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Chapter 87 – Arya's POV
"She's Not Done"
I didn't know how long I'd been staring at the ceiling.
The lights were off, the curtains drawn, and Liam had finally fallen asleep with his hand still clinging to my shirt — but I couldn't sleep. My body was exhausted, swollen in places I didn't know could swell, and my emotions sat like sharp pins beneath my skin.
It wasn't just the pregnancy.
It was the feeling.
That cold, creeping feeling I hadn't known in a long time.
Another woman.
My man.
And a secret I didn't ask for.
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The photo still sat in my gallery.
Sophia walking into Damon's office.
And he hadn't told me.
I hated that I hadn't said anything yet, but something in me said to wait. To watch. To see if he'd come forward on his own. Maybe I was being foolish, hoping for something he'd never offer, but Damon had changed… hadn't he?
But then today, something new happened.
Something worse.
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It started with a delivery.
A single white envelope addressed to Mrs. Arya Blackwood.
No return address. No sender's name. Just clean cursive ink on the front.
I almost didn't open it. But curiosity… fear… instinct… it pushed my fingers to rip the seal.
Inside was a single photo.
This time, Damon and Sophia were in the same frame. Standing outside what looked like a hotel conference room. Her face was turned slightly toward his, lips parted like she was laughing. He wasn't touching her — but she was too close. Too comfortable.
And next to the photo, a single typed sentence:
"He didn't tell you about this trip either, did he?"
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I dropped the photo like it burned.
My heart began pounding, and I pressed my hand over my belly, whispering calming nonsense to my unborn child.
"Shh… it's okay. Mommy's just—just startled."
But I wasn't okay.
I was shaking.
Why is she doing this?
How does she know where I live?
Why now?
She didn't want Damon.
She wanted me broken.
This wasn't about love. It was about power. Control. And if she couldn't have Damon, she'd settle for making me feel small, paranoid, and unworthy again.
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I refused.
I stood up, grabbing my phone, pacing the living room.
Arya: Are you free to talk?
No response.
I started typing again, but deleted it.
What would I even say? "Hey, did you enjoy your chat with the woman who once shattered me?" Or, "By the way, she's sending me anonymous hate mail now — any thoughts?"
My pride wouldn't let me send it.
So instead, I called the one person who always knew how to bring clarity.
Amara.
---
She picked up on the second ring, her voice sleepy. "Hey… everything okay?"
"No," I whispered, my voice cracking. "She's back, Amara. Sophia. And she's not stopping this time."
There was a pause. Then Amara's voice hardened. "What did she do?"
I told her. About the envelope. The photo. The message. My own silence. My fears.
"She's trying to shake you," Amara said. "You know that, right? Damon didn't go back to her. She's just angry you won."
I swallowed. "What if I didn't win? What if he's hiding more than I know?"
"Then he's an idiot," she said flatly. "But Arya… he's not that man anymore. You see it. I see it. Hell, even Ethan said Damon's grown."
I exhaled shakily. "I want to believe that."
"Then believe it. But that doesn't mean you have to sit back and let this woman mess with your peace."
"I don't want to fall apart again."
"And you won't. Because this time, you know who you are."
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After I hung up, I sat on the edge of my bed for a long time.
The old me would've cried in the shower and stayed quiet.
But I wasn't the old me anymore.
I was a mother. A woman rebuilding her life. A fighter.
So I took the photo, slid it back into the envelope, and tucked it away in my drawer — not to hide it, but to remind myself:
I've survived her once.
And I'll survive her again.
But this time, I wouldn't let Damon stay silent.
He had to tell me the truth — all of it.
Because if we were going to build a life together, there couldn't be ghosts between us.
Only honesty.
Only love.
Only us.
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End of Chapter 87 – Arya's POV