She ran her fingers along one of the suit jackets, feeling the quality of the fabric.
Everything about Damien was expensive, controlled, perfect. Even his closet looked like it could be photographed for a magazine.
Aria turned away and went to explore the rest of the penthouse in daylight.
The space was even more impressive than she'd realized last night. Multiple living areas, a dining room that could seat twelve, a chef's kitchen that looked barely used, a library with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, a home gym, and her breath caught a room with perfect northern light that was completely empty.
A studio.
The perfect space for a studio.
She stepped inside, turning slowly. The light was incredible. The space was large enough for multiple easels, storage for supplies, room to work on large-scale pieces. The hardwood floors were already protected with some kind of sealant that would handle paint spills.
Had Damien known? Had he deliberately left this room empty for her?
The thought made something complicated twist in her chest.
She was still standing in the empty room, imagining how she could transform it, when her phone buzzed. Elena.
"Are you alive? Do I need to come rescue you? Send me your location and a safe word."
Despite everything, Aria smiled. She typed back: "I'm alive. He left for work. I'm alone in the penthouse with an unlimited credit card and instructions to 'make myself comfortable.'"
"That's either really generous or really suspicious. Maybe both. Are you okay? Really?"
Aria thought about the question. Was she okay?
"I don't know yet. He's… complicated. Last night was intense. But he didn't hurt me or force anything. We slept in the same bed but that's all. He established 'rules' for the marriage. I pushed back on most of them. This morning he's gone and I'm trying to figure out what my life looks like now."
"Do you want me to come over? I can take a long lunch."
The offer was tempting, but Aria found herself hesitating. She needed to do this explore this space, claim it, figure out how to exist here on her own first.
"Not today. But soon. Maybe this weekend? I might need a friend to help me process all of this."
"You have my word. Also, I'm officially putting Damien Blackwell on notice. If he steps out of line even once, I will personally end his entire existence."
"I believe you. That's why I love you."
"Love you too. Stay strong. And remember you're not trapped. You always have options."
Did she, though? The contract said three years minimum. Her uncle's life had depended on this marriage. What options did she really have?
But she appreciated Elena's fierce loyalty anyway.
Aria spent the next few hours exploring every corner of the penthouse, opening doors, learning the layout, trying to make it feel less like a museum and more like a home. She found Damien's home office all dark wood and leather, with multiple monitors and a view that probably cost a fortune in real estate value. She found a media room with a massive screen and theater seating. She found a wine cellar that held bottles that probably cost more than cars.
Everything was perfect. Expensive. Impressive.
And absolutely devoid of personal touches.
There were no photos anywhere. No mementos, no evidence of a life lived, no proof that an actual human being existed in this space. It was like a high-end hotel suite beautiful but soulless.
It made Aria's heart ache for reasons she couldn't fully explain.
By early afternoon, she'd made a decision. If this was going to be her home for the next three years, she was going to make it actually feel like a home. Starting with that empty room.
She found the driver's number programmed into her new phone an iPhone that was at least two models newer than her old one and called.
"Thomas speaking. How can I help you, Mrs. Blackwell?"
She winced at the name but typed into the phone's text-to-speech function: "I need to go to an art supply store. The big one in Chelsea."
"Of course. I can be there in fifteen minutes."
Exactly fifteen minutes later, Thomas a middle-aged man with a professional demeanor and kind eyes was driving her through Manhattan in a sleek black Mercedes. Aria watched the city pass by the tinted windows, feeling like she was seeing it from behind a barrier now, separated from the life she used to live.
The art supply store was a haven familiar in a way nothing else had been in the past twenty-four hours. She'd spent countless hours here during her college years, drooling over supplies she couldn't afford, carefully budgeting for the essentials she needed.
Now she had an unlimited credit card.
It felt surreal as she loaded the cart. Canvas in multiple sizes. Oil paints, acrylics, watercolors. Brushes ranging from fine detail to large house-painting size. Palette knives, mediums, solvents. An expensive French easel she'd coveted for years. Storage solutions. Drop cloths. Everything she'd ever wanted and plenty she'd never dared to dream of.
The total came to just over eight thousand dollars.
The cashier's eyes widened slightly. "That's quite the haul. Getting ready for something big?"
Aria nodded and typed on her phone: "Setting up a new studio."
"Well, happy painting," the cashier said cheerfully. "These supplies should last you a while."
Thomas helped her load everything into the car, not batting an eye at the volume of purchases. They made one more stop at her old apartment building, where Aria still had keys. She wanted to grab a few personal items that hadn't been transferred: her mother's jewelry box, some photos, her father's old record collection.
Mrs. Chen from 4B was in the hallway when Aria emerged with her boxes.
"Aria! I heard you got married!" The elderly woman's eyes were bright with curiosity and concern. "To a rich man? Is it true?"
Aria nodded, pulling out her phone to type: "Yes. I got married yesterday."
"Are you happy?" Mrs. Chen asked, her expression turning serious. "Your uncle told me it was… arranged. To help with his debts."
Trust her uncle to tell everyone their business.
Aria considered the question. Was she happy? That seemed like too simple a word for what she felt.
"I'm adjusting," she typed honestly. "It's complicated."
Mrs. Chen patted her arm gently. "Life is always complicated, dear girl. But you're strong. You've been through worse and survived. You'll survive this too."
It was almost exactly what Aria had told herself. The echo of it made her eyes burn with unexpected tears.
"Thank you, Mrs. Chen. For everything. For being kind when I moved in. For the dinners you brought when you knew I was struggling."
"That's what neighbors do," Mrs. Chen said firmly. "And you'll always be welcome back here, no matter how rich your husband is. This is your home too."
The lump in Aria's throat grew larger. She hugged Mrs. Chen quickly, then hurried to the car before she could start crying in earnest.
By the time she returned to the penthouse, it was late afternoon. Thomas and Margaret both helped her carry everything up the art supplies, the boxes of personal items. Margaret made no comment about the massive purchases, just asked where Aria wanted everything set up.