The white plastic strip in Aria’s hand showed two distinct, unflinching red lines.
She stood inside the marble-tiled restroom of the Grand Regency Hotel, the muted bass of live orchestral music vibrating through the floorboards beneath her heels. Her breathing was fast, shallow, and unsteady.
Positive.
Aria slowly reached down, smoothing her hand over her flat stomach. Three years of marriage. Three years of cold dinners, empty master bedrooms, and a husband who treated her more like an inconvenience than a wife. For months, she had quietly hoped that maybe, just maybe a family of their own would give Julian a reason to stop looking through her and finally look at her.
She carefully tucked the test strip into an inner pocket of her clutch, drew a deep, steadying breath, and checked her reflection in the mirror. Her dark hair was pinned up gracefully, and her black silk dress hugged her thin frame. She forced a faint, rehearsed smile into the mirror, pushed open the door, and stepped out into the blinding light of the Vance Enterprise Annual Gala.
The ballroom was packed with the city’s business elite, media figures, and high-society investors. Servants in black vests maneuvered through the crowd carrying trays of champagne, but Aria’s eyes immediately swept the room for one man.
She found him standing near the center stage, bathed in the glow of the overhead crystal chandeliers.
Julian Vance was unmistakable. Tall, broad-shouldered, and striking in a dark, bespoke suit, he exuded an aura of effortless control. Several high-profile board members were gathered around him, listening intently to whatever he was saying.
Aria started walking toward him, her hand instinctively resting near her waist. She didn't expect him to make a scene or throw his arms around her that wasn't Julian. But just for tonight, she wanted to tell him somewhere quiet. She wanted to see if the cold armor he wore around his heart would break, even for a second.
"Julian," she called softly as she approached the circle.
Julian glanced over his shoulder. His dark eyes locked onto hers for a fraction of a second devoid of warmth, devoid of affection.
"Not right now, Aria," he said, his voice flat and practical. "We're discussing the Q3 figures with the board."
"I know, but it's important," she said, taking a small step closer and leaning in so only he could hear. "Can I just have two minutes with you outside?"
Julian sighed, an audible flick of impatience. "I told you, not now. Go sit at the main table. I'll be over when the announcements are finished."
Before Aria could say another word, a woman in an off-the-shoulder crimson gown stepped out from the inner circle, sliding directly into the space next to Julian.
It was Chloe.
Chloe Sterling Julian’s childhood friend, business consultant, and the woman everyone in high society secretly believed Julian should have married instead of Aria. Chloe gave Aria a tight, practiced smile that didn't reach her eyes.
"Aria, sweetie, don't crowd him," Chloe said smoothly, resting her manicured hand lightly on Julian’s forearm. Julian didn't pull away and he didn't even flinch. "Julian has a massive presentation in five minutes. You don't want to distract him right before the press broadcast, do you?"
Aria looked down at Chloe’s hand on her husband’s sleeve. "This is a private matter, Chloe."
"Everything tonight is a company matter," Julian cut in, his tone hardening as he looked down at Aria. "Chloe is managing the art acquisition side of the gala. Go to the table, Aria and stop making a scene."
Aria felt a cold knot form in her chest, but she held her tongue, stepping back slowly as the crowd closed in around them again. She walked toward the side table near the main stage, her fingers gripping the strap of her purse so hard her knuckles turned white.
A minute later, the house lights dimmed slightly, and the main stage speakers chimed to life. Julian stepped up to the podium, flanked by Chloe.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," Julian’s voice resonated through the hall, calm and commanding. "Tonight, Vance Enterprise is proud to announce our expansion into high-end international art curation. To lead this initiative, I am officially handing full operational control of our new gallery branch to Miss Chloe Sterling."
The room erupted into applause. Chloe smiled brightly for the flashing press cameras standing beside Julian.
"Furthermore," Julian continued, raising a hand to quiet the crowd, "to mark this launch, Miss Sterling will be releasing her exclusive flagship collection— a series of contemporary oil masterworks titled The Phoenix Series."
Aria froze. The breath left her lungs all at once.
The Phoenix Series?
Her mind spun. That wasn't Chloe’s collection. That was her work.
For two years, working late into the night in the private studio attached to the Vance estate, Aria had poured every ounce of her heartbreak, her isolation, and her soul into those canvases. She had signed them with a small flame emblem instead of her name, hiding them away in Julian’s private storage vault because she wasn't ready to show the world. Julian was the only person who had the security key to that room.
On the massive digital screens behind the stage, high-definition images of the paintings began to cycle. There was the blue composition of a bird trapped in an iron ribcage. There was the crimson landscape of a burning house.
They were her paintings. Every single one of them.
And right beneath the high-res images, the text credit read: Curated and Created by Chloe Sterling.
The room dissolved into a blur of sound for Aria. She didn't remember walking. She didn't remember pushing past the waiters or the whispering guests. All she knew was that when the applause finally died down, she caught Julian as he stepped off the side of the stage into the private access corridor.
"Julian!" she demanded, her voice shaking violently.
Julian stopped, turning to face her with an irritated brow. "Aria, I told you—"
"You gave her my paintings," Aria rasped out, her eyes burning with unshed tears. "You took The Phoenix Series out of the vault and gave it to Chloe?"
Julian stared at her, entirely unbothered by her distress. "Keep your voice down."
"Answer me!" Aria choked out, stepping up to him. "Those paintings are mine! I spent two years on them! How could you let her put her name on my work?"
"Because your name carries zero weight in the art world," Julian replied coldly, leaning down slightly so his voice stayed low. "Chloe needs a high-profile launch to secure the European buyers. Placing her name on that collection guarantees a thirty-percent markup at auction. It's a strategic corporate move."
"A corporate move?" Aria stared at him, stunned. "It's theft, Julian! It’s my life! I painted those when I was sitting alone in that empty house waiting for you to come home!"
"You painted them in my house, using my materials, while living on my bank account," Julian snapped back smoothly, adjusting his cufflinks. "Under your prenuptial agreement, any artistic assets produced on the estate are legally managed by Vance Enterprise. I own the rights, Aria and I decide where they go."
Aria felt as though she had been struck across the face. The silence between them stretched out, heavy and suffocating.
"You own the rights," she repeated, her voice dropping to a hollow whisper.
"Yes," Julian said, his eyes hard and unyielding. "You're my wife, Aria. You have a luxury car, an unlimited credit card, and a home most people dream of. Stop acting like a martyr over a few canvases. Chloe earned this launch."
He didn't wait for her reply. He simply turned around, adjusted his suit jacket, and walked back out into the main hall toward Chloe, who was waiting for him with two glasses of champagne.
Aria stood alone in the quiet corridor, surrounded by the faint scent of Julian’s expensive cologne.
Slowly, her hand drifted back to her clutch. She felt the outline of the plastic strip inside.
She looked at the exit doors at the far end of the hallway. The illusion was over. There was no love here and there was no marriage. There was only a golden cage, and a man who viewed her as nothing more than an obedient piece of property he could trade away to make his true favorite look good.
A strange, quiet calm settled over Aria’s breaking heart. The tears stopped. The trembling in her hands ceased.
She looked toward the ballroom one last time, watching Julian laugh at a joke Chloe made.
"You own the rights to the house, Julian," Aria whispered to the empty hallway, her voice steady and resolute. "But you will never, ever own my children."
She turned her back on the ballroom, pulled out her phone, and dialed a private number.
"Marcus?" Aria said as soon as the line connected. "It's time. I'm leaving tonight."