A fresh morning breeze carried the faint scent of cherry blossoms through the tall glass windows of Aria’s downtown apartment. The city below buzzed, unaware that its balance of power had just shifted overnight. Aria stood barefoot by the edge of her balcony, arms folded, her thoughts a battlefield of pride and pressure.
She had just learned that Jerry’s trust accounts were frozen.
The moment Jerry confirmed it—his tone flat, his eyes stormy—Aria felt the world tilt. Not because of the money, but because of the timing. The press already smelled blood. They didn’t need headlines. They needed chaos.
And Regina had delivered it on a silver platter.
“You shouldn’t have let her back into your life,” Aria muttered.
Jerry, still shirtless from sleep, leaned against the balcony frame. “I
