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Chapter Forty-Five
Last Updated:
2025-03-31 22:10:06
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Aretha Hawthorne: The Rise Of The PhoenixĀ Ā Ā Chapter Forty-Six
šš«ššš”šI wake up with a jolt, my breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps. The room is dark, but the nightmare lingers, burning behind my eyes like an after-image I canāt blink away. My chest tightens, my pulse hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs, each beat a cruel echo of the fear still curling around my spine.I can still see them. Stellaās smug, knowing smile. Danielās cold, detached stare. The cruel laughter of those who reveled in my humiliation. Their voices slither through my mind, sharp as glass, slicing through the thin veil between past and present. It was just a dream. But it doesnāt feel like one.The air in my bedroom suddenly feels suffocating. I shove the damp sheets aside, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, my bare feet meeting the cold floor. Ground yourself. Breathe. I squeeze my eyes shut and press the heels of my hands against them, as if that alone could drive the memories away. But they refuse to fade, lurking like shadows just out of reach.How l
Last Updated : 2025-03-31Aretha Hawthorne: The Rise Of The PhoenixĀ Ā Ā Chapter Forty-Seven
ššš«ššØš¬The harsh, sterile glow of the overhead lights bathes the operating room in an almost surreal brightness, casting sharp shadows on the masked faces surrounding the table. The steady beeping of the heart monitor fills the silenceācalm, rhythmic, an ever-present reminder that life still clings beneath my scalpel.This moment, this weight of precision and control, is what I live for.I exhale slowly, steadying my grip. āScalpel.āDr. Harriet, standing to my right, responds instantly, placing it in my waiting palm. Her gloved fingers brush against mine, the touch lingering for half a second too long. A deliberate move? Maybe. But now isnāt the time for distractions.āHere,ā she murmurs, her voice low, smooth, as if we arenāt elbows-deep in someoneās open abdomen.I ignore it. Focus is everything.The blade glides along the marked line, parting skin and muscle with practiced ease. The scent of antiseptic thickens as suction whirs, keeping the field clear. Beneath layers of tis
Last Updated : 2025-03-31Aretha Hawthorne: The Rise Of The PhoenixĀ Ā Ā Chapter Forty-Eight
šš«ššš”šThe weekend has arrived once more, but this time, Iād decided to spend it with my best friend, Yemaya, at the apartment we used to share just a couple of months ago while I had worked at The Gilded Stag restaurant. I figured it was high time I returned for a visit, especially since just the week before, she had come to visit me at my parents' mansion and had spent the entire weekend there. Besides, thereās a certain comfort in being back here, in a space filled with memories of late-night gossip, spontaneous dance-offs, and shared struggles. And just to admit it, I had missed my best friend despite being doted on and surrounded by my loving family. Because no one can ever take her place in my life no matter what.And now on this Saturday afternoon, the two of us are craving something sweet, and since Yemaya is the one between the two of us who actually enjoys cooking and baking, sheās taken charge of baking us some Eccles cakesāa British pastry filled with spiced currant
Last Updated : 2025-03-31Aretha Hawthorne: The Rise Of The PhoenixĀ Ā Ā Chapter Forty-Nine
šš«ššš”šThe memory of Harriet pressing her lips too close to the corners of Marcos' mouth replays in my mind like a bitter melody I canāt turn off. The way she clung to him, the possessiveness in her gaze, and how he hadnāt outright rejected her touchāit all festers inside me, an emotion I refuse to name. It shouldnāt matter. It doesnāt matter.But it does.And that alone infuriates me.I should have known better. I should have learned my lesson after Daniel, after the years I wasted believing in a love that was nothing but a mirage. Marcos might not be Daniel, but that doesnāt mean I should entertain the idea of him any longer. The moment I saw him with another womanāsaw him let her touch him like thatāI should have let every foolish inclination I had towards him die on the spot.So I do what I mustāI bury myself in work, throwing myself into tasks that keep my hands busy and my mind even busier. I stop going into the office unless absolutely necessary, opting for virtual meetin
Last Updated : 2025-03-31Aretha Hawthorne: The Rise Of The PhoenixĀ Ā Ā Chapter Fifty
