Bound by One Night

Sunlight did nothing to lift the heavy tension in the house that morning. Aria stood at the kitchen counter stirring a cup of tea, her eyes puffy from a sleepless, tearful night. Noah munched his toast at the island, chattering about preschool while oblivious to the strained silence between his parents.

Damien sat at the table in a crisp shirt, supposedly reading the business section of the newspaper, though his eyes never moved down the page. He hadn't said more than a distant "Good morning" to Aria since they woke, and even that hadn't reached his eyes.

"Daddy, can you come to my art show at school next week?" Noah piped up suddenly, breaking the silence.

Damien lowered the paper and mustered a small smile for his son. "Of course, buddy. I wouldn't miss it."

Noah beamed, but after a moment his bright smile faded. He glanced between Damien and Aria with a little frown. "Are you mad at Mommy?" he asked innocently.

Aria nearly dropped her spoon. "No, sweetheart—" she began hurriedly.

Damien's face softened in instant guilt. He reached over and ruffled Noah's curls. "Of course not, pal," he said gently. "Mommy and Daddy just have a lot on our minds right now."

Noah studied them, then nodded solemnly and returned to his cereal. Aria dared a glance at Damien. His gray eyes met hers fleetingly over his coffee cup, and she thought she saw regret there. It almost undid her. If Noah hadn't been right there, she might have broken down.

Damien cleared his throat and stood. "I have to get to the office," he said, checking his watch. He bent to kiss Noah's hair. "Be good for Mommy. I'll see you tonight."

Noah threw his arms around Damien's neck. "Love you, Daddy."

Damien gave him a squeeze, then straightened. His gaze flickered to Aria and lingered, as if he wanted to say something. But he only nodded stiffly and walked out.

Aria released a breath she'd been holding. Her hands trembled against the countertop. She felt Noah's curious eyes on her and managed a wobbly smile. "Finish your toast, honey. We have to get you ready for school."

Getting Noah dressed and dropped off provided a brief distraction. But once he scampered into his classroom with his backpack bouncing, Aria was left alone with her thoughts—and the ache in her heart.

By mid-morning, she had replayed last night's fight over and over, scrutinizing every word and expression. Damien's devastated face haunted her. She had to make it right somehow. He deserved the truth—all of it—and he needed to know how much he meant to her.

As she drove home from Noah's preschool, Aria made a decision. She wouldn't wait for tonight. Damien said he'd be at the office; perhaps if she went to see him, away from the weight of last night's emotions, they could finally talk calmly. She would explain everything—Victor, her past, every secret—and beg his forgiveness.

And if he wanted nothing to do with her after that... Aria's throat constricted. No. She had to try.

Summoning her resolve, Aria went home to collect a few things. She prepared his favorite lunch—a thermos of tomato bisque, two smoked turkey sandwiches, and a slice of the chef's lemon cake. It was a simple gesture, but one she hoped carried all the feelings she couldn't yet put into words.

By noon, Aria arrived at Blackwood Tower with a picnic basket in hand. Balancing the basket on her hip, she smoothed her teal wrap dress and took a steadying breath. She'd called ahead; Damien's assistant cheerfully said he was free for an early lunch.

Aria made her way to Damien's office on the executive floor. The young assistant greeted her with a knowing smile. "Go right in, Mrs. Blackwood."

Heart thudding, Aria gently pushed open one of the double doors to Damien's office. "Damien, I was hoping we could—" she began.

She stopped short just inside the threshold. Damien wasn't alone. Standing close beside him near his desk was a statuesque blonde woman in an ivory blazer—Veronica Hale. Aria recognized her at once; she'd met the socialite briefly at the engagement party.

Veronica was leaning in, one manicured hand resting on Damien's forearm as she laughed at something he'd said. Both of them turned at Aria's entrance. Damien's eyes widened in surprise. Veronica, however, arched a perfectly shaped brow and let a slow, satisfied smile curve her lips.

"Aria," Damien said, recovering first. He stepped forward, subtly extracting his arm from Veronica's touch. "What are you—"

"I didn't realize you had company," Aria managed. Her voice sounded thin in her own ears as she took in the scene—Damien's former acquaintance touching him far too familiarly, her own hopeful picnic basket suddenly feeling foolish on her arm.

Veronica's smile widened. "Oh, I'm not company, darling," she chimed sweetly. "Damien and I go way back." She glided forward, hand outstretched. "Veronica Hale. We met at your engagement party, if I recall. Lovely to see you again."

