Chapter 40
Chapter Forty
Ariana
I adjusted the diamond bracelet on my wrist as I scanned the hundreds upon hundreds of people in the refurbished warehouse that had been transformed into tonight’s gallery space.
Exposed brick walls stretched toward high ceilings crisscrossed with steel beams and industrial piping, all softened by strands of warm Edison lights suspended overhead.
Massive paintings and sculptures filled the open space, their bold colors standing out against the neutral tones in the architecture.
The faint scent of champagne, oil paint, and polished wood lingered in the air while a DJ spun beats in the background, the music creating a fun, celebratory atmosphere.
A year ago, an event like this would have made my skin crawl.
Back then, charity functions were prisons disguised as philanthropy. Rooms full of wealthy strangers and fake smiles where I stood beside Victor like a decoration instead of a person.
Every laugh carefully measured.
Every movement practiced.
Every bruise hidden beneath couture gowns and glittering jewels.
Tonight felt different.
Not simply because I’d intentionally planned for this to be a far cry from the stuffy galas I’d attended in my past life.
But because this wasn’t Victor’s world anymore.
This was mine.
A silent auction to benefit the women’s home I’d opened a few months ago.
“What do you think?” Henry asked from beside me, his voice smooth and deep. “Is it everything you hoped it would be?”
I turned toward him, momentarily forgetting every other person in the room.
God, this man was handsome. Trimmed jawline. Styled hair. A charcoal gray blazer paired with a white button-down shirt and dark jeans.
But the Henry I loved the most wasn’t this polished version.
It was the man in worn jeans and Henleys.
The man with rough hands and an overgrown beard standing in the kitchen of his cabin in Maine.
The man who looked at me as if I were a warrior.
“It’s even better,” I admitted, unable to rein in my smile. “I mean, look at all these people.”
My gaze swept over the room, landing on my mother as she stood next to the bar, laughing with her new boyfriend, Charles, her cheeks flushed with happiness.
Moving back to New York had been good for her.
While I hated living so far away, I respected her desire to spread her wings and live her life. And since moving to Staten Island, that was precisely what she’d been doing.
Beside Mom and Charles stood Gideon and Imogene, clearly enjoying a rare kid-free evening, although I’d caught Gideon showing off pictures of nine-month-old Emma to everyone who asked.
Even Sarah and her parents came. I expected nothing less, considering Sarah was integral in planning tonight. She found the warehouse space. Coordinated with artists willing to donate pieces. Used her online following to spread the word about the foundation.
Sometime over the past year, I’d stopped thinking of her as just Henry’s daughter. She’d become family.
Just like Henry had become mine.
“I never expected this,” I whispered, overwhelmed by the support friends, family, and complete strangers had shown me over the past several months.
“What is it your mom always says?”
I furrowed my brow. My mom had said a lot of things. I was surprised Henry paid enough attention to remember anything.
Then again, he’d grown quite close to my mom over the past year.
“Love is stronger than hate,” he stated. “People want to support something good. Especially when it’s born out of something painful.”
Emotion tightened my throat.
There had been a time when it was difficult to talk about my past with Victor. Some of the things I endured were so personal. So…humiliating.
But after I shared my story, women started reaching out to me. Thanking me. Telling me they’d left abusive husbands after hearing my story. Saying they finally felt seen.
If my story could help someone else escape their own situation, I’d do everything to keep telling it. Which was why I felt compelled to start this foundation.
Being Victor Kane’s wife gave me a platform. Now I planned to use it to help people.
“I’m so damn proud of you, Ariana,” Henry said, cupping my face in his hands. “My warrior.”
My heart warmed at his words, filling me with the same love and appreciation I felt the first time he called me a warrior. Back then, I struggled to believe it. I still saw myself as weak. But Henry showed me how strong I really was.
And he continued to show me every day.
“Thank you,” I whispered as he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to my lips that made the noise of the gala fade away.
“Come on.” He pulled back, flashing a grin. “Let’s look at some art together.”
He held out his elbow for me, and I looped my arm through it, allowing him to lead me through the gallery.
Earlier in the evening, people were spread out, checking out the pieces they hoped to bid on in the silent auction. But now that it was nearing the end, most people were in the main room, dancing and taking advantage of the open bar.