šš«ššš”šThe news is everywhere.Tabloids, newspapers, hushed conversations in hotel lobbies and high-end restaurants. My name, my face, my supposed triumphāspread across the city like wildfire.The lost daughter, now officially found. The hidden gem, finally unveiled.I try not to let it get to me.I bury myself in work, tell myself this is what I wantedāwhat Iāve been preparing for. And for the most part, I believe it. I tell myself Iāve moved past the distractions of Marcus and Cameron, that they no longer occupy space in my mind. That my focus is solely on the company and my role within it.But the illusion only lasts until the night of my fatherās party.A grand affair, of course. My father doesnāt do anything half-heartedly. The ballroom is adorned in gold and ivory, chandeliers dripping with light, the scent of expensive champagne and wealth hanging thick in the air.Dignitaries, business moguls, and high-profile figures mill about, exchanging pleasantries, shaking hands, w
Last Updated : 2025-03-31Aretha Hawthorne: The Rise Of The PhoenixĀ Ā Ā Chapter Fifty-One
ššš«ššØš¬She walks away without looking back, her spine straight, chin up, that fire still burning in her eyes like a challenge.I should be annoyed.But Iām not.Iām fascinated.Thereās something about the way Aretha holds herselfāunyielding, deliberate. Like the worldās tried to break her a thousand times, and sheās still standing, daring anyone to come closer. Or try again.I watch her disappear into the crowd of guests, then exhale slowly, adjusting the cuffs of my tux. This time, Iām the one left standing alone. And damn if it doesnāt feel different.I turn and head back into the golden-lit room where the rest of the party buzzes. The roomās thick with perfume, laughter, and clinking glasses. Chandeliers drip crystals from the ceiling, casting the entire space in a soft, opulent glow. Everyone here is dressed to impressāpoliticians, moguls, heirs, and more. But the moment I step back in, I feel eyes trail after me. Always do.It doesnāt take long to spot Cameron and Nathaniel
Last Updated : 2025-04-06Aretha Hawthorne: The Rise Of The PhoenixĀ Ā Ā Chapter Fifty-Two
šš«ššš”šThe mall is buzzing with energy as Alfie and I walk hand-in-hand past the storefronts, our steps matching in rhythm. Heās practically bouncing beside me, excitement fizzing off him like a shaken soda.āI want to check out the new Nintendo games!ā he exclaims, tugging my arm like heās trying to drag me there himself.I laugh, adjusting my sunglasses as I glance around. āWeāll get there, little man. Letās start with shoes first. Youāve outgrown yoursāyour toes are probably screaming.āāMy toes are fine,ā he mutters dramatically, but he doesn't protest when I guide him into the kidsā footwear store.He slips onto a little bench as the attendant brings options in his size. I sit beside him, watching his nose wrinkle as he examines a pair of lime green sneakers.āThese are loud,ā he declares. āLike, even the birds would hear me coming.āI snort. āIsnāt that the point? So the entire house can hear when you try to sneak cookies after bedtime?āHe flashes me a mischievous grin. ā
Last Updated : 2025-04-07Aretha Hawthorne: The Rise Of The PhoenixĀ Ā Ā Chapter Fifty-Three
šš«ššš”šThe hospital air is coldātoo cold. It seeps through my skin and settles deep into my bones, making me feel like Iām walking through a fog. I sit on one of the stiff plastic chairs in the waiting area, hands clasped tightly in my lap. I mustāve checked the time on my phone a hundred times in the past hour, each glance bringing no new relief.Where are they? Why hasnāt anyone come out yet?I chew on the inside of my cheek, my mind replaying the accident in a relentless loop. The sickening thud of her body brushing the jeepās front grille, the sharp scream that tore from my lips, the way Alfie clutched my hand so tightly as we rushed out of the car. That little girlāso small, so fragileājust darting across like life was a game of tag.Iāve tried to breathe. Iāve tried to pray. Nothing sticks. I feel like Iām going to break apart, right here in this freezing corridor.Then I hear footsteps. Sharp. Hasty. Unforgiving.My eyes lift just in time to see a woman charging toward me
Last Updated : 2025-04-08
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Aretha Hawthorne: The Rise Of The PhoenixĀ Ā Ā Chapter Sixty-Nine
