Chapter 34
Aria’s POV
I stood outside Nova Enterprises with Emily, my assistant, staring up at the modest three-story building in the industrial district.
“This is it?” Emily asked, doubt clear in her voice.
“Yep.” I grabbed my briefcase and climbed out.
“Six months without funding. Three failed partnership attempts. And a team that probably resents me before I even walk through the door p>
“Sounds fun,” Emily said dryly.
The inside of Nova Enterprises matched the exterior—dated furniture, flickering fluorescent lights, and an atmosphere of quiet desperation.
The receptionist barely looked up when we entered.
“We’re here to see the department heads,” I told her. “Aria Smith from Smith Group p>
She pointed down a narrow hallway. “Conference room B. They’re waiting p>
Emily and I exchanged a look. Waiting. That didn’t sound promising.
The conference room held five people—three men, two women, all wearing expressions ranging from skeptical to openly hostile. Nobody stood when I entered. Nobody offered to shake my hand.
“Good morning,” I said, setting my briefcase on the table. “I’m Aria Smith. I’ll be overseeing Nova’s restructuring and the new partnership development project p>
Silence.
One of the men—late forties, balding, with the permanent scowl of someone who’d given up years ago—finally spoke. “With all due respect, Ms. Smith, we’ve had three different ’overseers’ in the past six months. What makes you any different p>
“Fair question,” I said. “I’m different because I actually know what I’m doing. And because I’m not going anywhere until this company is profitable again p>
Another woman, younger with sharp features, leaned back in her chair. “Big words. We’ve heard them before p>
“I’m sure you have.” I pulled out my tablet and brought up the preliminary analysis I’d done.
“But here’s what you haven’t heard—a realistic timeline, proper resource allocation, and someone who’s not going to abandon ship the second things get difficult p>
I walked them through my initial assessment. The funding gaps. The partnership failures. The structural problems nobody had bothered to address.
They listened, but their body language remained closed off. Arms crossed. Eyes narrowed. No questions, no engagement.
After forty-five minutes, I closed my tablet. “That’s the overview. I’ll need detailed reports from each department by end of week so we can p>
“Yeah, about that,” the balding man interrupted. “We’re pretty stretched thin here, Ms. Smith. Not sure we can spare the manpower for extra reports p>
“It’s not extra,” I said evenly. “It’s your job p>
“Our job is keeping this place running day-to-day,” the sharp-featured woman cut in. “Not jumping through hoops for corporate p>
I felt my jaw tighten. This wasn’t resistance born from legitimate concerns. This was pure territorial stubbornness.
“I understand you’re frustrated,” I said carefully. “But if you want this company to survive, we need to work together. That means p>
“Survive?” The balding man laughed bitterly. “Lady, this place has been on life support for a year. Whatever corporate promised you, it’s not happening. We’ve been through this dance before p>
The meeting deteriorated from there.
Every suggestion I made was met with excuses or passive-aggressive pushback.
By the time Emily and I left an hour later, I’d accomplished exactly nothing.
“Well,” Emily said as we got back in the car. “That went well p>
I pressed my fingers to my temples, feeling a headache building. “They think I’m just another corporate puppet who’ll disappear in a few weeks. They’re not going to cooperate p>
“So what’s the plan p>
“I don’t know yet.” I started the engine, pulling out of the parking lot. “But I need to figure it out fast. Nathan’s expecting me to fail. I can’t give him the satisfaction p>
I got home that evening exhausted and frustrated, dropping my bag by the door and collapsing onto my couch.
Nova Enterprises was a disaster. Worse than a disaster—it was a graveyard where motivation went to die. And I had no team.
Recruiting new people would take weeks, and I knew Nathan would find ways to block my hiring requests. He’d made sure this project was designed to break me.
My phone sat on the coffee table, screen dark and silent.
I picked it up, scrolling through my messages. Nothing from Damian since yesterday morning’s brief text: [At the northern border. Long day ahead p>
That was it. Twenty-four hours and not a single word since.
I typed out a message three times, deleting it each time.
[Hey, today was rough. Could use someone to talk to p>
Delete.
[Miss you p>
Delete.
[How’s the border situation p>
Delete.
I tossed the phone onto the cushion beside me with more force than necessary.
What was I doing? Sitting here like some lovesick teenager waiting for her boyfriend to text?
I’d promised myself I wouldn’t be that person.
Wouldn’t lose myself in another relationship, wouldn’t become dependent on someone else’s attention for validation.
One night together didn’t mean I got to demand his constant attention. He was the Alpha King, for god’s sake.
He had actual important responsibilities—border disputes, pack politics, territorial negotiations.
My personal drama with Nathan and a failing subsidiary probably seemed trivial in comparison.
But god, I wanted to hear his voice. Wanted to tell him about Clara’s meltdown in the lobby, about Maxwell’s partnership offer, about the disaster that was Nova Enterprises.
Wanted him to tell me I wasn’t crazy for thinking I could actually pull this off.
I grabbed my phone again, thumb hovering over his name.
No. I wasn’t going to do this. Wasn’t going to be clingy and needy just because I’d had one bad day. Damian had enough on his plate without me adding to it.
I set the phone down again, this time face-down so I couldn’t see if the screen lit up with notifications.
The apartment felt too quiet. Too empty.
Too much like the life I’d lived for two years with Ethan—coming home to silence, eating dinner alone, pretending I didn’t notice how isolated I’d become.
Except this time, it was by choice. I’d chosen this independence. Chosen to stand on my own two feet instead of leaning on someone else.
So why did it feel so lonely?
My phone buzzed.
I snatched it up so fast I nearly dropped it, heart leaping into my throat.