The CEO's Midnight Remedy novel Chapter 69

**Dust Writes New Stories by Rei Holt Wilder**
**Chapter 69**

**Aria’s POV**

只今

It had been nearly two hours since I returned to the office, following an unexpected lunch with Devon and Caroline. The emotional whirlwind their interaction had stirred within me was proving difficult to compartmentalize. Each thought felt like a tangled thread, pulling me in various directions.

“Is there anything else you need before I head out?” Sofia appeared in my doorway, her bag already slung over her shoulder, the weight of her concern evident in her dark eyes. “I can stick around if you want to go over the revisions for the Kane presentation.”

I shook my head, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes. “No, it’s alright. You should go home. Your mom needs you more than I do right now. I’m just going to finalize some concepts for Devon’s blockchain campaign.”

“Are you sure?” She lingered, her gaze searching mine for any signs of distress. “You’ve seemed a bit off since you returned from lunch. Everything okay?”

The USB drive nestled in my purse felt like a hot coal, its presence a constant reminder of the secrets it held. I hadn’t confided in Sofia about my mysterious contact or the potential evidence against Victoria. Part of me yearned to share this burden, to unburden my soul to my friend. But another part—the protective instinct—urged me to shield her from the darkness that had begun to envelop my thoughts.

“I’m fine,” I assured her, though the words felt hollow. “Just a bit preoccupied with the Kane account. We really need to nail this presentation redo, especially after Devon’s rather public rejection of our first attempt.”

Sofia nodded, but I could see the flicker of doubt in her eyes. “Just don’t stay too late, okay? Even marketing geniuses need their beauty sleep.”

Once she left, I redirected my focus to my laptop, determined to dive into the Kane Technology proposal. The clock was ticking, and our one-month contract was drawing to a close. I needed this campaign to dazzle. Surprisingly, Devon’s insights about blockchain psychology had been incredibly illuminating, offering a fresh perspective I hadn’t considered before.

Time slipped away as I worked, the office gradually descending into silence. By nine o’clock, I found myself alone, the stillness punctuated only by the occasional ping of late emails and the distant hum of the air conditioning system. My eyes ached from the relentless glow of the screen, yet satisfaction coursed through me as I reviewed the progress I had made. The new approach was innovative, precisely what Devon had requested—a campaign that emphasized trust and relational transformation rather than mere technical specifications.

I stretched, my muscles protesting after being confined to my chair for so long. The thought of returning to my empty apartment felt daunting, almost oppressive. The couch in our office lounge was surprisingly comfortable; I had crashed there on deadline nights before. Decision made, I shot a quick text to the building’s security guard, letting him know I wouldn’t be returning home tonight. Then, I gathered my belongings and made my way to the lounge.

The small room was equipped with a plush sectional, a mini fridge stocked with snacks, and a decent shower in the attached bathroom—all the essentials for an unplanned overnight stay. I kicked off my heels and sank onto the couch, finally allowing myself to confront the USB drive that had been nagging at my thoughts throughout the afternoon.

It was a small, unassuming black drive, the kind you could easily find at any electronics store. Nothing about it indicated that it might hold evidence of something as sinister as murder, yet my fingers trembled slightly as I plugged it into my laptop.

Yet, doubt gnawed at me as I stared at the screen. The evidence appeared too perfect, too comprehensive. What were the chances that this mysterious man had managed to compile all of this information? And what was his motive for helping me? What could he possibly gain from this?

“These files look real, but…” I muttered to myself, scrolling through the documents once more. “How did he gain access to internal hospital records? And those hair samples—where did they originate? Did Mom somehow suspect something and preserve evidence?”

A sharp pain shot through my temple, causing me to wince. I recognized the familiar onset of one of my migraines; they always seemed to strike at the most inconvenient times, particularly when I was under stress. I rummaged through my purse until I located the small prescription bottle my doctor had given me for these episodes. I swallowed a pill dry, then closed my eyes, waiting for the medication to take effect.

As the pain began to ebb, I found my thoughts clearing enough to focus. I needed to approach this with caution. If Victoria had indeed murdered my mother, I couldn’t simply accuse her without absolute certainty that the evidence was authentic. One misstep could lead to devastating consequences.

“I need to verify these records,” I resolved, closing the laptop with determination. “I have to check with the hospital, track down that lab, and find out if this ‘Victoria Ross’ truly exists. Otherwise, I might just be playing into someone else’s hands.”

The medication was making me drowsy, and I stretched out on the couch, pulling a throw blanket over myself. Tomorrow, I would visit my father at the hospital. His reaction to my subtle probing might provide insight into whether he was complicit in Victoria’s schemes or merely a pawn in her game.

“I won’t let them get away with this, Mom,” I whispered into the darkened room as sleep began to claim me. “I promise.”