Chapter 287: The Art of Husband Taming

"Psychology 101, Aria," Zoe purred, tapping a finger against her chin. "Men suffer when they want what they can’t have. But they suffer so much more when they are forced to look at what they used to have, but aren’t allowed to touch."

Aria stared at her best friend. The gears in her brain slowly turned as the realization clicked into place.

A wicked smile spread across Aria’s face.

"You want me to sexually torment him while maintaining radio silence," Aria translated.

"Exactly," Zoe beamed, clapping her hands together. "You don’t just ignore him. You parade yourself in front of him. You look like an untouchable goddess. You make him painfully aware of exactly what he is missing out on because he decided to act like a controlling, manipulative asshole."

Aria let out a dry, breathy chuckle. She pushed herself up from the plush mattress, stretching her stiff arms above her head.

"It’s a brilliant strategy, Zoe, truly," Aria sighed, padding barefoot across the carpet toward the bathroom. "But it’s going to be a little difficult to serve ’untouchable sex siren’ when I am currently bleeding out like a horror movie extra."

Zoe hopped off the bed and followed Aria into the bathroom.

"Biological roadblocks are just an excuse for a lack of creativity," Zoe declared.

She marched over to the toilet, flipped the lid down, and made herself comfortable, crossing her legs as Aria turned on the shower while brushing her teeth.

"So, you can’t strut around in a thong for a few days. Who cares?" Zoe continued, gesturing emphatically. "You have fantastic boobs, Aria. Weaponize the cleavage! Wear his shirts with no bra underneath. Bend over to pick things up frequently and slowly. Work with the assets you have available."

Aria laughed, stepping out of her t-shirt and underwear.

She slid the frosted glass door of the shower open and stepped inside. She grabbed a bottle of body wash and began to lather it over her shoulders.

"I just... I’m so tired, Zoe," Aria admitted.

Zoe’s smile faded. "I know, honey."

"I hate his constant need for control," Aria whispered, her chest tightening with the familiar ache of betrayal. "I love him so much," she confessed into the wet tile. "But right now... I honestly don’t know if I have it in me to forgive him again."

The bathroom fell quiet, save for the sound of the running water.

Zoe let out a long sigh. She leaned her elbows on her knees, looking at the frosted glass silhouette of her best friend.

"Aria, you need a reality check," Zoe said softly, but firmly. "You have every right to be furious. You should hold him accountable. But you also have to remember who you married."

Aria turned her head slightly, peering through the foggy glass.

"You didn’t marry an accountant," Zoe reminded her gently. "You didn’t marry a normal, well-adjusted guy from the suburbs. You married the Demon King of New York. You married a man who survived a succession war."

"Yes, I believe the rumors about his brothers," Zoe quickly added then continued, "You can’t expect a man who isn’t normal to function like a normal person."

Aria slowly turned around, leaning her back against the wet tile.

"While you were in that coma," Zoe continued, her voice thick with emotion, "I watched him completely lose his mind, Aria."

Aria stopped breathing.

"He didn’t go home," Zoe revealed, shaking her head. "He didn’t sleep in a bed. He moved his office into your ICU room. He set up a desk right next to your bed. He lived in a plastic visitor’s chair for nine straight days, just watching your chest rise and fall to make sure you were still breathing."

Tears instantly welled up in Aria’s eyes, mixing seamlessly with the shower water streaming down her face.

"He loves you so much it is genuinely terrifying," Zoe whispered. "I’m sure whatever it is, he didn’t hide it from you to be malicious."

"I’m not saying you should just let him off the hook," Zoe advised, standing up from the toilet seat. "I’m saying you need to whip him into shape. You need to punish him so severely that he never, ever dares to repeat his mistakes. Don’t leave him. Tame him."

Aria slowly lowered her hand from her mouth.

Zoe was right.

Damien Sinclair manipulated and controlled everyone in his life because he was the most powerful man in every room he entered. But he wasn’t the most powerful person in their marriage. She was.

She was the only person on the planet capable of bringing him to his knees. She had undisputed power over him, and up until this very moment, she had never been interested in truly exploiting it.

Aria grabbed the chrome handle and slid the frosted glass shower door wide open. She stepped out onto the bathmat, dripping wet, her chin tilted up with a newfound, confident aura radiating off her skin.

Zoe gasped, jumping backward. Her eyes blew comically wide as she openly, shamelessly stared at her best friend’s body.

"Holy shit," Zoe blurted out, her jaw dropping. "Respectfully, Aria... when did you get so hot?!"

Aria laughed, grabbing a plush white towel from the heated rack and wrapping it around her body. "Stop staring at me, you pervert. And I’ve always been hot FYI."

"I am so serious!" Zoe insisted, waving her hands wildly. "If this whole acting thing falls through, you don’t even have to worry. You could pivot to porn or OnlyFans. You would make millions in a week. I would subscribe!"

Aria chuckled, securing the towel over her chest.

But as Zoe’s words echoed in her head, the smile on Aria’s face slowly faltered.

’If the acting thing falls through.’

Aria stared at her own reflection in the vanity mirror, a hollow ache blooming in the center of her chest.

She had spent her entire life idolizing her mother. She had thrown herself into the brutal, toxic meat-grinder of the entertainment industry for one reason: to rebuild Vale Entertainment and honor her mother’s love for acting.

But if the French cartel boss was telling the truth...

If her mother was actually a ruthless mafia double-agent who had seduced a kingpin, lobotomized him, and orchestrated a massive heist... what exactly was Aria honoring? Was she dedicating her life to a phantom? An illusion?

Aria gripped the edge of the marble vanity, her knuckles turning white.

’No,’ Aria fiercely commanded her own spiraling thoughts. ’The Vipers are unreliable narrators. They hated her. They had every reason to twist the story to make themselves the victims.’

She took a deep breath, desperately choosing to cling to the hope that a better, truer version of the story existed out there. A version that proved her mother was the saintly, loving woman Aria remembered from her childhood.

Aria turned back to Zoe. "I need to get dressed," she announced. "We have a long day ahead of us, though most of it is already gone."