Chapter 13 Breaking Free
Aria’s POV
I stared at Aiden’s name on my phone screen for a long moment before answering. “Hello?”
“My grandmother moved up the timeline.” His deep voice came through without preamble, straight to business
as usual.
“What do you mean?” I asked, pulling myself together and wiping away the last traces of my tears.
“She’s arriving in two days instead of next week.” There was a slight edge of frustration in his tone.
I sat up straighter. “What!?”
“Two days from now. You’ll need to move your things into our home before then.”
“Two days?” I repeated, momentarily stunned. That hardly gave me any time at all. “That’s… very sudden.”
“I understand the inconvenience,” Aiden replied, his tone softening slightly. “But my grandmother is quite… determined once she makes up her mind. If she arrives and finds you’re not properly moved in, she’ll immediately suspect something isn’t right with our marriage.”
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. This arrangement was becoming more complicated by the hour.” Alright. I’ll make it happen.”
“I’ve already instructed Lucas to help with whatever you need. He’ll coordinate the moving team.”
“Thank you,” I said quietly, then hesitated before adding, “About my father… I hope he hasn’t been giving you any trouble about our sudden marriage. If he has, please tell me. I can talk to him.”
I understood my father’s protective instincts, especially after everything that had happened with Liam. The last thing I wanted was to create more problems for Aiden when this arrangement was already complicated enough.
“Mrs. Carter is overthinking things,” Aiden replied, his voice carrying an unexpected hint of amusement.
I felt heat rise to my cheeks. Mrs. Carter. The title still felt foreign, almost absurd when spoken aloud.
“Right. I guess I am,” I mumbled.
I’d expected Aiden to be… different somehow. Colder. More calculating. But there was something about him that didn’t quite match the ruthless reputation that preceded him.
Not that it mattered. This marriage had an expiration date, after all.
“I’ll see you soon,” he said before ending the call.
After hanging up, I sat back on my bed, my mind wandering to another house-Liam and I were supposed to share after our wedding.
The three-story villa in Highland Park was worth nearly twenty million dollars. While the White family had purchased it outright, I had personally funded and overseen all the interior design and furnishings. Everything from the custom marble countertops to the hand-carved mahogany bookshelves had been selected by me, a labor of love that had taken months to perfect.
I still needed to address it.
I reached for my phone again, this time dialing my lawyer-to formally sign over my share of the property to
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Liam.I wanted nothing from him or his family. Not a penny, not a memory.
That afternoon, I stood in the sprawling 6,000-square-foot space for the last time. The moving crew I’d hired worked efficiently around me, carefully packing up everything I had personally purchased. The crystal chandelier in the dining room. The custom sofa in the living room. The king-sized bed we’d never shared.
I started my final walkthrough in the grand foyer with its soaring ceilings and sweeping staircase. The crystal chandelier I’d selected in Italy was already being carefully dismantled by workers. I remembered how excited I’d been installing it, imagining how it would cast rainbows across the marble floor on sunny mornings.
Moving into the living room, I ran my fingers along the custom sofa-a piece I’d designed myself, with the perfect depth for curling up with a book. In this space, I had envisioned lazy Sunday afternoons, Liam and I reading side by side, comfortable in shared silence.
The dining room was next, with its long table that could seat twenty. I’d pictured holiday dinners here, surrounded by family and friends, laughter echoing off the walls. Now, it stood empty, the table already wrapped and loaded onto one of the waiting trucks.
I climbed the stairs slowly, each step heavier than the last. Down the hall was a smaller room-one I’d never shown Liam. In my mind, I’d already designated it as a nursery. I’d spent hours imagining soft yellow walls, a white crib, stuffed animals arranged just so. A dream within a dream, never to be realized.
When I finally reached what should have been our bedroom, my eyes fell on the framed engagement photos lining one wall. Photos of us laughing, kissing, looking at each other with what I’d believed was love.
Something snapped inside me.
I walked to the kitchen, grabbed the largest knife I could find, and returned to the bedroom. Without hesitation, I slashed through the first photo, the blade cutting through glass, paper, and drywall. The crash of the frame hitting the floor was deafening in the empty room.
I moved to the next one. And the next. And the next.
By the time I’d finished, my arms ached and I was breathing heavily, surrounded by shattered glass and ruined photographs. The wall looked like it had been attacked by a wild animal.
And I felt… lighter. Free.
When the last piece of furniture was loaded onto the trucks, I took one final walk through what was now just an empty shell again.
Outside, I handed the keys to a courier service with instructions to deliver them to Liam’s office.
Barely an hour after I’d returned home, my phone rang with an unfamiliar number.
“Hello?”
“Aria? It’s Liam.”
My blood turned to ice at the sound of his voice.
“I’m using Jacob’s phone because you’ve blocked mine. Please don’t hang up-”
I ended the call immediately, my heart pounding. The audacity of that man never ceased to amaze me.
My phone immediately rang again. Same number. I declined it.
A text came through seconds later:
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“Please, just five minutes. I need to talk to you about the house.”
I typed back quickly:
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“Whatever you have to say can wait until dinner tonight with our families. Don’t contact me again before then.”
I blocked Jacob’s number too, for good measure.
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