Chapter 282: The Toxic Apple Doesn’t Go Very Far

Aria descended the grand, floating staircase of the penthouse, her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her black hoodie. But as she reached the bottom step, a major roadblock appeared.

"Well, well. Scurrying away to the guest wing already?"

Diana was parked in the center of the foyer in her wheelchair, a crystal glass of sparkling water resting in her cup holder. She wore a smug, deeply satisfied smirk that radiated toxic energy.

Aria let out a long, heavy sigh, devoid of the energy required to deal with this woman’s delusions today.

"Diana, please," Aria muttered, trying to sidestep the wheelchair. "I am not in the mood."

"Oh, I’m sure you aren’t," Diana gloated, effortlessly wheeling herself to block Aria’s path again. "My nurse has been keeping me updated, you see. She tells me Damien is currently locked in his study, drowning himself in scotch."

Diana tilted her head, her eyes gleaming with vindictive triumph.

"A real shame, isn’t it?" Diana sneered, looking Aria up and down with profound disgust. "You pushed him to this. You don’t understand him, Aria. You obviously never did. You were never good enough for my amazing brother. After everything he has done for you, how dare you throw a tantrum and upset him?"

Aria paused. She stared at the older woman.

"You know what? You’re right," Aria said, her voice flat and deadpan.

Diana blinked, momentarily thrown off by the lack of resistance. "Excuse me?"

"I don’t understand him," Aria agreed calmly, leaning her weight casually against the banister. "I don’t understand how the Sinclair bloodline breeds such insane, controlling, suffocating monsters. But honestly? Looking at you right now, it all makes perfect sense."

Aria offered a cold, analytical smile.

"The apple doesn’t fall far from the neurotic tree, does it? He’s a control freak because you raised him like a suffocating warden. He’s just mirroring your behavior."

Diana’s face flushed a violent, mottled shade of crimson. Her jaw dropped in outrage.

"How dare you speak to me like that in my family’s home?!" Diana shrieked, her voice echoing shrilly off the marble floors. "You ungrateful little brat! Get out! Pack your cheap bags and get out of this house!"

Aria didn’t even flinch. She let out a soft, mocking laugh.

"You can scream all you want, Diana," Aria jeered, leaning down slightly to look the older woman dead in the eye. "But let’s be real. Even if I leave... you still won’t get him."

Diana froze.

"Damien doesn’t share your twisted, sick affection," Aria whispered. "So you should really just give it up."

The implication hit Diana like a physical blow. Her face contorted with blinding fury.

"You bitch!" Diana screamed.

Completely forgetting that she was confined to a wheelchair and had limited mobility, Diana swung her arm in a wild, vicious arc, fully intending to slap the smug look right off Aria’s face.

She wouldn’t have even reached Aria’s cheek from her seated angle, but Aria didn’t let the hand get anywhere close regardless.

Aria caught Diana’s wrist in mid-air and squeezed. Hard. Her fingers dug ruthlessly into the older woman’s bones.

Diana let out a sharp gasp of pain, trying to yank her arm back, but Aria’s grip was like an iron vice.

"You forgot your place," Aria warned, her voice dropping into an icy whisper. She leaned down further, her emerald eyes completely devoid of mercy. "You are physically helpless right now, Diana. All it takes is one little push, and you’ll tip backward. You’ll be flailing on this marble floor like a struggling bug on its back. And with no one around to help you up, you’d look incredibly pathetic."

Aria squeezed tighter, drawing a pained whimper from her sister-in-law.

"So let me make this very clear," Aria threatened smoothly. "If you dare leak a single word to the media about me and Damien, or if you try to meddle in my marriage again... I will personally let the entire internet run wild with rumors about your sick, incestuous obsession with your brother."

Diana’s breath hitched. She recoiled in disgust. "That is disgusting! And completely untrue!"

"Maybe it is," Aria agreed with a dark, cynical smirk. "But the internet loves drama, Diana. The pop-culture blogs would eat those allegations up in seconds. They would tear your high-society reputation to shreds before dinnertime."

Diana stared at her, her eyes wide with terror. She knew Aria was right. The internet would absolutely believe it, and her social life would be permanently destroyed.

Aria roughly released Diana’s hand, tossing it aside as if it disgusted her.

"Keep that in mind the next time you want to play games," Aria advised, straightening her posture. "I’m not in the mood today."

Without a second glance, Aria turned on her heel and strutted down the hallway toward the study, leaving her sister-in-law trembling in the foyer.

Diana sat paralyzed in her wheelchair, massaging her bruised wrist. She glared at Aria’s retreating back, her chest heaving with humiliated rage.

"That bitch!" Diana cursed under her breath, her eyes burning with angry tears.

She whipped her head around toward the shadows of the corridor.

"Nurse!" Diana yelled shrilly. "Take me to my bedroom! Now!"

Stepping out from the alcove, Sarah quickly walked over and grabbed the handles of the wheelchair.

Sarah had heard the entire exchange. As she wheeled the fuming socialite down the guest corridor, she contemplated just letting go of the handles and sprinting out the front door. The toxicity of this family was foreign and kind of terrifying to her.

But then, Sarah thought about how much she was being paid for this awful job.

’Hazard pay,’ Sarah reminded herself, swallowing her pride. She just needed to endure this snobby woman a little longer.

Once inside the guest suite, Sarah helped Diana change out of her day clothes. The entire time, Diana was ranting furiously about the audacity of the "actress skank."

"Sit down!" Diana suddenly barked, pointing a shaking finger at an armchair in the corner.

Sarah stared at the chair. She really, really just wanted to leave and go eat her dinner.

With a quiet sigh, Sarah walked over and sat down, perching nervously on the very edge of the chair.