Aria's POV
"Aria, are you okay?"
Damon's voice was soft, like velvet sliding over raw skin. I blinked as the last trace of sedation faded from my bloodstream. The hospital lights were too white, too sterile, but his presence… it calmed the ache that throbbed through my skull and stomach.
"I'm okay," I whispered, my voice cracking. "I think."
"You scared me," he said, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "You don't get to do that."
I gave a weak laugh, my lips trembling. "Noted."
He kissed my temple and helped me sit up. "Come home with me. You need care. Not a hospital hallway where people can sneak in and poison your IV." His tone dipped into steel.
I shivered, remembering Celeste's twisted smirk as the darkness swirled around me. She'd tried to kill me. And for what? A man?
No. Damon wasn't just a man.
He was the man. The only one who'd seen me beneath the shattered layers, the only one who looked at me like I wasn't broken.
I nodded. "Okay."
Damon's penthouse was like stepping into another planet—one that whispered wealth, danger, and seduction in every corner.
Marble floors. Floor-to-ceiling windows. A grand piano I was certain no one touched except maybe ghosts.
He helped me into the plush master suite and wrapped me in his robe. The scent of him—amber, leather, desire—clung to me like sin.
"You should eat something." He moved into the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, hair tousled. Damon Westin, billionaire tycoon, cooking for me like this was normal.
Like I mattered.
I watched him slice vegetables with the precision of a surgeon. "You cook?"
"I do now," he said without looking up. "For you."
My throat tightened. I looked down at my hands, then up again—he was watching me.
"Come here," he said.
I walked slowly to the island. He reached over the counter and pulled me into his arms, pressing my cheek to his chest. His heartbeat thundered beneath my skin.
"You've been through hell," he murmured. "And you still survived."
"I don't feel like I'm surviving," I whispered. "I feel like I'm falling."
His hand cradled the back of my neck. "Then I'll catch you."
Later, in the shower, steam curled around us like a cocoon.
His hands were slow. Reverent. Tracing each bruise Celeste left like he was trying to erase them with touch.
"I want to kill her," he said quietly.
"You already broke her when you chose me," I whispered.
That made him stop. "I didn't choose you out of revenge, Aria. I chose you because I couldn't breathe without you anymore."
I opened my mouth to answer, but he silenced me with a kiss. A deep, aching, possessive kiss.
And then there were no more words.
Just skin. Breath. Whimpers swallowed by moans. His body moved over mine like he was memorizing me. Worshipping me. Each time he whispered my name, it was like an apology and a promise wrapped into one.
I clung to him, not just from the waves of pleasure, but from the fear of what would come when the dawn broke.
The next morning, sunlight warmed the silk sheets tangled around my legs.
I stirred, the ache between my thighs reminding me of the night before—his mouth, his hands, the way he held me like I was something fragile and precious.
There was a note beside the bed. Damon's handwriting was bold and clean.
"Rest. I've taken care of breakfast. Stay in bed. No meetings today unless your name is on them. – D."
I smiled, pressing the note to my chest. My fingers drifted to my belly, and that same rush of panic coiled like a storm beneath my ribs.
I closed my eyes and buried my face in the pillow, breathing in his scent like it could anchor me.
The silence was perfect—until my phone rang.
I fumbled for it on the nightstand.
Unknown Number.
My heart stopped.
"Hello?"
"Aria… it's me." The voice was raspy. Weak.
"Lila?" I sat up, the sheet falling from my chest.
My baby sister. My everything.
"I need to see you," she said. "Please. I… I don't know how much longer I can…"
"Lila—wait, what happened? What's going on?" My pulse spiked, fear rushing into my throat.
"They said something about my heart. I'm scared. Can you come now?"
I was already out of bed. "Yes. I'm coming."
I didn't wait to dress properly—just grabbed one of Damon's oversized shirts and my jeans. My fingers trembled as I stuffed my feet into shoes, nearly slipping on the marble.
Why now?
Why when everything had started to make sense again?
I was halfway to the elevator when my phone buzzed again.
Damon: Don't go alone. Let me send a driver.
Me: I have to go now. It's Lila.
No time. No more waiting.
This was my sister.
When I arrived at the hospital, my breath caught in my chest. Everything smelled like antiseptic and loss.
Room 218. I knew it like I knew my name.
I pushed open the door and—
"Lila…" My voice broke at the sight of her.
She was pale. So small. Like the bed had swallowed her whole.
Her eyes lit up when she saw me. "You came."
"Of course I came." I rushed to her side, grabbing her hand.
"I had a dream last night," she said softly, smiling. "You had a baby."
My stomach twisted.
"I don't know why… but you looked so happy."
Tears welled up. "Lila, don't talk like that. You're going to be okay."
She blinked slowly. "Promise me… you won't give up. Not on yourself. Not on him."
I swallowed. "Lila—"
Before I could finish, a nurse entered the room.
"Excuse me. Miss Harper? There's a call for you at the front desk. It's urgent."
I looked back at Lila. She nodded. "Go."
I kissed her forehead and stepped out of the room, nerves buzzing.
Who would call me here?
Was it Damon?
I reached the desk and picked up the phone.
"Hello?"
But the voice on the other end wasn't Damon.
It was cold. Familiar.
"I warned you to stay away from him."
My blood turned to ice.
"Celeste," I whispered.
"You should've died when I had the chance," she said.