~Aria's POV~

"Serena Lane, my personal assistant and true partner in every sense this wouldn't have been possible without your unwavering belief in me." The camera panned to a woman in the front row Serena Lane, I recognized her vaguely from industry events her eyes shining with tears as she smiled at Ethan.

I felt a jolt of additional shock. Serena. Ethan's colleague. The same Serena who'd been circling him for months. It clicked into place: this wasn't just about an award. This was about Ethan, and what he really wanted. He wanted to humiliate me publicly.

She rose from her seat, walking confidently towards Ethan on stage, and as she reached him, she jumped into his arms and kissed him on the lips. My heart shattered.

A reporter stepped forward, her voice sharp with questions.

"Mr. Thorne, can you clarify your relationship with Serena Lane? Isn't she just your secretary, considering you're married to Aria Thorne?"

Ethan raised Serena's hand, his smile radiant. "Serena and I are engaged," he announced, ignoring the implication. I covered my mouth in shock, my eyes fixed on Serena's left hand.

On her ring finger sparkled the Montgomery family heirloom the diamond encircled by vintage platinum, a ring I had admired years ago. I had asked him to give it to me, but he had said he'd give it to the one he was madly in love with. Now I understood. Serena was that one.

On the screen, Ethan continued speaking, his words cutting like knives.

"Aria was a substitute a partnership of convenience. The one I love the most is Serena Lane."

The camera flashed repeatedly, capturing the stunned crowd and the beaming Serena. Distant questions from reporters overlapped, but I blocked them out.

My heart ached as the truth crushed me: I had been used. The ring, the words, the betrayal it all swirled in agony, silencing everything else.

I stood up, my movements mechanical, and picked up my keys from the table. I exited the Grand Hyatt, the dim evening air heavy with unspoken rejection.

As I reached the packing lot where my car was packed, the glooming clouds burst open and rain poured down. Tears streamed down my face, uncontrollable, as flashbacks of Ethan's confessions hit me like waves.

"You know I can never leave you, right? I love you so much. Let me lead the company."

"You're the foundation of everything I do I need you, Aria, allow me to be your head. I'm your husband after all."

"We'll build our future together, just you and me."

I wiped my face fiercely, clearing the tears. It was all pretense. Every word, every touch he had an ulterior motive. I got into the car and drove, my focus narrow, to our apartment.

Soon after, I pulled up in front of the building, grabbed my umbrella, and rushed inside, shielding myself from the downpour.

If Ethan had made this move, he was planning more. I thought of the companies our joint projects, our shared accounts. I needed to secure the documents. I unlocked the apartment door, my mind racing.

I'd gather all the company papers, every contract and record. I'd protect what was mine. I wouldn't let Ethan use and discard me like he had tonight.

A plan formed, cold and clear: document everything, claim my rightful part, and expose him if I must.

I stormed through the apartment like a whirlwind, searching every inch of the living room, bedroom, and study, my tension coiled tight.

I prayed I would find every document, every scrap of paper that proved my contribution to Eclipse and secured my rights before Ethan came back.

The need to protect what was mine drove me, and I moved with frantic efficiency, yelling inner warnings at every drawer and cabinet I opened. Papers, contracts, digital backups where had he kept them? But as the minutes ticked by, my urgency turned to desperation.

There were no documents. No files. No backup drives. Nothing. The space felt emptied, picked clean, and I wondered with growing panic where he had hidden it all.

I ran my hands through my hair tirelessly, my scalp aching under the strain. I pressed my hands to my lips, biting my fingers as if I could physically hold in the rising hysteria. Where were the documents? Did he take them? Did he anticipate this?

Just as I was on the verge of collapsing into chaos, I heard the soft creak of the door opening. I froze, my hands still pressed to my mouth. Ethan stood in the doorway, his expression a mask of solicitous concern — the same face he had worn on stage hours ago, loving and loyal.

My body stiffened as he asked, his voice measured, "Aria, what's wrong? What are you looking for?"

I didn't let him take another step in. I angrily approached him, my eyes blazing, my voice low and trembling with fury.

"Where are the documents for my company?" I demanded, each word a laced threat. I expected him to flinch, to stutter, to reveal guilt — but he didn't.

A hard silence fell between us, heavy as a stone, before Ethan threw his head back and laughed. The sound was casual, amused, as if I'd asked something ridiculous.

"Which company, Aria?" he said, his eyes glinting with mockery.