Chapter 2 What's Mine Stays Mine

Aria I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the cuff of my blouse like I was preparing for a business meeting instead of a war. Because that’s what it was—a war that had been brewing long before tonight. The knock on my door sounded again, sharper this time as if impatience could make me weaker. “Mrs. Blackwell?” the maid called softly. I didn’t turn. “Let her in,” I said evenly, my voice like ice over still water. The door creaked open, and Margaret Blackwell, Brandon’s mother, walked in like she was walking onto a battlefield she thought she’d already won. The sharp click of her heels against the marble floor filled the silence of the room. She looked classy, as always—a tailored Chanel suit hugging her slender frame, pearls gleaming at her throat, her platinum hair pulled back into a perfect chignon. Her eyes flicked over me with her usual disdain, a small smirk playing at her lips like she knew something I didn’t. She made herself comfortable on the leather couch like she owned the place—like this wasn’t still my house, my name on the papers, my initials etched on the foundation. “So,” she began, her voice was smooth but condescending, “I heard about your little scene downstairs.” Little scene? She must be high on something! I kept my arms folded, leaning against the console table, my gaze calm and unreadable. “If you’re here to offer condolences on my divorce, don’t bother. I’m fresh out of sympathy for people who never had any for me.” Her smile was tight. “I’m here to talk about what happens now.” “Now?” I echoed, arching a brow. “Funny. Brad didn’t seem too interested in that part when he walked in here and declared his intentions.” Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she recovered quickly. “As you know,” she began, adjusting her posture as if sitting straighter gave her more power, “with the divorce, everything connected to Blackwell Holdings must return to Brad. The shares you hold, the properties… Surely, you understand those were part of the marriage arrangement.” I let out a soft, humorless laugh, pushing away from the console and walking slowly toward the window, giving her my back. “Is that what Brad told you?” I asked, looking out at the skyline as if the city lights could somehow drain away the bitterness rising in my throat. “You’re smart, Aria. Surely, you know what’s expected.” I turned to face her, leaning one shoulder casually against the window frame. “I know exactly what’s expected. I also know those shares weren’t a gift. They were a calculated business deal to keep your son’s company from collapsing when no one else wanted to touch it.” Her sharp intake of breath was slight but satisfying. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she snapped, but her eyes were wary now. “Ridiculous?” I repeated, taking a slow step toward her. “Tell me, Margaret, would you prefer I pull up the contracts? The ones signed under my alias—the same alias that turned around every project Blackwell Holdings was on the verge of losing?” She rose from her seat sharply, her eyes narrowing into slits. “Don’t test me, girl. You think because you played CEO for a few months that makes you powerful?” I smiled sweetly, but it didn’t reach my eyes. “No. Not a few months, Margaret. A year. While Brad was too busy sleeping with Savannah and neglecting his company, I was sitting in boardrooms saving it. If anything, Blackwell Holdings belongs to me more than him.” Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “You may think you’re clever, but without a husband, without your father to protect you, you’ll have nothing.” A flash of pain shot through me at the mention of my father, but I kept my face blank. “You’re right. My father isn’t here to fight my battles. But guess what?” I took another step toward her, my heels silent against the rug. “I’m perfectly capable of fighting on my own.” She sneered. “You think you’ll survive a war with us?” “I don’t think, Margaret,” I said, my voice now low and cold. “I know.” We stood facing each other in silence. “You’ll regret this,” she hissed, her mask of calm cracking ever so slightly. “Maybe,” I said, shrugging. “But so will you, when you realize I’m not a woman you can intimidate into walking away empty-handed.” She laughed bitterly. “You’re bluffing. You don’t have the nerve to go through with this.” “You think so?” I walked back to the console table, picking up my phone with a smirk. “Then you should probably know—the divorce papers are already being drafted, and so are the documents to secure my shares. Ironclad. And if you try to contest them, I will go public with every single detail of the mess Brad has made.” Her eyes widened. “You wouldn’t.” I met her gaze, calm and sure. “Oh, I would. And I will.” Margaret stared at me for a long moment, as if realizing for the first time that I wasn’t the naïve girl who had married her son out of duty. “You’ll regret this,” she said again, her voice quieter now, but the threat was still there. “Maybe,” I said, walking to the door and holding it open for her. “But it won’t be today.” She glared at me as she gathered her bag and stormed out, her heels pounding like gunshots down the hall. The moment she was gone, I let out a slow breath and locked the door behind her. My hands trembled slightly, but I clenched them into fists until the shaking stopped. I walked to the window again, staring out over the city like I could see the future I was about to carve out for myself. Everything had changed in a single night. They thought they could erase me. They thought they could take everything from me—my shares, my company, my dignity. They were wrong. I picked up my phone and dialed. “Miss Kensington,” my attorney answered on the first ring. “Prepare everything,” I said, pacing the room now, my mind sharp and clear. “The shares, the contracts, the statements. I want everything ready to hit if they so much as breathe in my direction.” “Understood. Anything else?” “Yes,” I said, pausing by the window. “Find out who the board would back if it came down to a vote. I want to know how many allies I have left.” “I’ll get on it.” Just as I ended the call and set my phone down, I heard the door creak open behind me. I turned slowly, my body tensing as Brad strolled into the room like he owned the place—hands in his pockets, that same smug smirk on his face that I had grown to despise. “Well, well,” he drawled, his eyes sweeping over me lazily. “Running off to your little apartment, huh? Guess you don’t have anyone left to run to now.” I didn’t respond; I just watched him silently, my arms folded. He chuckled, shaking his head as he stepped closer, stopping just a few feet away. “You know, Aria, even though I’m divorcing you, I can’t help but feel a little… sorry for you.” I raised a brow, unimpressed. “Sorry for me?” “Yeah,” he said, voice softening like he was doing me a favor. “You’ve got no one. No father, no family to back you up. Just alone in this big apartment, pretending you’re still powerful.” I kept my face blank, but my hands clenched into fists at my sides. “And you know,” he continued, that arrogant glint in his eyes, “I’m a generous man. We could still make something work before the divorce. I could give you a child—” I blinked, stunned by the audacity of his words. “You still want to sleep with me…” I took a step closer, my voice dangerously soft, “When we’re about to get divorced?”