HEADLINES AND HEADACHES
1255 Words
Aria's POV
When I woke up the next morning, my skull felt like it had been used as a drum by an overly enthusiastic toddler. The sunlight slanted through my curtains like a personal attack, and my mouth was so dry it felt like I'd swallowed sandpaper.
What did I even drink last night? I rubbed my eyes, groaning as the memories sloshed around in my head, sluggish and incomplete. I remembered laughing, mocking those pretentious guests with… oh, God. Him.
I sat up too fast and the room spun. "Ugh," I muttered, pressing my palms to my temples. Who thought heels and champagne were a good combination? Oh right—me.
By the time I'd dragged myself into the bathroom and splashed water on my face, I almost felt human again. Almost. My reflection stared back at me—hair a bird's nest, mascara smudged just enough to scream walk of shame, even though I hadn't done anything. Not really.
"Okay, Aria," I told my bedraggled reflection. "Pull yourself together."
Ten minutes later, freshened up and dressed in sweatpants and an oversized tee, I padded into the living room. Celeste was exactly where I expected her—sprawled across my couch like she owned it, scrolling on her phone with one leg draped over the armrest.
"Morning, sunshine," she said without looking up, voice dripping with sarcasm. "How's my favorite party crasher?"
I shuffled to the kitchen counter and started making coffee, ignoring her smirk. "Don't start."
"Oh, I've already started," she sang, flipping her phone dramatically. "Who was the guy? Don't give me that 'just some stranger' garbage either. I saw the way you two were laughing. Like—full on cackling in the middle of a room full of statues."
I poured my coffee with the concentration of a surgeon. "We were just making fun of people. It wasn't a thing."
Celeste gasped theatrically. "Wasn't a thing? Aria, I haven't seen you look that entertained since that one time we caught Mrs. Layton's poodle wearing Crocs. Spill."
"Nothing to spill," I said, carrying my mug over to the couch.
"Uh-huh." She twisted around to face me, eyes glinting with mischief. "Let me guess. Tall, dark, and smirky? Smelled like money and trouble?"
I took a long sip of coffee instead of answering.
Celeste pounced. "Oh my God, it's true. Who was he?"
"Celeste—"
"Tell meeeeee."
"Drop it."
"Not until you tell me!"
"Celeste—"
"Aria!"
"Fine!" I slammed my mug down, coffee sloshing dangerously. "It was Damian Cortez."
The name hung in the air like a bad smell. Celeste froze mid-gloat, her mouth dropping open.
"As in—"
"Yes."
"The Cortez family?"
"Yes."
"The same Cortez family your dad would rather eat glass than shake hands with?"
"Yes!" I snapped. "Happy now?"
Celeste blinked at me, stunned into rare silence. "Aria. What. The. Hell."
Before I could defend myself—or explain how I didn't even know who he was at first—my phone rang.
Dad calling.
The pit in my stomach formed instantly, cold and heavy. My father wasn't the type to call just to chat. Not first thing in the morning.
Celeste noticed my face pale. "Hey. Breathe. It could be anything."
"Yeah," I said, though my voice cracked. "Sure. Anything."
I answered, trying to sound casual. "Hi, Dad."
"Aria." His voice was low, tight, and very, very controlled. "Come home. Now."
The line went dead.
My heart thundered. I looked at Celeste, panic clawing at my chest. "Oh no. Oh no no no no no—"
"Aria, calm down," she said, sitting up. "You don't even know what this is about."
I was about to argue when Celeste's eyes went wide, locked on the TV behind me.
"Uh," she said faintly, "I think we do know."
I turned slowly. On the morning news, the anchor's voice was calm and cheery as if she were announcing the weather:
> "In other news, a mysterious encounter between Aria Romano, daughter of Romano Enterprises, and Damian Cortez, heir to Cortez Global, has social media buzzing…"
Footage rolled of me and Damian laughing together at the party, clinking glasses, heads tilted far too close. Then a still shot of us leaving at the same time, though not together.
I felt the blood drain from my face.
Celeste whispered, "Oh… you're screwed."
"Thanks for the pep talk," I muttered, heart hammering.
---
The drive to my parents' house felt like being wheeled into an execution chamber. I parked in the long circular driveway, hands trembling on the steering wheel. Before getting out, I reached for the rosary hanging on my rearview mirror. The cool beads slid through my fingers as I made the sign of the cross.
"Please," I murmured, "let this not be as bad as I think."
But deep down, I knew it would be worse.
The Romano estate loomed like it always did—grand, elegant, suffocating. I stepped inside, heels clicking on the marble, only to find the air colder than usual.
Dad's office door was ajar. I pushed it open.
He was behind his massive desk, the morning light pouring through the windows making his stern expression even harsher. He didn't look up right away, just gestured for me to sit.
"Hi, Dad—" I began.
"Do you have any idea," he interrupted, voice like a blade, "what you've done?"
I swallowed hard. "It's not what it looks like—"
"It looks like my daughter," he said, finally meeting my eyes, "was publicly laughing and drinking with Damian Cortez. And now, our family name is being torn apart online."
"I didn't know who he was at first!" I blurted out. "I swear!"
"Aria, this isn't about you knowing or not knowing," Dad said, voice rising. "This is about carelessness. Callousness. Do you have any idea how investors see this? Romano Enterprises is not some social experiment for your amusement. Every move you make reflects on this family."
I winced, guilt twisting in my gut.
"I wasn't—"
"You weren't thinking," he said sharply. "And now, every headline is questioning our stability. No investor wants to pour millions into a business embroiled in scandal. Especially this scandal—an affair with the rival's son?!"
"It's not an affair!" I said, heat flooding my cheeks. "I don't even like him!"
Dad exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "This is not about whether you like him, Aria. This is about perception. And perception," he said, looking up at me, "is everything."
My heart pounded. "Okay, okay, I get it! What do you want me to do?"
"There will be precautions," Dad said firmly. "And consequences."
Fear spiked through me. "Like… what kind of consequences?"
He didn't answer immediately. His silence was worse than yelling. I started rambling, desperate to fill it.
"Dad, if this is about money, I'll—I'll sell stuff. My car, my jewelry, my—"
His eyes narrowed. "Is this a joke to you?"
I froze. "No! I'm just saying—"
"Leave my office," he said, voice low but cutting. "Your punishment will be relayed to you in due time."
I opened my mouth to argue, but one look at his face shut me right up.
"Now, Aria."
I stood, legs shaky, throat tight, and walked out.
Behind me, the door shut with a soft but final click, and I had the horrible feeling my life was about to change in ways I couldn't even imagine.
- Writer
