The CEO's Rejected Wife And Secret Heir novel Chapter 24

Chapter 24: Chapter 24: Breaking point

Aria POV

"Am I?" I leaned my head against the window. "Because it doesn’t feel like it."

"You stood up to your parents. You’re protecting your son. You’re running a successful company." She glanced at me. "Sounds like handling it to me."

"I don’t feel successful." The words came out before I could stop them. "I feel tired."

"Then rest." She said it like it was simple.

"I can’t." I closed my eyes. "If I rest, I’ll fall apart. And I can’t fall apart. Not now. Not with Damien circling and my parents making threats and Vivian doing God knows what."

"Vivian?" Olivia’s voice sharpened. "What’s Vivian doing?"

"I don’t know." I opened my eyes. "But she’s been too quiet. That’s never good."

"Maybe she’s moved on." Olivia didn’t sound convinced.

"Vivian doesn’t move on." I turned to look at her. "She wins. Or she destroys it. There’s no in-between."

The leather seat creaked under me as I shifted, my neck aching from staying in an uncomfortable position. I rolled my shoulders, feeling the tension sitting there like a weight.

"So what do you think she’s planning?" She merged onto the highway.

The car hummed as we picked up speed, other vehicles blurring past the window. I watched them without really seeing, my mind somewhere else, trying to figure out what my sister’s next move would be.

"I don’t know." I pulled out my phone again and scrolled through my emails. "But I’m going to find out."

The screen was too bright—I squinted at it and adjusted the brightness down while my inbox loaded slowly, the little circle spinning in the center.

Nothing suspicious. Just the usual business emails. Partnership proposals. Meeting requests.

I skimmed through them—delete, delete, mark as unread, delete. The same routine I did every morning. Most of it was junk anyway, people wanting meetings I didn’t have time for.

Then I saw it. A message from an unknown sender. Subject line: You might want to see this.

My finger hovered over it as something in my gut twisted. I should delete it. Probably spam or a virus. But I opened it anyway.

My blood turned to ice.

The phone felt suddenly cold in my hand, like all the warmth had been sucked out of it. It was a grainy photo taken from a distance.

I zoomed in, the image pixelating before coming back into focus as my heart stopped.

Noah. In the park. Playing on the swings.

His little legs pumped back and forth—I could see his red sneakers, the ones with the lights that blinked when he walked. He was smiling, his mouth open like he was laughing.

And in the corner of the photo, barely visible, was a figure watching him.

A dark shape standing away from the other parents, away from the playground, just standing there like a shadow that didn’t belong.

I couldn’t tell who it was—the image was too blurry.

But the message was clear.

Someone was watching my son.

"Pull over." My voice came out strangled.

The words barely made it past my throat as everything felt tight, like someone had wrapped their hands around my neck and squeezed.

"What? Why?" Olivia glanced at me.

Her eyes left the road for just a second before returning while she continued driving at full speed, the highway stretching out ahead of us.

"Pull over now." I gripped the phone so hard my knuckles went white.

The plastic case dug into my palm, my fingers aching, but I couldn’t let go, couldn’t look away from the photo.

She swerved into a parking lot and stopped the car.

The tires screeched as the smell of burnt rubber filled the air. My body jerked forward against the seatbelt, then back against the seat.

The engine was still running, making that low rumbling sound, but we weren’t moving anymore.

"What’s wrong?" She turned to face me.

I showed her the photo and watched her face go pale.

The color drained from her cheeks as she reached for the phone, but I pulled it back, holding it closer to me.

"Oh my God." Her hand flew to her mouth. "Who sent this?"

"They’ve been watching him," I said, my voice cracking on the last word.

Olivia snatched the phone from my hand, her eyes moving across the screen as her face went from pale to white, like all the blood had drained out.

"This is insane." She shoved the phone back at me. "We’re calling the police. Right now. I don’t care what you say."

"Wait." I held up my hand, my fingers still shaking. "Just wait."

"Wait for what? For them to actually grab him?" Her voice got louder.

She was right. The photos proved it. Someone had followed us. They knew when Noah was vulnerable.

"Aria, someone took a picture of your son." She pulled away.

"I know." I looked at the photo again, trying to see any identifying features. "But if we call the police, it becomes public. Noah’s name gets out there. His face. Everything."

"Better public than dead." Olivia’s voice was harsh.

She was right. I knew she was right.

But the thought of Noah’s picture being plastered across every news site, every gossip rag...

"Let me handle it." I saved the photo. "I’ll hire private security. Bodyguards. Whatever it takes."

"Aria" Olivia started.

"Please." I looked at her. "Just give me twenty-four hours. If nothing changes, we call the police. I promise."

She studied my face, then nodded reluctantly.

"Twenty-four hours." She held up a finger. "That’s it."

"Thank you." I looked at the photo again.

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