Aria is forced to take her stepsister's place to save her father's failing company when her stepsister runs away days before her arranged marriage to billionaire Xavier Harrington. What starts as a cold business arrangement, complete with a humiliating contract and separate bedrooms slowly evolves as Xavier reluctantly begins to notice Aria's business brilliance. Just as something real starts to spark between them, Aria's stepsister Vivian returns, determined to reclaim what she abandoned. As Xavier falls for Vivian's manipulations, Aria discovers she's developed genuine feelings for her ice-cold husband. Aria loses everything when the pair orchestrate a vicious scheme to destroy her reputation and force her out until a mysterious benefactor offers her a second chance and the ultimate choice: walk away or get even.
View MoreARIAI reach out to a man named Jasper Griffith who agrees to meet me with surprising ease when I mention James Harrington's name the next day. As Harrington Consolidated's former security chief, he potentially has information that could confirm or disprove Xavier's suspicions about his parents' deaths.We arrange to meet at Café Lucerne, a small establishment across town, away from any Harrington-affiliated locations.I spend the morning preparing, researching Griffith's background. His twenty-two years with Harrington security was abruptly terminated six months after the "accident" that killed James and Catherine. No public explanation was given, and he's been working as a private security consultant since then, though his client list is notably devoid of major corporations.My phone rings with a blocked number two hours before our meeting."Mrs. Harrington. I need to cancel our appointment," Griffith's voice sounds tight, almost strangled."Is everything alright, Mr. Griffith?" I p
ARIAEleanor's warning echoes in my mind as I sit alone in the library three days after the charity gala.The gentle ticking of the antique clock, a Benson & Wilcox from the 1890s that Xavier's great-grandfather imported from London, is my only companion at 2:37 AM.I'm surrounded by newspaper clippings, financial reports, and archived articles I've been collecting since that night at the gala when Eleanor cornered me with her veiled threats.The smell of old paper and leather bindings mingles with the faint scent of the Earl Grey tea that's gone cold beside me.Xavier's revelations at the mausoleum last week still haunt me.I run my finger along the timeline I've created, starting with the accident that killed James and Catherine Harrington thirteen years ago. The official story seemed straightforward at first, but as I dig deeper, inconsistencies emerge like fractures in glass.The accident occurred exactly three days before James was scheduled to announce a major company restructur
ARIAThe storm shows no sign of abating as midnight approaches.Rain hammers against the stone roof of the mausoleum, and wind howls through cracks in the ancient mortar.I've lost feeling in my legs hours ago, but I don't dare move and disturb Xavier's fitful sleep.His head remains heavy in my lap and his breathing occasionally catching on what sounds suspiciously like suppressed sobs.When he finally stirs, the disorientation in his eyes is immediate. He blinks rapidly, trying to place his surroundings, then freezes when he realizes his position.The vulnerability I witnessed earlier begins to shutter behind his usual visage of control."How long have I been out?" His voice is rough, throat raw from emotion and whiskey."A few hours," I answer softly. "The storm's trapped us here."He sits up abruptly, wincing at what must be a splitting headache. "You should have woken me." The words are accusatory yet lack their usual bite."You needed the rest."Xavier runs a hand through his dis
ARIAThe nightmare incident stays with me in the days that follow.Xavier behaved as if nothing happened the next morning, discussing upcoming meetings with his usual precision. However, something fundamental has shifted. I've glimpsed the wounded man beneath the cold exterior, and I can't unsee it.Occasionally, I catch him watching me when he thinks I'm not looking, his expression thoughtful, perhaps wondering what I'm thinking about what I witnessed.I also find myself watching him more carefully, noticing the subtle signs of exhaustion that suggest it wasn't an isolated occurrence: the almost imperceptible shadows beneath his eyes, the extra cup of coffee he requires in the mornings, the way he occasionally loses focus during conversations with his mind clearly elsewhere.Xavier doesn't show up for the quarterly board meeting. His absence is like a black hole at the head of the conference table, drawing everyone's attention despite Timothee Cartoon’s attempts to proceed normally.H
ARIATime fly by since that humiliating morning fight with Xavier.The memory of his cruel words about my body being "too unattractive" still burns. Yet in these weeks, something unexpected happens. I discover my own power.The transformation begins at the Harrington Foundation Gala when Eleanor collapses mid-speech.I move with efficiency, discreetly signaling security, clearing a path for medical personnel, and redirecting attention from the spectacle with social grace."You handled that like you were born to it," Eleanor tells me later from her hospital bed, her shrewd eyes reassessing me.This single moment shifts everything. Eleanor begins inviting me to join her morning financial discussions. "My grandson may have married you for convenience," she says one morning, sliding the quarterly reports toward me, "However, we underestimated what you can bring to the table."Xavier seems determined to prove her wrong. He assigns me Atlantic Boutique Hotels, a failing chain the board had a
