Chapter 92 I was done
Aria’s POV
Images of Damian flashed through my mind—his touch, his heated gaze. I forced the thoughts away and kept my voice steady.
"I bought these with my own money," I continued, my voice calm and steady.
"Money I earned. In the past two years alone, I’ve generated over ten million dollars in profit for Silver Creek Pack. Even if Ethan had given me money—which he hasn’t—it wouldn’t even cover the dividends."
"I’m owed. So unless you want to sit down right now and go through every single project I’ve handled line by line, I suggest you keep your mouth shut."
Ethan’s face went white.
He hated when I brought up the numbers. Because the numbers didn’t lie.
For years, I’d let him take credit for my work. I’d let him stand in front of investors and smile while I did all the heavy lifting behind the scenes.
But I had receipts. Every deal. Every contract. Every dollar.
"Aria, I didn’t mean—" Ethan started, but I cut him off.
"Clara," I said, glancing at the shopping bags scattered on the floor.
"You bought quite a lot today, didn’t you? I’m curious—did Ethan tell me about this little spending spree? Because technically, that’s marital property he’s using. Our marital property."
I emphasized the words deliberately, watching Clara’s face twist with rage.
"You—" Clara snarled, taking a step toward me.
Ethan grabbed the bags off the floor and shoved them into my hands before she could finish.
"Aria, you’ve got it all wrong," he said quickly, his voice tight with panic. "These were for a client. I haven’t bought Clara’s gift yet. If you don’t want me to, I won’t. Clara understands. Right, Clara?"
He shot her a desperate look.
Clara looked like she was about to explode.
I glanced down at the diamond bracelet still glittering on her wrist. "That bracelet’s for a client too?"
"Yes!" Ethan said immediately. "Clara was just trying it on for me. To see if it looked good."
Before Clara could protest, he reached over and unclasped the bracelet, dropping it into one of the bags.
I watched Clara’s face turn an interesting shade of purple.
"Ethan," I said sweetly, "if you’re picking out client gifts, don’t you think it’s a conflict of interest to have Clara—a former employee who just resigned—helping you shop? I’m pretty sure that violates Silver Creek Pack’s ethics policy."
Ethan’s jaw clenched. Sweat beaded on his forehead.
If word of this got back to his father, he’d be finished.
"You’re right," he said through gritted teeth. "I wasn’t thinking. Clara was just being nice. But you’re absolutely right, Aria. Why don’t you pick out the gifts instead?"
He held the bags out to me like a peace offering, his expression pleading.
Clara looked like she was about to cry. Or murder someone. Possibly both.
I took the bags, glanced inside at the overpriced junk Clara had picked out, and handed them to the sales associate who’d helped me earlier.
"These are from my husband," I said with a bright smile. "The taste is... questionable. But they’re yours if you want them."
The associate’s eyes went wide. "Oh, ma’am, I couldn’t possibly—"
"Please," I said. "My husband’s very generous. He gives gifts like this to friends all the time. You saw it yourself, didn’t you?"
She hesitated, then broke into a grin. "Well... thank you so much! This is incredibly kind!"
Ethan looked like he’d swallowed glass.
"Aria," he said tightly, "what are you doing?"
"Helping you, Ethan," I said, my smile widening. "Unless you’d prefer I mention this little shopping trip to your father? I’m sure he’d love to hear how you’re spending company resources."
His jaw worked. He couldn’t say a damn word.
Clara was openly crying now, tears streaming down her face as she turned away, trying to hide.
Ethan glanced at her, clearly torn, but before he could move toward her, I gestured toward the counter.
"Come on," I said. "Let’s pick out something actually worth giving."
The associate, now fully on my side, brought out the premium collection—pieces that made Clara’s picks look like costume jewelry.
She showed me a set of custom turquoise cufflinks, one-of-a-kind, priced at a cool hundred and ninety-eight thousand dollars. The crafting time alone was three months.
"Aria, this is too much," Ethan said, his voice strained. "Can’t we pick something else?"
"You told me to choose," I said without looking up from the iPad the associate had handed me.
"I’m choosing. This brand is used by royalty, Ethan. If you want to impress clients, this is how you do it. Trust me."
The associate jumped in, rattling off the brand’s prestige and history, clearly enjoying watching Ethan squirm.
"Fine," he muttered. "Whatever you want."
He probably thought he could resell them later. Idiot.
But when he finished paying, I pulled out the order form and asked, "So, which client is this for?"
Ethan froze. "I’ll... deliver it myself. More personal that way."
"Oh?" I said, arching an eyebrow. "Which client is worth a personal delivery from the Alpha of Silver Creek Pack?"
His face went pale. "Mr. Kingston," he said finally. "The Kingston account."
I smiled and filled in the client information myself. Kingston was real—a potential partner Ethan had been courting for months with zero success.
"There," I said. "All set."
Ethan looked like he wanted to strangle me.
He pulled me aside the moment the transaction was done, his hand closing around my wrist. "Aria, please. I know I screwed up. Just come home. I’ve got the shares ready—half of Silver Creek Pack is yours. What more do you need?"
"When’s the transfer happening?" I asked, my voice flat.
His jaw tightened. "Whenever you want."
"Next Monday," I said. "I’ll let you know the time."
I started to walk away, but he blocked my path. "Aria, where have you been staying? Are you okay? When are you coming back?"
He actually sounded concerned. It was almost impressive.
"I’m fine," I said coolly. "Better than fine, actually. I like living alone. It’s peaceful. And Clara’s doing such a great job with Marcus—I’d hate to disrupt that. So don’t bother looking for me."
"Don’t say that," Ethan said, his voice dropping. "You know I need you. I’ve missed you."
I was about to respond when a scream cut through the store.
Clara had collapsed.
Ethan’s head whipped around, and in less than a second, he was across the room, shoving people aside to get to her.
"Clara!" he shouted, dropping to his knees and pulling her into his arms.
Her face was deathly pale, her body limp.
He didn’t even glance back at me. Just scooped her up and ran for the parking garage like his life depended on it.
I stood there, watching him go, and felt absolutely nothing.
Ten years together. Six years of lies. And he’d just shown me—again—exactly where I ranked.
I picked up my shopping bag and walked out of the store.
Running into them today had been a waste of time.
But at least now I knew for sure: I was done.