After Rebirth, I Became My Ex's Aunt-in-Law-Chapter 199: Not My Circus, Not My Monkeys
Aria’s fingernails dug so hard into her crossed forearms they left deep, crescent-moon indentations in her skin.
She stood frozen by the bedroom doorframe, her heart hammering a frantic, terrifying rhythm against her ribs.
She was terrified.
They lived in a fortress. The penthouse was protected by biometric scanners, private elevators, and elite mercenaries stationed at every access point in the building. If someone had managed to breach their perimeter— 𝒇𝓻𝓮𝓮𝙬𝙚𝒃𝒏𝓸𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝓬𝓸𝒎
’What if he’s hurt?’ Aria panicked, her breathing turning shallow. ’What if there’s more than one of them? What if he’s already dead?’
She took a shaky step forward.
"AIEEEEE!"
The high-pitched, blood-curdling, distinctly girly shriek tore through the quiet penthouse.
And then, Damien’s voice roared in disbelief: "What the fuck, Diana?!"
Aria stopped dead in her tracks.
She blinked.
The adrenaline surging through her veins instantly evaporated, replaced by a profound, heavy wave of utter annoyance. The intruder was just her nosy, bro-con sister-in-law.
Aria let go of her arms, her tense shoulders dropping completely. She rolled her eyes so hard she saw the ceiling.
"Not my circus, not my monkeys," Aria muttered to herself.
She turned on her heel, walked back into the master bedroom, and shut the oak door.
She marched straight into the en-suite bathroom. She was long overdue for a self-care spa day, and a minor disturbance was not going to interrupt her schedule.
"Siri," Aria called out, turning on the rainfall shower. "Play ’Espresso’ by Sabrina Carpenter."
The upbeat, bouncy pop anthem instantly flooded the bathroom speakers. Aria stripped off her silk camisole and shorts, tossing them into the woven laundry hamper in the corner, and stepped into the warm water.
Meanwhile, in the kitchen....
Diana was writhing on the floor, clutching her ruined cream cashmere pants. She was screaming at the top of her lungs.
Damien was kneeling beside her. He had grabbed a stack of thick, highly absorbent linen dish towels from the kitchen island and was pressing them firmly against the wound on her thigh.
"I’M DYING!" Diana shrieked, real tears of pure agony and shock streaming down her face, ruining her meticulous makeup. "YOU KILLED ME! MY LEG IS GONE!"
"Stop screaming," Damien gritted out, his jaw clenched so tight a muscle feathered in his cheek.
A sharp, pulsing spike of pain began to throb directly behind his left eye.
"It hurts!" Diana wailed, bucking against his hold. "I’m bleeding out! I’m going to die on this floor!"
"You are not dying," Damien said, his voice flat and entirely devoid of sympathy. "Your screaming is giving me a headache, so shut up."
He reached up with his free, blood-stained hand and slapped the smart-home intercom panel mounted on the wall near the fridge, connecting directly to the security desk downstairs.
"Richard," Damien commanded into the speaker. "Contact Elias. Tell him to get to the penthouse immediately."
Diana sobbed hysterically, her hands hovering uselessly over Damien’s wrists as he kept the pressure steady.
"I can’t believe you shot me!" she cried, looking up at him with wide, betrayed eyes. "I’m your sister!"
"You suddenly jumped out from behind a refrigerator," Damien countered, glaring down at her with cold eyes. "You know better than to sneak up on me."
"I just wanted to surprise you!" Diana sniffled defensively. "You were ignoring all my calls! I was worried about you being all alone!"
Back in the bathroom, Aria was thoroughly enjoying her sanctuary.
She lathered her hair with a generous dollop of her favorite strawberry marshmallow shampoo. The thick, sugary, sweet scent immediately filled the steam. She hummed along to the chorus of the song, taking her time to massage her scalp.
She rinsed, applied a heavy deep-conditioning mask, and stepped out of the water, wrapping her hair securely in a plush microfiber towel cap.
She stood in front of the vanity mirror, humming cheerfully as she began painting a thick, dark green mud mask onto her face with a soft silicone brush.
Out in the kitchen, Damien knelt in the pooling blood, looking down at his older sister.
"I gave you the passcodes to this penthouse," Damien said, his voice dropping into a chillingly quiet, deadly serious register. "For emergencies."
Diana whimpered, the absolute frost in his tone piercing through her pain.
"I knew you were coming to the city," Damien continued, pressing the towels harder. "I personally secured the Presidential Suite at the Sinclair Tower for you. It is the best room offered to guests. I ensured it was fully staffed and waiting for your arrival."
He looked at the mountain of Louis Vuitton luggage sitting in his foyer.
"So why are you here, Diana?" Damien asked, his eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. "Why are your things in my living room?"
"I wanted to stay with you," Diana gasped, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. "Because of Aria... I knew you needed someone. I’m your family, Damien."
Damien stared at her.
He didn’t see a loving sister. He saw a woman who continuously refused to respect a single boundary he had ever set. He saw a woman who thought she was entitled to his space, his life, and his time simply because they shared DNA.
"You are a forty-five-year-old woman, Diana," Damien stated. "When are you going to grow up and stop doing these stupid, childish things?"
Diana stopped crying.
The air in her lungs vanished.
She stared up at her baby brother. She searched his face for a flicker of the little boy she used to protect, for a hint of guilt or remorse for shooting her.
There was nothing.
His golden eyes held no sympathy. No warmth. Just cold, unadulterated disappointment. He looked at her the exact same way he looked at an incompetent, failing executive right before he fired them.
The emotional devastation completely shattered her.
Diana’s mouth opened and closed silently, like a fish out of water. She couldn’t formulate a single excuse.
The agony radiating from her thigh was absolutely nothing compared to the crushing, humiliating reality that her brother was disappointed in her.
Damien didn’t say another word. He just kept the pressure on the towels and his cold gaze locked onto his hands, letting the suffocating silence remain while they waited for Elias to arrive.
