Aria POV
The breakfast meeting was at seven AM in the hotel's private dining room.
I arrived at six forty-five, because I was never late.
Six other CEOs were already there, including Martin Ross from Ross Industries and Jennifer Park from Park Enterprises. They were all power players, all of them.
And at the head of the table, because of course he was, sat Damien Blackwood.
Our eyes met across the room.
I felt nothing. I'd made sure of that.
"Ms. Monroe." Martin stood, extending his hand with genuine warmth in his eyes. "We're honored you could join us."
I shook it, my smile professional. "Mr. Ross. Thank you for the invitation."
I took the seat at the opposite end of the table from Damien. As far away as possible while still being in the same room.
He watched me the entire time, his gaze heavy and unrelenting.
The waiter poured coffee with practiced silence. I took mine black, the same way I took my revenge.
Jennifer opened her tablet with a crisp tap of perfectly manicured nails. "Let's get started. The Riverside Development deal."
"Is off the table," I interrupted smoothly, my voice carrying just enough edge to cut through her sentence. "Monroe Global acquired it yesterday evening."
Martin's eyebrows rose in genuine surprise. "I was under the impression Blackwood Enterprises."
"Was too slow," I finished, meeting Damien's gaze across the table with a challenge. "The development firm wanted innovation and speed. We offered both."
Damien's jaw tightened visibly, a muscle jumping beneath his skin, but his voice remained controlled when he spoke. "That was our deal, Ms. Monroe."
"Correction." I smiled sharply. "It was available to the highest bidder. I simply bid smarter."
Jennifer looked between us, clearly sensing the tension. "Well. Congratulations, Ms. Monroe."
The meeting continued, but I felt Damien's eyes on me constantly, burning into my skin.
Discussions about market shares. Potential partnerships. Competition strategies.
Every time he tried to speak to me directly, I redirected to someone else.
"Ms. Monroe, perhaps Blackwood and Monroe Global could." Martin began tentatively.
"I prefer to keep my company independent, Mr. Ross." I didn't even look at Damien, keeping my attention fixed on Martin's confused face. "We're not interested in partnerships at this time."
After an hour, people started leaving for other meetings, gathering their things with rustling papers and quiet farewells.
Damien stood as I gathered my things with deliberate slowness.
"Aria." His voice was rough with emotion. "Please. We need to talk."
I looked up at him, my expression. "About what, Mr. Blackwood?"
"Don't." He moved closer, and I saw the shadows under his eyes. "Don't pretend you don't know me."
"But I don't." I stood, meeting his gaze steadily without flinching. "I knew a man named Damien Blackwood once. Briefly. He was cruel and cold and not worth remembering." I adjusted my bag on my shoulder with practiced ease. "You might share his name, but that doesn't make you important to me."
His face went pale, the color draining. "Aria, I know I hurt you"
"Hurt me?" I laughed, and the sound was hollow. "You didn't hurt me, Mr. Blackwood. You freed me. I should probably thank you."
"I was wrong." The words came out rough against his throat. "About everything. Your family lied, and I believed them, and I."
"Made your choice." I finished. "And I made mine. I chose to survive. To build something better." I stepped past him toward the door, my heels clicking against marble. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have actual business to attend to."
"Please." His hand caught my wrist, gentle but desperate, his fingers trembling slightly. "Just give me five minutes."
I looked down at his hand, then back up at his face.
For a moment, I saw the old Aria. The one who'd loved him despite everything. Who'd hoped he might someday look at her the way he was looking now.
Then I remembered the way he threw me out. The way he'd looked at me like I was trash.
I pulled my wrist free with a sharp jerk. "I don't do business with has-beens, Mr. Blackwood. Monroe Global is moving forward. You're welcome to stay in the past where you belong."
I walked out without looking back, my spine rigid with control.
My hands were shaking.
I made it to the elevator before the emotions hit. Anger. Satisfaction. Something that felt dangerously like grief threatening to split me open.
The doors opened with a soft chime as I stepped in.
And someone stepped in with me.
"That was brutal," a male voice said, impressed and slightly amused.
I turned sharply. A man in his thirties, handsome in an approachable way, with brown hair and warm green eyes. I'd seen him at the summit yesterday.