As much as I’d been enjoying myself tonight, it was nice to have a minute alone with Henry. I’d forgotten how exhausting events like this could be. But I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
After perusing the pieces in the main room, Henry steered me into a smaller alcove lined with a few landscape paintings. I paused in front of one depicting a coastal marsh at sunset. The water reflected streaks of amber and pale pink beneath a fading sky while tall grass bent gently in the wind.
“Looks peaceful,” Henry remarked.
I smirked in his direction. “If I recall correctly, you said the exact same thing to me at another charity event about a year ago in Miami.”
His mouth curved up in the corners. “And I remember you proving me wrong.”
“I didn’t prove you wrong.”
I crossed my arms in front of my stomach, and Henry’s gaze briefly dropped to my chest, the royal blue cocktail dress I wore making my cleavage seem even more ample tonight. And Henry had definitely noticed.
“I simply stated that most people see what they want to see.”
“And you were right. I missed all the things you pointed out that made it more…troubled. So go ahead. Prove me wrong again.”
I turned back toward the painting, studying it with the same scrutiny I once did to all art.
Not because I had an appreciation or a strong opinion.
But after attending so many events, art had become a distraction.
Even for just a few minutes, I could escape into a different world. Go to a different place.
A year ago, I would have noticed the dying reeds in this painting first. The storm clouds lingering in the distance. The loneliness of the empty shoreline.
Now I noticed the soft glow of sunlight breaking through the clouds.
The way the tide still moved despite the darkness overhead.
The stubborn green grass pushing through the muddy water.
Life continuing.
Hope surviving.
“I guess you’re right,” I admitted softly, almost in awe. “I guess it is peaceful.”
Henry stared at me for several long seconds, as if just as surprised as I was.
“It’s official,” he announced finally. “I’m going to remember this moment for the rest of my life.”
“Because I said you were right?” I gave him a teasing grin.
“Yes,” he deadpanned. “But that’s not the only reason.”
Before I could ask for clarification, he dropped to one knee in front of me.
My breath instantly caught, every sound around me becoming muted.
The music.
The gallery.
The voices.
Gone.
All I could see was Henry.
And the box in his hand.
“Ariana,” he began, his voice rougher than I’d ever heard it. “The first time I saw you, I despised everything about you. I thought you represented everything ugly in this world. Everything selfish and cruel. But then I learned the truth. And for the second time, you proved me wrong.”
I choked out a laugh through the tightness in my throat.
“You destroyed every assumption I had about who you were. You were compassionate when you had every reason not to be. Brave when you were terrified. You saw pieces of me I’d spent years trying to bury, and somehow you learned to love me anyway. You learned to trust me anyway.”
Tears slipped down my cheeks, a sense of nostalgia filling me as I recalled those early days.
“I spent most of my life believing I was better off alone,” he continued.
“That love wasn’t something I deserved after everything I’d done.
Everyone I failed.” His eyes held me, steady and unwavering.
“But you changed that. You gave me your trust. Your love. Made me hopeful for a future. And I’d love nothing more than to live that future with you as my wife. ”
He opened the ring box, revealing a stunning round-cut diamond. It wasn’t nearly as ostentatious as the one Victor had given me. But he didn’t choose that ring out of love. Not like Henry did.
“I don’t care whether you take my last name or not. That isn’t what matters to me.” His voice thickened. “What matters is that you know I’m yours. Completely. For the rest of my life.”
I pressed a trembling hand over my mouth, staring at this man looking up at me as if I held his fate in my hands. It was so different from the intimidating, aloof man who’d found me in the woods. Who brought me in from the cold.
Who saved me from Victor.
Or, as Henry insisted… Who helped me save myself from Victor.
“I want the world to know I belong to you,” he whispered. “If you’ll have me.”
A watery laugh escaped. “You want to belong to me?”
“More than anything.”
My heart felt too large for my chest, like my body couldn’t contain everything I felt for him.
“And I want to belong to you,” I whispered back. “I’m yours, Henry.”
Hope flashed across his face so raw and beautiful it nearly destroyed me.
“Does that mean—”
“Yes,” I exhaled. “I’ll marry you, Henry Fontaine.”
In a heartbeat, he jumped to his feet and crushed his mouth to mine, sliding the ring into place.
For the past ten years, I believed love was something dangerous. Something painful. Something to be used against me.
Then Henry Fontaine crashed into my world. And somehow, through all the darkness, violence, and grief, he taught me something I never thought possible.
Love wasn’t a weakness.
It was what finally set me free.