After Rebirth, I Became My Ex's Aunt-in-Law-Chapter 139: The CEO of Ghosting Needs a Reality Check

The executive elevator glided to a silent halt on the top floor of Sinclair Headquarters.

Aria stepped out, the sharp click-clack of her pointed-toe Louboutins echoing in the cavernous, immaculate reception area. She was braced for an army of uppity gatekeepers, or perhaps the lingering scent of cheap vanilla body spray that had trailed the women she saw leaving earlier.

Instead, she found only Ken.

The usually unflappable, perfectly groomed executive assistant was sitting behind the main reception desk, staring blankly at the wall. His tie was loosened, his top button was undone, and he looked like a man who had just barely survived a tour of duty in a psychological warfare trench.

"Ken?" Aria asked, stepping closer.

Ken jumped, his eyes snapping to her. For a split second, sheer terror flashed across his face, before profound relief washed over his features.

"Mrs. Sinclair," Ken exhaled, practically collapsing onto his desk.

Aria let out a short, amused breath, leaning her elbows on the high marble counter. "I saw the exodus downstairs. What happened? Did Damien decide to pivot the company into an escort service?"

"He took over the night-shift secretary interviews," Ken groaned, burying his face in his hands. "It was a nightmare. Women swooning, astrologers crying..."

"Where is he, Ken?" she asked, her voice losing its teasing edge.

"Sub-level three," Ken replied, standing up and smoothing his ruined tie. "The private executive gym. He went straight for the heavy bags. He’s currently trying to punch his way through a Kevlar sack. I... I didn’t want to interrupt him. But I will go fetch him for you."

"Thank you, Ken. I’ll wait in his office."

Ken nodded, grabbed his keycard, and hurried toward the elevators.

Aria pushed open the heavy glass doors to Damien’s office.

The room was vast, dominated by floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city skyline, but it felt strangely empty without his suffocating, gravitational presence.

She walked straight past the leather sofas and went directly behind his massive mahogany desk. She ran her hand along the back of the imposing, high-backed CEO chair before sitting down.

The leather sighed under her weight. The chair was entirely too big for her.

Aria gripped the edge of the desk, lifted her Louboutins off the floor, and gave a hard push.

The chair spun.

She did a full 360-degree rotation, watching the city blur past the glass. She stopped herself with the toe of her shoe, a small, satisfied smile playing on her lips.

"I could definitely get used to this," she mused aloud.

She leaned forward, resting her forearms on the desk. That was when she saw it.

Sitting next to a stack of pristine, ignored Tokyo merger contracts was a small, orange prescription bottle. The white cap was off, resting upside down on the wood.

Aria’s smile vanished. She picked up the bottle.

Vanax.

Aria set the bottle down, her chest tightening. The annoyance that had been simmering in her veins since the kitchen suddenly cooled into a puddle of soft, aching realization.

"You stubborn idiot," she whispered to the empty room. "Why didn’t you say anything?"

Aria stood up and walked over to the private mini-bar tucked into the custom shelving unit. She poured herself a glass of sparkling water over ice, feeling surprisingly at peace. She would wait for him to come up. She would be gentle. She would coax whatever he was keeping from her out.

She walked back to the desk, sipping her water, and pulled out her phone.

She opened Instagram.

The notification tab was practically glowing red. Her "lip gloss" post had officially broken the internet.

She scrolled through the comments, a smug, highly satisfied grin returning to her face.

@BellaValeHater: "The fact that she posted this while Bella is probably screaming at a wall somewhere is my favorite genre of comedy."

@RichKidProblems: "Breaking into a 200k car for lip gloss is peak Queen behavior. We bow."

@GossipGoblin: "Sources say Lucas was seen sweating profusely in the Sinclair lobby looking for a package labeled ’Lip Gloss’. THE LORE IS EXPANDING."

"Gaslighting the public really is a team sport," Aria chuckled, taking another sip of her sparkling water. She had won.

The heavy glass doors to the office clicked open.

Aria looked up, a soft, welcoming smile already forming on her lips, ready to greet her husband.

But it wasn’t Damien.

It was Ken.

He stepped into the office alone. His face was pale, and he looked like a man walking to the gallows. He stopped a safe distance from the desk, wringing his hands.

Aria lowered her glass. The ice clinked against the crystal. "Ken? Where is he?"

Ken swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. "I... I went to the gym, Ma’am. I delivered your message. I told him you were waiting."

"And?" Aria prompted, her eyes narrowing.

"And," Ken winced, bracing himself for the explosion. "He didn’t stop punching the bag. He just... he told me to tell you that he is busy. And that he will... speak to you at home."

The silence in the office was deafening.

The soft, understanding puddle of affection in Aria’s chest evaporated in a millisecond, flash-boiling into pure, unadulterated, scorching rage.

’He will speak to me at home?!’

He was brushing her off. He was sending his assistant to dismiss his wife like she was a telemarketer.

Aria set the glass of sparkling water down on the mahogany desk. The thud was sharp and dangerous.

"He said that," Aria repeated, her voice dropping into a deadly, velvet whisper.

"Verbatim, Ma’am," Ken squeaked, taking a subconscious step backward. "I strongly advised against it, but he was wearing hand wraps and looking very aggressive."

Aria stood up. She smoothed the silk of her black camisole. The empathy she had felt two minutes ago was dead and buried. If he wanted to act like a coward, she was going to treat him like one.

She picked up her phone and slid it into her pocket. She walked around the desk, her Louboutins clicking a rapid, lethal rhythm against the floor.

"Ken," Aria said, coming to a stop right in front of the terrified assistant.

"Yes, Mrs. Sinclair?"

"Show me the way to sub-level three," Aria commanded, her emerald eyes flashing with a promise of violence. "Right now."