Aria forced herself to accept the handshake without flinching. Veronica's grip was cool and overly firm, her blue eyes dancing with curiosity and thinly veiled delight at Aria's obvious discomfort. "Yes... I remember," Aria murmured, withdrawing her hand as soon as politeness allowed.

Damien cleared his throat, stepping closer to Aria. "Veronica stopped by to discuss a potential charity gala collaboration," he explained in a careful tone. "It was a last-minute thing."

"Last-minute, indeed," Veronica purred. Her gaze flicked to the basket on Aria's arm. "I hope we're not interrupting a plan?"

Heat flooded Aria's cheeks. She suddenly felt very small, standing there with her lovingly prepared lunch while this glamorous woman draped herself in confidence next to her husband. "I—I'm sorry. I should have called first."

Damien frowned, taking another step toward Aria. "It's alright. I'm glad you came."

Veronica gave a light, tinkling laugh. "How sweet. Well, I won't intrude on a marital moment." She picked up her designer handbag from Damien's desk. "Damien, let's continue our discussion later, hmm? Lunch next week?"

Aria's stomach twisted as Veronica casually placed a hand on Damien's shoulder. He offered a polite, noncommittal smile and gently removed her hand. "I'll have my assistant arrange something," he said coolly.

"Perfect." Veronica cast Aria a final polished, insincere smile. "Take care, dear. You look positively pale—do get some rest." With that thinly veiled jab, she turned and swanned out of the office.

The door clicked shut, leaving strained silence behind. Aria stood rigidly, humiliation and hurt warring in her chest. She hadn't missed the subtext in Veronica's parting shot or the proprietary way the woman had touched Damien. Clearly, Veronica had noticed cracks in the marriage and couldn't resist poking at them. Judging by how unsteady Aria felt, it had worked.

"Aria—" Damien began softly, stepping toward her.

She couldn't do this—not here, not with jealousy now added on top of everything else. Aria took a shaky step back and set the picnic basket on a side table. Her hand was far from steady. "I shouldn't have dropped in unannounced," she said, voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry."

Damien's brows drew together. "You have nothing to apologize for. Veronica just showed up—"

"It's fine," Aria lied, eyes dropping to the floor. Hot tears pricked, but she refused to let them fall. "I only wanted to... to talk. But it can wait. I'll let you get back to work."

She turned, desperate to escape before the dam of emotion burst. But Damien closed the distance swiftly and gently caught her by the arm. "Wait," he said, concern in his voice. "Please don't go like this. We do need to talk."

At his touch, Aria had to bite her lip to hold back a sob. She wanted nothing more than to collapse against his chest and spill every secret and fear—to let him soothe away the anguish of the last twenty-four hours. But now, on top of guilt and anxiety, the image of Veronica's manicured hand on his arm seared in her mind. It felt like one more sign that she was truly losing him.

"Not here," Aria managed, keeping her gaze averted so he wouldn't see the tears brimming. "Tonight, at home. Please?"

Damien's hand slid down to hers, squeezing gently. "Alright. Tonight."

His willingness to agree without argument somehow made it hurt more. She gave a faint nod and gently pulled her fingers from his warm grasp. Without trusting herself to say more, Aria turned and hurried out of his office.

She barely made it into the elevator before a tear escaped—then another. By the time the doors mercifully closed, she was shaking with silent sobs.

It had taken all her courage to come here and try to fix things, and instead she'd walked straight into Veronica's arms practically around Damien. It was as if fate was mocking her, pointing out how easily someone else could slip into her place.

On the ride down, Aria pressed her hand to her mouth, smothering the cries threatening to break free. This was all her fault. If she hadn't lied and kept secrets, Damien wouldn't be pulling away, and vultures like Veronica wouldn't sense weakness to exploit.

Outside, the city bustled with lunchtime crowds. Aria stepped onto the sidewalk in a daze. Her phone buzzed in her purse, startling her. Sniffling, she dug it out, half-hoping for a message from Damien.

It wasn't Damien.

Her blood went cold as she read the text on the screen:

3 days down, 4 to go.

No doubt who it was from. Victor's taunt was brief and cutting.

Aria stared at the message, a new wave of despair crashing over her. In all the turmoil with Damien, she'd almost forgotten—Victor's clock was still ticking. Seven days had become four.

Clutching the phone, Aria closed her eyes amid the swirl of passing office workers. She had never felt more overwhelmed or alone.

She had four days to save her marriage, protect her child, and outmaneuver a man bent on her ruin.

A single tear traced down Aria's cheek. She drew a shaky breath, squared her shoulders, and walked on.

Somehow, she would find the strength to do it. She had to.

Because the alternative was unthinkable.