After Rebirth, I Became My Ex's Aunt-in-Law-Chapter 112: Sorry, the Bar is Closed for Maintenance (of My Ego)

Chapter 112: Sorry, the Bar is Closed for Maintenance (of My Ego)

"Too much sequin," Zoe decided, tossing a silver mini-dress onto the pile on the floor. "You’ll look like a disco ball having a mid-life crisis."

"It’s vintage," Aria defended, holding up a black leather corset. "And I think I’m leaning toward ’Dominatrix on a budget’ anyway."

The walk-in closet was a disaster zone. They had been trying on clothes for an hour, fueled by the excitement of their upcoming "Girls’ Night Out," but the adrenaline was fading, replaced by a deep, gnawing hunger.

"I need food," Zoe announced, flopping onto the ottoman. "Real food. Not acai. Not a smoothie. I want a burger that threatens my heart health."

"The hotel restaurant makes a Wagyu burger that costs forty dollars," Aria said. "It comes with truffle fries."

"Sold."

"Let’s go."

Aria didn’t bother changing into "public" clothes. She was comfortable. She was wearing grey sweatpants that were three sizes too big, rolled at the waist, and one of Damien’s black t-shirts that smelled like cedar and expensive laundry detergent. She threw her hair into a messy bun, slid her feet into a pair of fuzzy slides, and grabbed her keycard.

"You’re going downstairs like that?" Zoe asked, adjusting her own leggings.

"I own the building," Aria shrugged. "Dress codes are for tenants."

They took the private elevator down to the lobby.

The Sinclair Tower wasn’t just a corporate HQ; the lower levels were a five-star hotel, complete with a lobby bar called The Onyx that was the stomping ground for the city’s elite.

When the elevator doors opened, Aria paused.

The lobby was packed. But it wasn’t just guests. It was... women.

Beautiful women. Women in couture gowns, women in heels high enough to require a permit, women with blowouts that defied gravity. They were clustered in the lounge, sipping cocktails and eyeing the private elevators like hawks.

"Is there a pageant?" Zoe whispered.

"No," Aria realized, watching a blonde model check her makeup in a compact mirror. "They’re hunting."

"Hunting what?"

"My husband."

Aria scanned the room. Every time the elevator chimed, fifty heads turned. They were waiting for a glimpse of Damien Sinclair—the Number One Bachelor turned Number One Billionaire Husband.

"Does he know he has a fan club?" Aria mused, amused. "They look very dedicated. That one in the red dress has been staring at the elevator for five minutes without blinking."

"It’s terrifying," Zoe agreed. "Let’s get a table before they realize he isn’t coming down."

They walked into The Onyx. The hostess, a young woman who looked overwhelmed, smiled at them.

"Table for two?"

"Please," Aria said. "Ideally near the back. We’re incognito."

The hostess led them toward a plush booth in the corner. It was the best seat in the house—private, secluded, with a view of the entire room.

But before they could sit, a voice cut through the hum of conversation.

"Excuse me! That is my table."

Aria turned.

Standing there was a woman who looked like she had been airbrushed in real life. She had platinum hair, a dress made of gold chainmail, and an entourage of three assistants holding her purse, her dog, and her ring light.

It was Lexi. The rising pop star whose single "Heartbreak Hotel" had been playing on the radio for six months straight.

Lexi looked Aria up and down. She took in the sweatpants. The messy bun. The fuzzy slides.

Her lip curled. 𝘧𝓇ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝘣𝓃ℴ𝓋𝑒𝑙.𝑐𝘰𝑚

"This is the VIP section," Lexi sneered. "Service entrance is in the back, sweetie. Move along."

Zoe bristled. "Excuse me?"

"I have a reservation," Lexi declared, snapping her fingers at the hostess. "I specifically asked for the booth with the best lighting. I’m waiting for someone important."

"Let me guess," Aria said dryly. "Damien Sinclair?"

Lexi’s eyes narrowed. "Mr. Sinclair is a patron of the arts. And I am an artist. Now, move. I don’t want your... street clothes ruining the aesthetic of my story."

She tried to push past Aria.

Aria didn’t move. She didn’t get angry. She just smiled. It was the smile of a woman who held the deed to the building.

"I like this table," Aria said.

"Do you know who I am?" Lexi scoffed. "I have ten million followers. I could buy this hotel."

"You could buy a night in a suite," Aria corrected gently. "Maybe two."

She turned to the hostess, who looked like she wanted to vanish.

"Is the manager in?" Aria asked.

"Yes, Ma’am. Mr. Henderson is in the office."

"Get him. Tell him Mrs. Sinclair would like a word."

Lexi froze. Her assistants froze. The dog stopped panting.

"Mrs... Sinclair?" Lexi whispered, her eyes darting from Aria’s face to her sweatpants. "You’re... her? The actress? But you look like..."

"Like I’m comfortable?" Aria finished. "Yes. It’s a perk of ownership."

Mr. Henderson came running out of the back, buttoning his jacket. He took one look at Aria and bowed so low his nose almost touched his knees.

"Mrs. Sinclair! A pleasure! We didn’t know you were coming down! Please, take any table! Take the whole bar!"

"Actually," Aria said, looking at Lexi. "That sounds perfect."

She turned to the singer.

"I think we need a little privacy, don’t you, Zoe? It’s getting crowded in here."

"Way too crowded," Zoe agreed, grinning.

"Mr. Henderson," Aria said, her voice carrying through the silent bar. "Close the lounge. Private family meeting. Clear the room."

"But... the guests..." Henderson stammered.

"Put it on my tab," Aria said. "Everyone out. Now."

Henderson turned to the room. "I apologize, ladies and gentlemen! The Onyx is closed for a private event! Please clear the area immediately!"

Security stepped forward.

Lexi stood there, her mouth open. "You can’t kick me out! I’m Lexi!"

"And I’m the wife of the man you’re waiting for," Aria said sweetly. "He’s not coming, honey. He’s busy. With me."

She waved. "Bye."

Lexi turned red. She grabbed her dog and stormed out, her entourage scrambling to follow. The rest of the "fan club" filtered out, casting jealous glares at Aria’s sweatpants.

Within two minutes, the bar was empty.

Aria sat in the booth. She put her fuzzy slides up on the velvet seat.

"Two burgers," she ordered. "And a bottle of the ’82 vintage. I feel like celebrating."

Zoe collapsed into the seat opposite her, laughing. "That was... so petty. I love it."

"I try," Aria said, reaching for a breadstick.

They ate in blissful, expensive silence.

Suddenly, the double doors at the front of the lobby burst open.

A commotion erupted. Security shouted.

"Ma’am! You can’t go in there!"

A figure broke through the line of guards.

It was Bella.

She looked wrecked. She wasn’t wearing makeup. Her hair was a mess. She was wearing a tracksuit that looked like she had slept in it.

She ran into the empty bar, her eyes wild, scanning the room until she landed on Aria.

"Aria!" Bella screamed, her voice cracking.

Aria put down her burger. She stood up, signaling security to stand down.

Bella ran to the table. She grabbed Aria’s arm. Her grip was weak, her hands shaking violently. Tears were streaming down her face, ruining her shirt.

"It’s Daddy," Bella sobbed, collapsing to her knees on the floor of the empty bar. "He collapsed. He’s in the ICU. The doctors say... they say he doesn’t have much time."