Chapter 107 Someone scratched with my car
Aria’s POV
"Mom, it’s the thought that counts," Ethan interjected, though his frown suggested he agreed with them. "Let’s not—"
"Grandma Rose." I ignored all of them, turning my attention solely to the woman in the bed.
"What I brought isn’t from any corner store. In fact, you couldn’t find these items in a regular store if you tried."
Grandma Rose’s gaze flicked to the bag, and I saw something flicker across her face—embarrassment, maybe, or discomfort. She patted my hand gently.
"It’s alright, dear. It’s the thought that matters. I’m too old to need fancy things anyway." Her smile was kind, indulgent.
"You don’t need to impress anyone here, Aria. Just... come home. Come back to the family, back to the company. That’s all I want."
And there it was.
The thing I’d been too young, too grateful, too desperate to see before.
This wasn’t unconditional love. This was *patronage*. The benevolent matriarch extending grace to the unfortunate girl who’d married her grandson.
I thought about Damian’s parents—the way they’d welcomed me with no expectations, no strings attached.
The way they’d made me feel like I belonged just by existing, not by proving my worth.
*That’s* what family was supposed to feel like.
This? This was something else entirely.
"These aren’t cheap gifts, Grandma Rose," I said evenly, reaching for the bag. "And they weren’t purchased with Holt money."
I pulled out the contents slowly, deliberately. Inside the unassuming plastic was a hand-carved wooden box, aged and elegant, with subtle silver inlay along the edges.
When I opened it, the interior was lined with deep blue velvet.
Nestled inside were several small glass vials filled with amber liquid, each one stoppered with wax seals.
Beside them sat a collection of rare herbs preserved in vacuum-sealed packets—wolf’s bane root, properly treated and aged, mountain ash bark, and several others I’d sourced from specialized apothecaries that catered to wolves with old-world tastes.
"These are genuine healing tonics," I explained, keeping my voice calm.
"The kind that take years to properly brew and age. The base alone is a fifty-year-old botanical extract. "
I gestured to the herbs,"and these are extremely rare. Most of them can’t be cultivated commercially, so they have to be wild-harvested by specialists."
I’d spent weeks tracking these down through Victor’s connections. The kind of gifts that old wolves appreciated—traditional, potent, nearly impossible to find.
"I had them packaged simply because I was in a hurry," I continued. "But if you look at the authentication seals on each vial, you can verify their origin."
Sophie’s jaw had gone slack. She grabbed the box, turning one of the vials over to examine the tiny seal stamped into the wax.
Her face went white.
"This... these are from the Crescent Moon archives," she whispered. "These tonics are—they’re practically priceless. Each vial is worth—"
"About fifty thousand dollars," I finished. "Give or take. There are six vials in total. The herbs run another hundred thousand or so, depending on the market."
Margaret looked like she might faint.
The "garbage" she’d ordered thrown out was worth close to four hundred thousand dollars.
"Aria, where did you get this kind of money?" Ethan’s voice was tight, strained. I could practically see him doing the mental math, calculating how much of "his" money I’d just spent.
He’d given me an allowance over the years, generous by most standards. Probably thought he was being magnanimous.
But I’d never touched it—never spent a cent of Holt money on myself.
Until he thought I had.
"I used my own money," I said coolly. "Is that a problem?"
His jaw worked. "Of course not. I just—you didn’t need to spend so much—"
"I wanted to." I turned back to Grandma Rose, who was staring at the box like it might bite her.
"I know the Holt family doesn’t need anything. This is just my way of showing gratitude for everything you’ve done for me. If you don’t want it, feel free to do whatever you like with it."
Grandma Rose reached for my hand again, but I’d already stepped back, creating space between us.
"Aria, sweetheart, I—" She looked genuinely flustered now, torn between pride and confusion. "This is incredibly generous, but—"
"You should rest, Grandma Rose," I said gently but firmly. "Take care of yourself."
"Aria, wait—" She started to stand, and I saw Ethan move to steady her.
"I really should go," I said, already heading for the door. "I hope you feel better soon."
"Aria! Aria, come back here!" Grandma Rose’s voice rose, edged with panic. "Ethan, don’t just stand there—go after her!"
I didn’t look back.
Didn’t slow down.
By the time I reached the elevator, I could hear footsteps pounding down the hallway behind me. Ethan, probably, running to catch up. The doors slid shut before he could reach me.
My phone buzzed with a notification from my car’s security system—dash cam alert. Someone had been near my car.
When I reached the garage level, I quickly pulled up the footage on my phone.
The timestamp showed someone had approached my car while I was upstairs.
I fast-forwarded through the recording, my blood running cold as I watched a figure rush toward my vehicle with something metallic in hand.
I immediately dialed 911, my hands shaking as I held the phone to my ear.
"911, what’s your emergency?"
"Someone scratched my car," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "I need to report—"
"Aria!"
Ethan’s voice echoed off the concrete walls. I looked up from my phone to see him pushing through the stairwell door, slightly out of breath.
"Aria, please," he said, catching his breath. "We need to talk."