Chapter 178 I wouldn’t take you back,never
Aria’s POV
Originally, I’d planned to save this revelation for later.But plans changed.
Ethan was becoming too much of a pest, following me around like a lost puppy. And besides... I was married to Damian now. There was no point in dragging this out anymore.
The slow revenge I’d been plotting felt unnecessary now. Anticlimactic, even.
And besides, I was married to Damian now. There was no point in drawing out the revenge. Not when I had the Alpha King himself in my corner.
"When did you... how did you..." Ethan’s lips had gone white. All the color, all the life seemed to drain from his eyes in an instant.
He pressed one hand to his chest like he was having a heart attack, his breathing becoming rapid and shallow.
I could practically see the wheels turning in his head, connecting all the dots he’d been too arrogant to notice before.
My sudden coldness. My demand for company shares. The mystery man I’d supposedly been seeing.
It all made sense now, didn’t it?
Then pure terror flickered across his face as the full implications sank in.
I knew what he was thinking—if I went public with this, the scandal would destroy everything. The Holt family’s reputation, the company’s upcoming IPO, his standing in Silver Creek Pack.
Everything he’d built on lies would come crashing down.
I watched dispassionately as his legs seemed to give out. One moment he was standing, the next he’d dropped to his knees in front of me like a penitent sinner.
The sight made my stomach turn.
I’d thought Ethan was many things—a manipulative bastard, a cold calculator, a man who used women as chess pieces in his pathetic power games. But I’d at least credited him with having a spine.
Apparently even that was giving him too much credit.
"Aria, please." His voice cracked. "I was wrong. I was so wrong. I’m sorry—I’m so sorry for everything I put you through."
He was biting down so hard on each word that his jaw muscles visibly strained. Tears actually welled up in his eyes, his whole body language screaming remorse and devastation.
God, he was good. If I hadn’t known better, I might have actually believed the performance.
"Clara and I... yes, we had history," he continued, each word seemingly dragged from his throat. "I made a terrible mistake. I got confused, lost my way. But these past two years with you, Aria—they showed me the truth. You’re irreplaceable. You’re the one I really love. Please, I’m begging you to forgive me. Whatever you need me to do to make this right, I’ll do it. Anything."
The tears spilled over, tracking down his cheeks. His voice had gone hoarse with emotion.
And I laughed.
I couldn’t help it. The sound bubbled up from somewhere deep in my chest—not warm or amused, but cold and sharp as breaking glass.
The effect on Ethan was immediate. He flinched like I’d slapped him, humiliation and anger warring on his face.
"Aria, please." His tone shifted, hardening slightly. "Can’t you forgive me for the sake of everything we had together? All those years we spent building a life—doesn’t that mean anything to you?
If I didn’t truly care about you, would I be on my knees right now? You think leaving the Holt family will make you happy? You think your life will be better?
You’re a woman with no background, no powerful family connections. What man better than me would ever truly want you?"
There it was. The mask slipping. The real Ethan showing through the cracks in his perfect facade.
I felt my lips curve into something that definitely wasn’t a smile.
"Ethan," I said softly, letting ice drip from every syllable, "if every single man on this planet dropped dead tomorrow, I still wouldn’t take you back. Not in this lifetime. Not in the next. Not ever."
Each word was gentle, almost tender. But I could see them landing like physical blows, making him flinch with each one.
His face contorted with something raw and ugly. "You don’t mean that. You’re hurt, I understand—but saying cruel things won’t change our history! You can’t just erase what we had!"
He tried to surge to his feet, probably planning to grab me again. Some men never learn.
The pointed toe of my Louboutin heel connected sharply with his kneecap.
Not hard enough to cause real damage—I wasn’t quite that vindictive—but enough to send him crashing back down, half-kneeling on the concrete garage floor.
Before he could recover, I bent down and grabbed his face, my fingers digging into his jaw hard enough to leave marks.
"Let me make something perfectly clear," I said, my voice dropping to barely above a whisper.
"If you don’t want everyone in this city to know about you and Clara—about the fake marriage, about Marcus, about every disgusting lie you’ve told—then you have three days.
Three days to transfer my rightful share of Holt Industries stock into my name. With interest. Consider it the price for deceiving me for two years of my life."
I watched comprehension dawn in his eyes, followed immediately by panic.
He shoved my hand away and tried to close the distance between us again, no doubt planning another round of his pathetic begging routine.
That’s when I played my trump card.