Chapter 198 Would you really be that ruthless with me too?
Aria’s POV
The afternoon sun slanted through the windows of Holt Enterprises as I wrapped up the emergency board meeting.
"Emily, you’re acting CEO effective immediately. Audit every project Ethan touched. Full restructuring within sixty days." I held her amber gaze. "You have full authority. I trust your judgment."
Translation: I’m handing you the power to break free.
Lucas had told me everything after the Gala—how he and Emily were True Mates,and how Alpha Richard Crane had written her inheritance so that the day she took a mate, she’d forfeit every cent of it.
Three years trapped, watching him from a distance while Alpha Richard Crane jerked her around like a puppet.
Now that Damian and I had found each other, I wanted to give them their shot too.
"Understood, Ms. Smith," she said, gratitude flickering behind her composure.
Dusk had painted the skyline purple by the time I left. Employees scattered as I crossed the lobby—some with grudging respect, most with outright fear.
The headlines were already up: Aria Smith: Corporate Ice Queen or Scorned Woman? One called me ruthlessly vindictive.
I told myself I didn’t care what strangers thought.
But I cared what he thought. What if Damian saw those headlines and realized he’d Bonded himself to someone merciless?
Home was quiet, empty. I set my phone on the counter and froze—three missed calls, all from Damian, all from that afternoon.
Guilt hit me like a punch. Three video calls a day, morning, afternoon, night, no exceptions—that had been our deal before he left for the summit. And I’d blown off the afternoon one completely.
I hit call before I could overthink it. Two rings, then his face filled the screen.
"Aria."
Just my name, but the way he said it—low, rough, like he’d been holding his breath—made my heart do a stupid little flip.
"Hey," I said softly, carrying the phone to the stove. "Sorry I missed our call. Things got crazy."
"I noticed." His dark gray eyes tracked me as I filled a pot with water. "You doing okay?"
"Yeah. Just wiped out."
I tore open a package of instant ramen.
His eyebrow lifted. "Ramen? Don’t you have a private chef now?"
"Gave her the week off. Sometimes you just need comfort food."
He leaned back, and I caught a glimpse of the hotel suite behind him—sleek, expensive, soulless.
"How’s the summit going?" I asked, propping the phone against the backsplash.
"Tedious." He rubbed a hand over his face; shadows sat under his eyes. "The European delegation’s posturing about trade corridor rights. They want our shipping lanes without giving equivalent territory access."
"That doesn’t sound fair."
"It’s not. But they’re not thinking about the smaller Packs who’ll get squeezed out." His jaw tightened. "I’ve been pushing back hard. They’re not happy about it."
"Sounds exhausting."
"It is." His gaze softened as he watched me pour ramen into a bowl.
"This was supposed to be historic—first formal alliance between North American and European Packs in generations. Instead it’s just politics and ceremonial bullshit."
I studied the sharp line of his jaw, the tension around his eyes that hadn’t been there this morning. Without thinking, I touched my fingertip to the screen, right over the corner of his eye.
"Get some sleep tonight, okay? Please. You look exhausted."
He stared at me for a long moment, something fierce and possessive flickering across his face.
"If you keep looking at me like that," he said quietly, "I’m going to abandon this summit and get on the next flight home."
Heat flooded my cheeks. "Damian—"
"I mean it. I’ll leave Rick to handle the European Alpha King and be in your bed by midnight."
"You can’t ditch a historic international alliance because you miss me."
"Watch me."
I laughed despite myself. "You’re completely ridiculous."
"And you’re beautiful."
My breath caught. For a few minutes we just talked. I told him about visiting Grandma Grace and Luna Elena, bringing gifts—a cashmere shawl, an imported tea set.
"Wait," Damian interrupted, lips quirking. "You’re still calling her Luna Elena?"
I blinked. "Well—yeah. That’s her title."
"Aria." His voice gentled. "We’re married now. You can call her Mom."
The word felt foreign in my mouth. I’d gone my whole life without a mother who wanted to claim me.
"I don’t know if I’m ready for that yet," I admitted.
"That’s okay. Take your time." He smiled. "So what happened when you gave them the gifts?"
"They kept telling me I had good taste. Wouldn’t stop, honestly—it got a little embarrassing." Something warm bloomed in my chest.
It had been such a small thing, and yet it earned me nearly half an hour of fussing.
I looked down at my bowl, blinking fast. "Grandma cried when I gave her the shawl. First time anyone’s ever been that grateful for something I gave them."
"That’s because of you," Damian said softly. "You’re the reason they love you like that."
I had to look away, my throat tight.
For someone who’d spent most of his life isolated at the top of the Pack hierarchy, Damian had this way of making me feel like the center of his entire universe.
It was terrifying. And addictive.
"So," he said eventually, leaning forward. "Tell me about today. Holt Enterprises?"
I paused, fork halfway to my mouth. The question sounded casual. His eyes weren’t.
"It went smoothly. Almost too smoothly." I set my bowl down. "I walked in, stripped Ethan and his father of everything, restructured the whole executive team, walked out four hours later." I laughed, hollow. "I should probably feel guilty. I don’t. I just feel satisfied."
"Good."
I blinked. "Good?"
"They had it coming, Aria. You know that."
"I know. But—" I stared at my hands, twisting together. "I’m starting to realize I’m the kind of person who holds grudges. Who enjoys watching people who hurt me suffer."
I looked up, searching his face for judgment. There was none.
"You think that makes me ruthless?"
"I think ruthless people don’t question whether they’re ruthless. They just do what they want and justify it afterward."
"That’s not really an answer."
"Fine." He leaned closer, his voice dropping into that low, commanding register that always spiked my pulse.
"If you weren’t Aria Smith—if you weren’t Vincent’s daughter, if you didn’t have the power to fight back—the Holts would’ve destroyed you without a second thought. Bled you dry and thrown you away like trash."
His eyes burned into mine through the screen.
"So no. I don’t think you’re ruthless. I think you’re strong. And strength terrifies people who’ve gotten comfortable with your weakness."
"Even if I’m the most vindictive person alive?"
"Especially then." His lips curved. "I’m hopelessly biased when it comes to you, sweetheart. You’re going to have to deal with it."
I shook my head, smiling despite everything churning inside me. Then, without thinking it through, I blurted,"so if you ever hurt me and I took revenge on you exactly like that — you’d like that?"
"I would."
He said it without missing a beat.
"And if I ever hurt you—" He hesitated, like the question cost him something. "Would you really be that ruthless with me too? That heartless?"