The CEO's Midnight Remedy novel Chapter 66

**Dust Writes New Stories by Rei Holt Wilder**
**Chapter 66**

Devon gave a slow nod, and for a fleeting moment, I detected a glimmer of respect in his gaze. “Your team possesses real talent, Aria. Don’t squander it on tired marketing formulas that everyone else is using.”

I took a moment to really observe him, seeing Devon Kane in a way I hadn’t before. This was him at his best—sharp, insightful, and surprisingly adept at breaking down intricate concepts into digestible pieces. In that instant, I began to grasp how he had constructed his empire; it wasn’t merely about wealth and connections. No, this man had a profound understanding of what truly made innovations groundbreaking.

“You know,” I ventured cautiously, “for someone who’s supposedly just our client, you seem to have a significant stake in the success of our approach.”

“I invest in potential,” he replied matter-of-factly. “In both companies and individuals.”

At that moment, something shifted in the air between us—the previous tension morphing into a different kind of energy, one that felt more like a budding mutual respect. We exchanged glances, and I felt an unexpected flutter in my chest, a sensation that had nothing to do with physical attraction but everything to do with a newfound intellectual connection.

Just as I was beginning to savor the moment, my phone buzzed, jolting me back to reality. I glanced at the screen, my heart racing as I noticed a message from an unknown number.

“I need to go,” I said, my focus suddenly fractured. “Thank you for the… advice.”

As I reached for the door handle, I felt a gentle grip on my wrist. “Aria.”

I turned back, locking eyes with his striking gray ones.

“I expect to see that revolutionary approach in your next presentation.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. “Don’t worry, Mr. Kane. I never disappoint twice.”

Once I stepped out of Devon’s sleek Porsche, I instinctively checked my phone again, needing to reassure myself that the message was real. It was indeed from the same unknown number—the enigmatic man who had previously handed me the photographs of Victoria and my father together, just before my mother fell ill.

[I have new information. Urgent. Need money. More damning than last time.]

My heart raced as I watched Devon’s car disappear into the bustling Manhattan traffic. With a surge of nervous energy, I quickly dialed the number.

Fifteen minutes later, he walked in—a middle-aged man sporting dark sunglasses and a baseball cap pulled low over his brow. The scar on his chin was the only distinguishing feature visible. Without a word of greeting, he slid into the seat across from me.

“Do you have what I asked for?” he inquired, his voice barely above a whisper.

I nodded, reaching into my purse for the envelope containing the cashier’s check I had prepared after his initial message. “Fifty thousand, as requested.”

He took the envelope, glancing inside briefly before shoving it into his jacket. Then he slid a small USB drive across the table, his demeanor shifting slightly.

“This is encrypted,” he stated, his voice low and urgent. “The password is your mother’s maiden name, all lowercase, followed by her birth year.”

I picked up the drive, turning it over in my hand, curiosity gnawing at me. “What exactly will I find on here?”

His eyes flitted around the cafe, clearly anxious. “Those files… they’re enough for you to finally kick Victoria and her daughter out of Harper House for good.” He suddenly stood up, urgency radiating from him. “That’s all I can say here.”