After Rebirth, I Became My Ex's Aunt-in-Law-Chapter 217: No Sacrifice No Victory

Aria absolutely could not have the world doubting her husband’s mental capacity. Damien Sinclair had a global, multi-billion-dollar empire to run. If the board of directors, the shareholders, and the rivals genuinely believed the Demon King was sitting in a hotel room contemplating suicide, the sharks would instantly smell blood in the water.

She feared the consequences of her stupid, petty PR stunt negatively affecting his career.

Out in the hallway, Richard was putting on the performance of his life.

"Whoa, officers, please!" Richard’s usually calm voice was pitched up in frantic, civilian panic. "You can’t just bust in there! My brother is in that room! He’s completely deaf! He gets violently startled! He has a severe heart condition!"

Aria grabbed Damien by the bicep, yanking him downward so she could whisper directly into his ear.

"I have a plan," Aria hissed frantically, her breath hot against his jaw.

Damien’s brows furrowed in deep confusion. He looked at her, "Are you sure?"

Aria smiled, nodding rapidly. "It’s the only way."

She lunged for her Louis Vuitton weekender bag resting on the floor, tearing the zipper open. She aggressively rummaged through her neatly folded clothes until she found a pair of grey sweatpants and a baggy black sweatshirt with a hood.

"That is the second part of the plan," Aria whispered hurriedly, stepping into the sweatpants and pulling them up to her waist in record time.

Damien frowned, "What is the first part?"

Aria pulled the hoodie over her head, her messy rose-gold hair popping out the top. She dropped to the floor, frantically shoving her bare feet into her sneakers and aggressively yanking the laces tight.

"The only way to completely squash a viral, trending story," Aria explained, "is to overwrite it with a more viral, unhinged story. You have a very active, highly loyal fanbase on the internet, Damien. We should take advantage of it."

Damien stared at her. He already entirely despised where this was going.

Finally, Aria stood up, shoving her phone and a wad of cash deep into her hoodie pocket.

"When they breach the door," Aria started, her eyes wide and completely serious, "you need to let them walk in on you jerking off."

Damien Sinclair looked at his wife like she belonged in a straitjacket.

"What?" Damien hissed, his voice an incredulous whisper. "Why would I do that?!"

"To go viral!" Aria urged, waving her hands.

"Can’t they walk in on me reading a book?!" Damien demanded. "Or watching television?!"

"No!" Aria groaned. "Reading a book doesn’t trend on Twitter, Damien! It has to be something absolutely extreme to hijack the media’s attention!"

"I am not doing that," Damien flatly refused, his dignity thoroughly repulsed. "I have a better idea. I will step out of this room. I will face the press, explain the situation, and lead them into the second part of your plan."

Aria paused, looking up at him. "What are you going to say to the press?"

Before Damien could answer, a loud scuffle erupted right outside the door.

"STEP ASIDE, SIR!" a cop roared.

There was the sound of a body hitting the wall, followed immediately by the sharp, metallic zip-click of flex-cuffs locking around wrists.

"They’re coming in," Damien stated.

He grabbed Aria by the wrist, dragging her silently toward the glass doors leading out to the suite’s private balcony.

He slid the glass door open. Sitting in the corner of the balcony was a massive, extremely fluffy artificial ficus tree in a decorative ceramic pot.

They rushed behind it, sliding the glass door shut behind them just a fraction of a millisecond before the main suite door splintered inward with a loud CRASH.

The space behind the artificial tree was incredibly tight.

Aria was pressed flush against Damien. She was plastered to his front, her chest crushed against the solid, unyielding wall of his torso. She could feel every single corded muscle flexing beneath the fine wool of his bespoke suit.

Her cheeks flushed a vibrant pink.

She focused her gaze on his face. Her heart was hammering so fast and so hard against her ribs that she was absolutely certain he could feel it.

Feeling the weight of her stare, Damien slowly lowered his chin. His golden eyes met hers in the shadows of the artificial leaves.

Inside the suite, the stomping of police boots filled the room.

"CLEAR!" a gruff voice shouted from the bathroom.

"LIVING AREA CLEAR!" another cop yelled.

Damien slowly lowered his head until his lips were a millimeter from her ear.

"It is going to be okay," Damien whispered.

Aria smiled. She wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging him tightly, and rested her cheek directly over his heart.

She wasn’t worried. Not when she was wrapped in his arms.

Aria closed her eyes, holding her breath as the glass balcony doors were suddenly yanked open. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝔀𝓮𝒃𝙣𝓸𝒗𝒆𝒍.𝙘𝒐𝒎

For one agonizing, terrifying moment, there was only silence. Even the air seemed to still. Aria buried her face deeper into Damien’s suit jacket, praying the artificial leaves were thick enough to obscure his broad shoulders.

"Balcony clear!" the officer shouted back into the suite.

The officer stepped back inside, and the glass doors slid shut.

Aria released a breath of relief against his chest.

They stayed frozen behind the tree for another long minute, holding their positions even after the stomping of boots had completely faded down the hotel corridor and the suite had fallen dead silent.

Damien hadn’t let go of her. He had wrapped both of his arms securely around her back, resting his chin gently on the top of her head.

Aria let out a soft, amused chuckle.

"So," Aria whispered into the quiet night air, tilting her head up slightly. "How long are we going to stay like this?"

Damien looked down at her. He didn’t loosen his grip.

"You don’t have to give up on the epic comeback you wanted at the premiere," Damien told her, his voice soft but firm. "We’ve already cleared the police sweep. I will go down to the press and explain the situation. I will tell them the suicide rumor was a hoax."

Aria gently pulled away, stepping back just enough to look him fully in the face.

"No," Aria said, shaking her head. "The internet is stubborn and crazy, Damien. No matter what logical statement you give them, they will twist it to feed the narrative they want."

Aria offered him a soft, reassuring smile, reaching up to rest her hands on his chest.

"I was beginning to think that PR stunt idea was dumb anyway," Aria lied smoothly. "Thinking about it, a red carpet resurrection isn’t really that epic."

Damien’s brows furrowed. He knew exactly how much she had been looking forward to dropping that bomb on the world. "Aria, you don’t have to—"

Aria lifted her hand, pressing her index finger firmly against his lips to silence him.

Her emerald eyes turned serious.

"I do not want the world, or anyone in it, to think that my husband is a weak man in any way, shape, or form," Aria stated, her voice a fierce, unyielding vow. "I will not let them pity you."

Damien slowly reached up, wrapping his hand around her wrist. He gently pulled her finger away from his mouth. He turned her palm over, lowering his head to press a tender kiss to the center of her hand.

"I am weak for you," Damien murmured against her skin, his golden eyes blazing with affection so raw it made her heart stutter.

A blush instantly crept up Aria’s cheeks, flooding her neck and ears with heat.

"W-Well," Aria stuttered, suddenly finding the collar of his shirt incredibly fascinating as she desperately tried to collect her scrambled thoughts. "They don’t have to know that."

Damien smirked as he laced his fingers through hers. Hand in hand, they stepped out from behind the artificial tree, sliding the glass doors open and stepping back into the suite.

Aria’s eyes immediately darted to the television screen, which had been left running.

The news broadcast was still panning over the chaos outside the hotel. In the corner of the screen, Diana was sitting in her wheelchair, violently sobbing into a tissue.

Aria stopped walking. A slow, wicked smirk spread across her face.

"So," Aria mused, her eyes locked onto her weeping sister-in-law. "She’s going to be staying with us for three weeks?"

"I am going to make her life an absolute, living Hell," Aria promised.