ARIAMy consciousness swims to the surface from a deep sleep the next morning.Something's wrong. The mattress beneath me feels unusually firm, almost unyielding against my back, nothing like the plush comfort I'm accustomed to sinking into each night.There's also a strange pressure on my lower abdomen, something solid and warm pressing insistently against me.Confusion clouds my mind as I struggle to orient myself.My eyelids feel heavy, reluctant to open as if weighed down by invisible anchors. I force them apart slowly, blinking away the haze of sleep, expecting to see the familiar pattern of my bedroom ceiling.Instead, I find myself staring directly into a pair of eyes. Blue eyes. Cold, piercing blue eyes like shards of winter ice, watching me with an intensity that sends a jolt of adrenaline straight through my body.They're mere inches from my face, close enough that I can see the darker ring around his irises, the flecks of steel gray near the pupils.Xavier!"What the—!" The
ARIAI never got so much as a thank-you for the note I left in Xavier’s study. Not that I’m surprised. Hell would probably freeze over before he gave me the credit I deserve. His overinflated pride wouldn’t allow it.I’m sitting in the family section of the boardroom, watching Xavier look like the picture of confidence in his perfect suit.Eleanor's at the head of the table, practically radiating power despite being ancient.Harold's next to her, watching the board members with a cold gaze.When Xavier hits the Asian strategy section, I hold my breath. And then he starts presenting MY analysis - word for word, my data, my insights, my recommendations. He delivers it like it was his brilliant idea all along.The board eats it up.Dr. Blackwell - apparently the toughest critic in the room - is actually nodding and taking notes."This analysis shows remarkable depth," he says after Xavier finishes. "Especially how you've woven cultural factors into the market projections. Much more sophis
Days flew by and turned to weeks.I’ve been pondering a lot about my life and how to change it.Today, I decide to do something daring.The Harrington Consolidated headquarters takes up thirty floors of a gleaming skyscraper in Midtown, with a lobby screaming "we're rich but tasteful" - rare marble floors and museum-quality art.I've only been here once since getting married.Today's visit? Totally different. Unscheduled. Unexpected."Mrs. Harrington," the receptionist says, clearly surprised when I step off the private elevator. "We weren't expecting you today.""I need to speak with my husband," I reply with practiced poise. "It's rather urgent."The receptionist hesitates. "Mr. Harrington is in meetings all afternoon. Maybe Mr. Chen could help you? He handles most of the family's personal matters."Five months ago, I might have accepted being pushed toward "personal matters" instead of business. Today, I smile."I'm afraid this requires Xavier directly. I'll wait in his office." Mic
ARIAMy breath catches as panic flares hot and bright behind my eyes. Black spots dance at the edges of my vision.I grab his wrist instinctively, digging my nails into his skin, but it's like trying to move marble.Still, I refuse to look away. I refuse to give him that satisfaction.The room tilts and sways around us."You should be," he whispers in a voice trembling with barely contained rage.His hand shakes on my throat, betraying the war within him. "You should remember your place. You're nothing but a contract wife. A pawn."His face comes closer, swimming in my oxygen-deprived vision. "I could end all of this with a single word. I could let your father die and watch you crawl back to me, begging."My lungs burn, desperate for air and blood pounds in my ears like war drums.My vision blurs at the edges and the room's opulence fades to gray still I manage to choke out, "Then do it. If that's who you really are, then do it!"Xavier’s grip tightens, and for a heartbeat that stretch
"These can't be right."Aria hunched over the quarterly reports, the numbers swimming before her eyes. Each column told the same story—a downward spiral that had begun years ago, almost to the day her father had married Victoria Pierce.She tucked a strand of dark curls behind her ear. Her fingers left a smudge of ink on her cheek, unnoticed as she recalculated the figures for the third time.The office around her had emptied hours ago. At twenty-four, Aria was often the first to arrive and the last to leave, desperately trying to keep her father's legacy from crumbling beneath the weight of mounting debt.The business degree she'd worked so hard for at State University—scholarship-funded, unlike Vivian's designer education was being put to use in ways her professors had never covered: how to stretch payments, which creditors to prioritize, when to beg for extensions.Her phone vibrated on the desk. A notification from Instagram. Without thinking, she tapped it open.Vivian Pierce's p...
Welcome to GoodNovel world of fiction. If you like this novel, or you are an idealist hoping to explore a perfect world, and also want to become an original novel author online to increase income, you can join our family to read or create various types of books, such as romance novel, epic reading, werewolf novel, fantasy novel, history novel and so on. If you are a reader, high quality novels can be selected here. If you are an author, you can obtain more inspiration from others to create more brilliant works, what's more, your works on our platform will catch more attention and win more admiration from readers.
Comments