ššš¦šš«šØš§Everything about this meeting screams a trap.I sit in the backseat of a nondescript black SUV, eyes trained on the quiet stretch of road as we drive out of the city. The address I was given isnāt the Barsamian mansion where we had the last meetingāitās a guesthouse tucked into the outskirts of a neighboring city. That alone is a red flag. But what makes it worse is that I was explicitly asked to come alone.Of course, Iām not that foolish.A second vehicle trails behind, discreet and distantāmy hired security detail, professionals I trust with my life. I keep my phone in my hand the entire ride, fingers tapping idly against the screen, sending occasional location updates to my manager just in case.Because this? This feels like the kind of story that ends in a disappearance headline.The guesthouse is impressive in a quiet, understated way. Rustic wood beams, a sweeping stone terrace, and tall windows that reflect the gray morning sky. Inside, it smells like lavender a
Aretha Hawthorne: The Rise Of The PhoenixĀ Ā Ā Chapter Sixty-Eight
ššš¦šš«šØš§The moment I shut the door to my suite, I loosen my collar and finally let the smile fall from my face.Iāve been wearing it like armor all dayāthrough the suffocating politeness, the backhanded compliments, the curt dismissal of logic from a spoilt heir with too much money and too little sense. The matriarch was composed, yes. Graceful even. But her silence when her son spat that sexist garbageā¦That silence said more than I liked.I sink into the armchair by the window, the city of Yerevan sprawled beneath me like a glittering mosaic. I should let it go. But the tension stays, coiled tight between my shoulder blades.With a sigh, I reach for my phone and dial.āHey,ā I say when my marketing manager answers. āI need you to pull up alternatives. If the Barsamians donāt get back to us, we need other options for that stone.āāYouāre thinking theyāll back out?āāIām thinking their prince of a son might poison the whole deal. I just want to be ready.āWe talk logistics, pro
Aretha Hawthorne: The Rise Of The PhoenixĀ Ā Ā Chapter Sixty-Seven
šš«ššš”šThe car ride back to the hotel is quiet.Not awkward. Not tense.Justā¦ still.Cameron alternates between texting on his phone and staring out the window, one of his arms draped over the backseat with his fingers tapping out a silent rhythm against the leather. I watch the landscape blur byāstone buildings and narrow alleyways, ancient churches perched atop hills. The sky is beginning to burn orange at the edges, and for the first time all day, I feel the adrenaline ebb from my body like a tide retreating after a storm.I messed things up. I know I did.But Iād do it again in a heartbeat.We enter the hotel lobby without a word, both of us nodding politely to the concierge who greets us. The golden glow of the chandeliers bathes the space in warmth, but I feel anything but. My shoulders are still tight, my hands still restless.We step into the elevator together, side by side. The polished gold doors slide shut, enclosing us in a gentle hum of silence.I glance at him. āYo
Aretha Hawthorne: The Rise Of The PhoenixĀ Ā Ā Chapter Sixty-Six
šš«ššš”šBy the time we arrive, the estate looks like something out of an oil paintingāornate gates, lush grounds, cobblestone paths winding toward a home that could easily double as a museum. The sky has softened into a lazy afternoon haze, and I still havenāt fully shaken the image of that gun pointed at our driver. But Cameron and I are both dressed in our game faces now, and like good little liars, we smile.A housekeeper ushers us into a sitting room where the matriarch waits.Sheās nothing like I expected.Older, yes, with the kind of face carved by time and quiet power, but thereās nothing soft about her. Her posture is steel, her eyes sharp behind thin, gold-rimmed glasses. She wears a high-necked black dress and sits with the kind of stillness that makes you feel like youāre the one being examined.āMr. Lancaster,ā she says to Cameron, voice low and smooth like aged whiskey. āAnd Missā¦āāHawthorne,ā I offer with a polite smile, extending my hand. She doesnāt take it. She j
Aretha Hawthorne: The Rise Of The PhoenixĀ Ā Ā Chapter Sixty-Five
šš«ššš”šThe door slams shut behind him.Cameron is gone.And Iām frozen.My pulse hammers so loud I can barely hear the silence that follows. That kind of silence that only exists when something horrible is about to happen. The kind that makes your stomach twist and your lungs forget how to breathe.I press a hand to my chest, trying to ground myself, but the cold leather of the seat beneath me feels more surreal than comforting.Outside, I can see themāCameronās tall frame moving like a slow fuse toward a man with a gun. A gun. Pointed directly at our driver, who still stands with his hands raised, eyes wide and pleading. The wind catches the hem of the driverās jacket, and for a second, he just looks so human. So fragile.I curse under my breath and lean forward to get a better view. My fingers grip the edge of the headrest so tight they ache.What the hell is going on?This was supposed to be a business trip. Silk deals, rare jewels, Cameron flirting too much and me pretending
