The CEO's Regret: His Lost Wife's Secret Twins novel Chapter 42

Chapter 42

EMMA

The crystal glass shattered in Blake’s hand.

Not fully broken, but cracked. A thin line split down the side, and whiskey dripped onto the table. Everyone fell silent.

“Jesus, Blake. Matthew raised his hands. “I was joking.”

Blake didn’t respond. His eyes stayed locked on Aria’s hand, which had been reaching toward Matthew’s forehead. She pulled it back now,

her face confused.

The others started making excuses.

But I knew better.

This wasn’t about them laughing at him. Blake Morgan never cared what people thought.

No, this was about her. About the way Aria had been looking at Matthew all night. About how she’d almost touched him.

Blake was jealous.

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The realization burned through me. I’d spent years becoming everything he needed. The right background, the right connections, the right image. I’d molded myself into the woman who belonged beside him at every gala, every charity event, every business dinner.

And yet here he was, losing control over the help’s daughter.

“Blake, darling.” I reached across the table. “Is your head bothering you? The doctor said the injury might cause headaches.”

He blinked. Seemed to remember where he was.

“I’m fine.” His voice came out rough. “Just need some air.”

“Before you go,’ I said, keeping my tone light. “I wanted to thank you again. For the Grant estate renovations.”

Aria’s head snapped up.

“The contractors start next month,’ I continued. “I’m so excited about the new dance studio. Blake’s been incredibly generous.”

“It’s nothing,” Blake said. But his attention had shifted back to Aria. I hated that.

“Nothing?” I let out a soft laugh. “You’re tearing down the old carriage house for me. That’s hardly nothing.”

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Chapter 42

I watched Aria’s face. Watched the color drain from her cheeks.

The carriage house. Where she grew up. Where her mother still lived.

“The carriage house?” Aria’s voice barely came out.

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“Best location for natural light,” I explained. “The architects agreed. We’ll build something beautiful there. Something worthy of the Grant

name.”

Aria stood up. The movement was sudden, jerky. She grabbed her bag.

“Excuse me.” She didn’t look at anyone. “I need to go.”

ARIA

I couldn’t breathe. Emma’s words kept echoing in my head as I stumbled through the club. My childhood home. The carriage house where Dad taught me to read. Where I practiced my first dance steps. Where I hid when Christine’s cruelty became too much.

Blake was tearing it down. For her.

Tears blurred my vision but I blinked them back. Not here. I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

The cool night air hit my face as I burst outside. Finally. I walked fast, no destination, just needing distance between me and that

suffocating room.

Gone. All of it. For Emma’s dance studio.

I couldn’t breathe. The sidewalk stretched out in front of me, but I couldn’t see where I was going. My eyes burned.

Not here. Not where anyone could see.

‘Aria!’

Blake’s voice. Of course.

“Leave me alone.’ I kept walking.

“Stop. He caught up, grabbed my arm. “Just stop.”

I yanked free. “Don’t touch me.”

“You’re upset.

“Really?” The word came out sharp. “What gave it away?”

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Chapter 42

“The carriage house-

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“Is my home.” My voice cracked. I hated that. Hated showing him anything. “Was my home. But I guess that doesn’t matter to people who

own multiple estates.”

“It’s just a building, Aria.

Just a building.

Something inside me broke.

“Just a building?” I stared at him. “That’s where I grew up. Where all my childhood memories live. But sure, tear it down. Build Emma her

studio. What’s one more thing taken from us?”

“You’re being dramatic.

“Dramatic. I laughed. It sounded hollow. “You know what’s dramatic? Destroying someone’s home and calling it nothing.”

Blake’s jaw tightened. “It’s not your home. It’s property owned by the Grant family. Property that Emma now has every right to renovate.”

“Property.” The word tasted bitter. “Is that all you see? Property and investments and things you can just replace?”

“What else is there?” He stepped closer. Too close. I could smell his cologne. “You want me to what? Stop the renovation? Disappoint Emma because you have sentimental feelings about a structure that should have been torn down years ago?”

“My mother-

“Will be relocated,” he cut me off. “The Grants will provide appropriate housing. This isn’t the tragedy you’re making it out to be.”

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