The CEO's Rejected Wife And Secret Heir novel Chapter 122

Chapter 122: Chapter 122: The Setup

Aria’s POV

A few days after the gala, I was drowning in merger paperwork when my phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number.

"Thought you should know—your ’changed man’ is at the Riverside Hotel. Room 1247. With a blonde, some things never change."

My blood turned cold. No, not again, he wouldn’t. Another text, this time with a photo. Damien’s car in the hotel parking lot, unmistakable with its custom plates.

My hands shook as I stared at the image of the Riverside Hotel.

It’s a setup, my logical mind screamed. It’s too obvious, too convenient.

But my heart—my shattered, barely-healed heart—whispered: What if it’s real? What if you were stupid enough to trust him again?

I called Damien but it went straight to voicemail. Called again. Voicemail.

Texted: "Where are you?"

No response.

"No." I stood abruptly, grabbing my purse. "No, no, no."

"Ms. Monroe?" My assistant looked up, concerned. "Are you alright?"

"Cancel my afternoon meetings." My voice was steady despite the panic clawing at my chest. "Family emergency."

I was in my car before I could second-guess myself, driving toward the Riverside Hotel with my heart in my throat. Traffic blurred past. My mind spun with possibilities, each worse than the last.

He wouldn’t do this again. He’s been so devoted, so patient. He loves Noah, he loves me.

But men like Damien don’t change. Isn’t that what Sophia said?

This is a trap, it has to be a trap.

But what if it’s not?

I pulled into the hotel parking lot, and there it was—Damien’s car, exactly where the photo showed it as my stomach dropped.

I called him one more time as I walked through the lobby. Voicemail again. The elevator ride to the twelfth floor felt like descending into hell. Each floor chimed mockingly, twelve floors to discover if I’d made the same mistake twice.

Room 1247. I stood outside the door, hand raised to knock, unable to move.

Last chance to walk away, to not know for sure, to preserve the fantasy you’ve been building.

But I couldn’t live with not knowing, I couldn’t spend the rest of my life wondering.

The door was slightly ajar, my heart hammered as I pushed it open. The room was dim, curtains drawn. And there, on the bed was Damien. Unconscious. Shirt partially unbuttoned, tie loosened.

And Sophia Clarke, wearing nothing but red lingerie and a satisfied smile, holding her phone up for photos.

"Perfect timing," she purred. "I was just about to send these to the press. ’CEO Damien Blackwood Caught Cheating Again.’ It’ll be on the front page by morning."

For one horrible second, the world tilted. The scene before me overlapped with a memory—walking in on Damien and Vivian years ago, the same devastation, the same betrayal.

But this time

This time, something was wrong.

Damien wasn’t moving at all. His chest rose and fell shallowly, but his face was slack, unconscious in a way that looked nothing like sleep.

"What did you do to him?" My voice was deadly calm.

Sophia’s smile faltered. "What? Nothing. We just"

"He’s unconscious." I moved closer, checking his pulse. Strong but slow. Pupils dilated when I lifted an eyelid. "You drugged him."

"I didn’t" Sophia stood, grabbing a robe. "He came here willingly. We had drinks, and"

"Liar." I pulled out my phone, dialing 911 with steady hands. "Yes, I need an ambulance at the Riverside Hotel, room 1247. Possible drug overdose."

"You can’t," Sophia lunged for my phone.

I sidestepped her easily, my voice never wavering as I gave the operator details. Years of surviving alone had made me harder than Sophia Clarke could ever imagine.

"The photos are already sent," Sophia hissed when I hung up. "To every major news outlet, your precious Damien is finished."

"No." I turned to face her fully, and something in my expression made her step back. "You’re finished, because this" I gestured at the room, at Damien’s unconscious form, "is assault. Drugging someone, staging compromising photos? That’s criminal."

"You can’t prove"

"Hotel security footage will show you luring him here." My voice was cold. "Toxicology reports will show what you put in his drink. And those photos you’re so proud of?" I smiled without humor. "They prove premeditation, you posed him. Staged everything. That’s evidence, Sophia."

Her face paled. "He’ll never prove he didn’t want this."

"He won’t have to." I heard sirens approaching. "I will. Because unlike last time, I’m not running. I’m not assuming the worst. I’m standing by him and I’m destroying everyone who tried to hurt him."

"You’re delusional," Sophia spat. "He’s using you! He’ll cheat again, he always does"

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