Aretha Hawthorne: The Rise Of The PhoenixĀ Ā Ā Chapter Sixty-Four
ššš¦šš«šØš§The next morning, we hit the road.Our driver, an older man with warm eyes and an encyclopedic knowledge of Armenian history, doubles as a tour guide. As the SUV glides through the countryside, he tells us about the Barsamiansāhow their lineage traces back centuries, how they built an empire from silk and spice and sheer force of will.Aretha listens, chin resting in her palm, her gaze drifting between the window and me. I catch her watching me from the corner of her eye for the fifth time.āWhat?ā I ask, smiling. āYouāre staring.āāIām calculating.āāCalculating what?ā I stretch my arm along the back of her seat, not touching her but close enough that her hair brushes my fingers.āWhether this trip is worth enduring your company for another forty-eight hours.āāOuch.ā I clutch my chest with exaggerated pain. āYou wound me. And here I thought we were starting to bond.āāI donāt bond with trouble.āāYou sat next to me. That makes you complicit.āShe snorts and turns back
Aretha Hawthorne: The Rise Of The PhoenixĀ Ā Ā Chapter Sixty-Three
šš«ššš”šYerevan greets us with a soft haze over the mountains and the thick warmth of afternoon sun pressing against the tarmac. The capital feels like a secret whispered between the ancient and the modernāa city made of stone, sky, and silent stories.Several hours after we land, I expect weād be whisked straight to our client. Thatās what I signed up for. Business. Strictly business.Instead, we end up checking into a hotel nestled in the city centerāa luxury boutique place that smells faintly of rosewater and cedar. I wheel my suitcase into a suite that could easily host a cocktail party, then march back out toward Cameronās room, irritation simmering just under my skin.He opens the door already dressed in a crisp linen shirt and slacks, smelling like something expensive and maddening.āWhy are we here?ā I demand, arms crossed. āI meanāhere, at a hotel? Shouldnāt we be heading to the clientās estate or... at least contacting them?āCameronās smile is entirely too relaxed for
Aretha Hawthorne: The Rise Of The PhoenixĀ Ā Ā Chapter Sixty-Two
šš«ššš”šThe airport is already buzzing when I arriveāsuitcase in hand, coat slung over my arm, and a knot of mild anxiety sitting in my chest. I barely slept last night. My thoughts kept circling back to Cameronās smug face, the glint in his eyes when he said āIāll take that as a yes.ā It irritated me more than I care to admit.Still, Iām here. Against my better judgment, Iām here.I pull out my phone to check my itinerary again when a sharp ding draws my attention. A new notification.My brows knit together as I stare at the screen.A credit alert?The amount is exactādown to the centāof my flight ticket.What theā¦?I spin around and march to the nearest cashier window. āHi, sorryācan I ask about a refund I just received? I donāt remember requesting one.āThe woman behind the glass taps a few keys on her terminal, blinking at her monitor. āYes, maāam. It says here the refund was requested and approved on your behalf.āāBy who?āI hear it before I see it.āWell, well,ā comes a dr
Aretha Hawthorne: The Rise Of The PhoenixĀ Ā Ā Chapter Sixty-One
šš«ššš”šIām still in Marcusās arms, chest to chest, as the crowd roars around us in a frenzy of triumph. My pulse hammers in time with the chant echoing through the stadium. His hands are firm against my waist, anchoring me, while mine are curled around his shoulders, refusing to let go. It should be awkwardāhell, it isābut in this bubble of noise and adrenaline, nothing else exists. Just us. Just this moment.Then I feel it.A shift.My eyes flicker down to his lips. Theyāre parted, breathless from cheering. Thereās a softness there. A dangerous invitation. And IāIām not thinking pure thoughts. At all. I want to kiss him. God, I want to kiss him.But his voice breaks through the haze, low and amused, āWeāre just friends, remember?āItās like cold water on heated skin. My smile is tight, reluctant as I pull away. āRight. Just friends.āWe fall back into our seats, cheering as the team does their victory lap, but the electric charge between us doesnāt fade. Not entirely. Every bru
