Claimed By My Ex’s Billionaire Father

Aria’s POV Today was supposed to be perfect. I had spent all afternoon preparing a small surprise for Ethan, my boyfriend. Vintage red wine, cheeses, strawberries, even the ridiculous chocolate we once messed up eating together. I wanted tonight to remind him of us, of what we were. The hotel receptionist recognized me when I walked in, offering polite smiles as they handed me the swipe card. “Oh Hi, Ethan Hayes should’ve checked in earlier. Did he?” I said, smiling. The receptionist typed quickly, then smiled politely. “Yes, miss. He arrived about forty minutes ago. Room 809 but he stepped out.” “Thank you,” I said, forcing a smile as I took the card, I was wondering why Ethan had come so early, the date was set for 6pm and it’s just 5.33. I turned toward the elevator, my heart fluttering with anticipation. The ride felt unusually slow, the soft music doing nothing to calm the nervous energy flooding me. When I reached the door, I swiped the card, pushed it open And the world tilted. Clothes everywhere. Harper, my best friend. Ethan, my boyfriend. Together, having s*x. The bag in my hand slipped, nearly falling. The wine felt like a brick that was weighing my hand down. My voice broke before I could stop it. “Are you guys serious?” Harper’s gasp filled the room. “Aria wait! I promise this isn’t what it looks like, I can ex…” “Don’t,” I cut in, voice shaking. Ethan scrambled for his pants. “Aria, listen” “I don’t want to hear anything.” My throat tightened painfully. “We’re done.” I turned and walked out before either of them could take another step toward me. Tears blurred the hallway. My breath hitched, uneven. I didn’t stop walking until I reached the elevator again, stabbing the button with shaking fingers. The doors opened. I stepped in crying, not realizing that someone was inside already until I felt a gaze on me, then I hurriedly wiped my face, but one could still hear my sobbing. He glanced at me once, briefly, like a man who noticed everything but commented on nothing. The elevator doors closed. A moment passed before he spoke, calm, deep, controlled. “Are you hurt?” His tone wasn’t warm, but it wasn’t cold either. Just… direct. Efficient. As if he didn’t do emotional conversations, but wasn’t heartless. “No,” I replied quickly, voice raw. “Just a bad night.” He nodded once, accepting the answer without pushing. He reached into his pocket and held out a handkerchief, clean, white, neatly folded. “Take it.” I hesitated. “I I’m fine.” “You’re crying,” he said simply. “Use it.” Something about the firmness in his voice made me take it without another word. “Thank you.” He gave a slight nod of his head. “You’re welcome.” Silence followed, thick but not uncomfortable. He didn’t ask questions. Didn’t pry. Didn’t even look at me again. It was strangely grounding. The elevator reached the lobby. I stepped out. “Thanks.” He didn’t smile, but his gaze followed me for a split second. “Take care.” His voice, still controlled, held a little bit of concern, almost impossible to detect unless you were listening for it. I walked through the lobby quickly, ignoring the curious looks from guests and staff. The evening air hit me like a slap when I stepped outside. I kept walking, past the lights, the cars, the noise all the way to the bus stop, then down the familiar road toward home. Only then did I notice something, my wrist felt light. I looked down. My bracelet, Ethan’s first anniversary gift was gone. I pressed a shaky hand to my forehead, exhaustion washing over me. I must have dropped it somewhere. “Great. As if tonight couldn’t get any worse.” When I finally got home that evening, the world around me felt like a blur of sound and color. I barely remembered locking the door behind me before the tears started again. My mother, sitting on the couch with a folded piece of fabric in her lap, looked up the moment she saw my face. “Aria?” Her voice sharpened with alarm. “What happened? Did someone hurt you?” I shook my head, but the words wouldn’t come out. My throat felt tight, burning. I dropped the bottle of wine I’d bought for Ethan and I, the red liquid sloshed angrily in the glass and I crumbled into her arms. She caught me instantly. “Hey hey, slow down,” she murmured, holding me as if she could hold me together. “Talk to me, baby. What’s wrong?” But I couldn’t speak yet. I sobbed into her shoulder, the smell of her lavender lotion grounding me even as my whole body trembled with heartbreak. After a few moments she tried again, gentler this time. “Aria, sweetheart… whatever it is, you’re safe now. Just breathe.” I managed to choke out a word. “Ethan…” Her arms stiffened slightly not in shock, but in a way that said she’d suspected this day might come. “What about him?” I swallowed hard. “He… he was with Harper.” My voice cracked. “In the hotel room. Together.” My mom pulled back enough to see my face. “Harper? Harper who comes here every Christmas eating all my cookies? That Harper?” I let out a small, broken laugh through my tears. “Yes. That one.” She muttered something under her breath that definitely wasn’t polite. Then she cupped my cheeks. “Listen to me. You did not deserve that. Not from him. And certainly not from her.” I sagged against her again. “Mom, I feel so stupid.” “No,” she said firmly, brushing away my tears with her thumb. “No, Aria. Being trusting doesn’t make you stupid. It makes them unworthy.” I don’t know how long she held me, I just wanted to sink into her arms forever. My mother smoothed my hair back. “Go lie down, my love. Your heart needs rest as much as your body. I’ll make you something warm when you wake up.” I nodded weakly and went to my room. The scent of my perfume clung to the sheets… and the faint smell of Ethan lingered on the cardigan hanging beside the bed. I turned away quickly, curled up, and cried myself into a heavy sleep. When I woke up, the sky outside was dim. My phone said 8:07 p.m., but it felt like I’d been asleep for half a lifetime. I pushed myself upright, my chest dull with that hollow ache heartbreak leaves behind. When I stepped into the living room, my mom was there again, knitting with slow, steady movements. She looked up and offered me a soft smile. “How are you feeling, darling?” “Tired,” I muttered, sinking beside her. “Exhausted.” She reached over automatically to wipe a tear I didn’t even realize had escaped. “Hey now,” she murmured. “I’ve always known Ethan didn’t seem genuine but you know you shouldn’t keep crying like this.” I snorted weakly. “I can’t help it. Everything just… hurts.” “I know,” she said. “But you can’t let them keep your spirit hostage.” I stared down at my hands. “I just… don’t know how to stop feeling this way.” “Then don’t try to stop it,” she said gently. “Feel it. Process it. But don’t drown in it.” She squeezed my hand. “Find small things to distract yourself.” She glanced toward the coffee table. “Oh,” she added lightly, “someone sent a package for you. It came while you were asleep.” My brows knitted. “For me? Who?” She shrugged. “I didn’t open it. But the man who delivered it looked… like a bouncer, he was huge and wore dark glasses” I blinked. “Bouncer?”