seat. “Seriously? Who is it?”

“A luxury accessories brand looking to reposition itself. They’ll be at Blue Sapphire tonight. I can introduce you if you come.”

Under normal circumstances, I would have insisted on a formal meeting at our office, but after today’s disaster with my family and the financial pressure Sophia had laid bare, I felt desperate.

“What time should I be there?” I asked, already heading toward my closet, my heart racing at the prospect of a reprieve from my current turmoil.

“Meet me at nine. Wear something that screams ‘I’m successful and worth every penny.’ I told them you’re the best in the business.”

After hanging up, I surveyed my closet with a newfound determination. Tonight was not just about clothes; it was about donning my armor for battle. I chose a striking crimson slip dress, its delicate straps crossing at the back—a bold statement that exuded confidence while remaining sophisticated enough for a business networking event. I paired it with sleek black stilettos and silver statement earrings that had belonged to my mother, a tangible connection to her strength.

As I carefully applied my makeup, ensuring to cover the faint redness on my cheek, my thoughts drifted to Devon Kane’s piercing gaze during our earlier meeting. His criticism had been sharp but undeniably accurate. I needed this new client—not only to avoid the humiliation of returning to my father’s fold but also to demonstrate to Devon that Stellar Impressions was worthy of his contract.

By eight-thirty, I found myself in a cab heading toward Manhattan, my professional portfolio tucked neatly into a sleek black clutch. The dual weight of my personal and professional crises felt overwhelming, but I welcomed the chance to channel my energy into something productive.

Upon arriving at Blue Sapphire, the exclusive nightclub pulsed with a frenetic energy that matched my own racing heart. The line stretched around the block, a testament to its reputation. I quickly texted Ryan to let him know I’d arrived, and within moments, he appeared at the entrance, effortlessly charming the bouncer into allowing me past the velvet rope.

“You look incredible,” Ryan said, planting a quick kiss on my cheek. “Come on, they’re waiting for us in the VIP section.”

As we navigated through the throng of people, the flashing lights and thumping bass created a dizzying atmosphere. I focused intently on following Ryan’s tall frame through the sea of bodies, mentally rehearsing my elevator pitch, my heart pounding in sync with the music.

When we finally reached the VIP area, Ryan paused, casting me an apologetic glance that sent alarm bells ringing in my mind.

“Ryan,” I said slowly, my voice laced with suspicion, “where’s this potential client?”

His words struck a nerve—Scarlett had indeed made a habit of coveting my possessions since she moved into our home—but I refused to let him manipulate me.

“So you slept with her because, what, she was too persuasive?” I laughed bitterly, the sound harsh in the air. “That’s pathetic, even for you.”

Ethan’s expression darkened, anger flaring in his eyes. “Have you forgotten how you pursued me in college? You practically begged me to date you, Aria. You were the one desperate for my attention back then.”

The cruel reminder of my past naivety stung worse than my father’s slap. I had once been that girl—starry-eyed and convinced that Ethan Blake was worth any humiliation. But those days were gone.

“Let me go, Ethan,” I warned as his fingers closed around my arm, his grip painfully tight.

“Do you have someone new?” he demanded, his voice rising with each word. “Is that what this is about? That guy you were with at the hotel? Who is he?”

When I remained silent, his anger flared. He pulled me closer, his bourbon-soaked breath hot against my face. “No one will want you like I did, Aria. No one knows what you really are—a desperate little girl playing at business, running a company that’s one client away from bankruptcy.”

I struggled against his grip, panic rising as he leaned in, clearly intent on kissing me despite my resistance. Just as I prepared to knee him somewhere painful, a strong arm shot between us, shoving Ethan back with controlled force.

“Mr. Blake,” a cool, measured voice cut through the chaos, “I suggest you compose yourself. This behavior is hardly befitting your public image.”

I froze, instantly recognizing that voice. Standing beside me, radiating an aura of controlled power in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit, was none other than Devon Kane.