Chapter 33
Aria’s POV
I woke up to my phone buzzing on the nightstand. Grabbing it with sleepy fingers, my heart skipped when I saw Aiden’s message:
Coming home tomorrow?
Three simple words that somehow made everything inside me flutter. I stared at the screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard. What should I say? Was I ready to go back after our fight?
I stared at the message, typing and deleting responses for fifteen minutes before finally calling Lillian.
“What would you do?” I asked without bothering with a greeting.
“Wait, slow down. What are we talking about?” Lillian’s voice was thick with sleep.
“Aiden texted me. He wants to know if I’m coming home tomorrow p>
“Oh?” Now she sounded fully awake. “What did you say p>
“Nothing yet! That’s why I’m calling you at—” I glanced at the clock, “-six in the morning p>
Lillian laughed. “Make him sweat a little. Don’t answer right away p>
“But what if he thinks p>
“Trust me,” Lillian cut me off. “Let him wonder. You rushed back last time after your fight, and look how that ended. Besides, don’t you have that recording session with Julian Hayes today? Focus on that first p>
She was right. Today marked my first real venture back into the world since the wedding disaster. For weeks, the only people I’d seen were my father, Lillian, my nominal husband Aiden, and his grandmother. The thought of actually working again -doing something I loved-felt both terrifying and exhilarating.
I spent extra time getting ready, selecting a vintage Chanel dress that hugged my figure just right. When I emerged from my room, Dad looked up from his newspaper, a smile spreading across his face.
“Well, don’t you look lovely,” he said softly. “I’ve missed seeing that spark in your eyes. The studio today p>
I nodded, pouring myself another coffee. “Julian Hayes needs his piano tracks recorded. Shouldn’t take more than a few hours p>
“It’s good,” he said, “seeing you getting back to your music p>
The drive to Ellis Records filled me with a nervousness I hadn’t felt in years. Was I really ready to face people again? Would they be whispering about my scandalous wedding? The tabloids had eventually moved on to fresher gossip, but in this industry, people had long memories.
Sure enough, the moment I stepped into the lobby, I felt eyes flick toward me— subtle but unmistakable. And as we walked down the hall toward the front desk, I caught the unmistakable whisper trailing behind us:
“Isn’t she the one whose fiancé ran out on the wedding p>
I squared my shoulders. This was exactly what I’d been dreading—but I refused to
let it define me. Today wasn’t about Liam, or Aiden, or a wedding that never
happened. Today was about the music-the one thing that had always been constant in my chaotic life.
I left the whispers behind me.
“I’m here to see Julian Hayes,” I told the receptionist. “I’m Aria Jo—” I caught myself, then cleared my throat. “-Carter. We have a recording session scheduled p>
She nodded, typing something into her computer. “Mr. Hayes is on the fifteenth floor, Studio C. You can head right up p>
I thanked her quietly and made my way to the elevator.
The doors slid open on the fifteenth floor, revealing a sleek corridor lined with framed platinum records. The air was crisp, cool, and smelled faintly of coffee and studio-grade soundproofing.
I turned the corner-and nearly collided with a frantic-looking man in a designer suit, juggling a tablet.
“Watch it!” he snapped, before giving me a suspicious once-over. “Are you lost?” “I’m looking for Studio C,” I explained. “I’m recording with Julian Hayes today p>
His eyes narrowed. “Another obsessed fan? How did you even get past security? Do you know how many girls try this exact story every week p>
“Excuse me?” I blinked, taken aback by his hostility. “I’m not a fan—well, I mean, I appreciate his music, but I’m the pianist he hired for his new album p>
“Right,” he scoffed, pulling out his phone. “I’m calling security p>
“That won’t be necessary, Mark,” a familiar voice called from down the hall. Julian Hayes walked toward us, coffee in hand, his signature charismatic smile in place. “Aria’s exactly who she says she is.” He turned to me, eyes warm with recognition. “You look amazing. It’s been too long p>
“Mark,this is Aria Jones, last year’s International Leilerna Award winner and the special guest pianist for my new album p>
The manager’s expression changed instantly when he heard Julian’s words. He stepped forward eagerly to greet me: “Miss Jones—oh, I mean, Mrs. Carter. I’m Mark Howard, Julian’s manager! I’ve heard so much about you! When Julian told me he’d invited you to play accompaniment for his album, I thought he was joking. I can’t believe he actually managed to get you here p>
Realizing his earlier rudeness, Mark quickly apologized: “Mrs. Carter, please don’t take offense! Julian has so many obsessed fans, I completely misunderstood the situation p>
“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Howard,” I replied, not bothered by the mix-up.
Seeing I wasn’t upset, Mark visibly relaxed.
Julian gestured toward Studio C. “Shall we? I’ve been looking forward to working with you again p>
Julian held the door open, and I stepped into the studio. Just before it shut behind me, I felt the weight of someone’s stare on my back.
A flicker of unease settled in my chest.