"Excuse me?" I kept my voice cool
He smiled, extending his hand with easy confidence. "Lucas Hayes. Hayes Technologies."
Recognition clicked into place. "The self-made billionaire."
"Former self-made millionaire," he corrected with a grin that crinkled the corners of his eyes. "The billionaire part is new." His handshake was firm. "I've been following Monroe Global's rise. You're impressive."
"Thank you." I studied him, suspicious of the compliment and looking for the angle.
"That wasn't flattery." Lucas leaned against the elevator wall as we descended, relaxed and genuine. "Your market strategy is brilliant. The way you outmaneuvered Blackwood on Riverside? Genius."
Despite myself, I felt a small smile tugging at my lips. "You watched that?"
"I watched your entire presentation yesterday." His eyes were amused. "And I'd like to discuss a potential partnership."
The elevator stopped at the lobby with a gentle bump. The doors opened.
I hesitated, weighing my options. "Mr. Hayes"
"Lucas." He held out his hand, gesturing for me to exit first with old-fashioned courtesy. "And I'm serious. Hayes Technologies is expanding into international markets. Monroe Global has the connections we need."
I walked into the lobby, and he fell into step beside me with easy grace.
"I don't do partnerships," I said firmly.
"You don't do partnerships with Blackwood," Lucas corrected with a knowing look. "There's a difference." He pulled out his phone, tapped something with quick fingers, and showed me the screen. "Here's my initial proposal. Look it over. If you're interested, have dinner with me tonight. Business only."
I looked at the proposal, scanning through it. It was actually good with Fair terms.
"I'll think about it," I said.
"That's all I ask." He grinned, and there was something genuinely warm about it. "Seven PM? The restaurant at the Grand?"
Before I could answer, I saw Damien across the lobby.
He was watching us, his face thunderous as his hands clenched at his sides.
Lucas followed my gaze and chuckled, low and knowing. "Ah. The ex-husband?"
"You know about that?" I turned to him sharply, tension snapping through my shoulders.
"I know everything about potential business partners." Lucas's expression turned serious, his smile fading. "Including that Damien Blackwood threw away the best thing that ever happened to him."
Something in my chest twisted painfully.
Lucas touched my elbow gently, his hand warm through my jacket sleeve. "Seven PM, Aria. Think about it."
He walked away, leaving me standing in the lobby, his cologne lingering in the air.
I looked back at Damien.
He was striding toward me.
My phone buzzed in my hand. Lucas had sent his contact info with a simple message: Looking forward to it.
I made a split-second decision, driven by spite and something deeper.
I typed back: See you at seven.
Then I looked up at Damien, who'd almost reached me, breathing slightly hard.
"Ms. Monroe" he started, reaching out.
"I have a meeting," I said, brushing past him.
"Aria, please" His voice cracked on my name.
"My name is Ms. Monroe, Mr. Blackwood." I turned back, my smile cold. "And I'd appreciate it if you'd respect that boundary."
His face crumbled for just a second, raw pain flashing across his features.
Then the ice king mask was back, snapping into place.
"Of course." His voice was formal. "My apologies, Ms. Monroe."
I walked away, feeling his eyes on my back the entire time, burning through my carefully constructed walls.
Outside, the morning air was crisp and sharp. My driver waited with the car, standing at attention.
I slid into the back seat, finally alone, and let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding.
My phone buzzed again with an insistent vibration. Damien's name appeared on the screen.
We need to talk about the past.
I stared at the message for a long moment, my thumb hovering over the screen.
Then I typed: The past? You're not even a footnote in my story anymore.
I hit send with more force than necessary.
Immediately, three dots appeared. He was typing, probably frantically.
I turned off my phone with a decisive click.
"Where to, Ms. Monroe?" my driver asked, glancing at me in the rearview mirror with concern.
"The office," I said, my voice steady despite the trembling in my hands. "I have work to do."
As we pulled away from the hotel, I caught one last glimpse of Damien standing in the entrance, framed by the grand doorway.
He looked destroyed. Hollow. Like I'd carved something vital out of his chest.
Good.
Let him feel what I felt. Let him know what it's like to be dismissed, discarded, treated like nothing.
But as the car turned the corner and he disappeared from view, I pressed my hand against my stomach.