Chapter 12
As I stormed out of Subsix, the Maldivian air hung heavy with salt and heat.
I wiped away the unshed tears as I stumbled along the sandy pathway.
Hissing at the heels threatening to betray me, I ripped them off and tossed them aside, continuing barefoot across the villa's private deck, sweat chilling on my skin.
I collapsed onto the deck, my feet aching, my throat raw from holding back the screams clawing at my chest. My fists clenched, nails digging into my palms.
"Fuck it! Fuck it! Fuck it!" I cursed, standing abruptly. My other fist slammed against the wall, eyes locked on the dark horizon.
The villa should have felt like paradise—white curtains drifting in the breeze, lanterns glowing like stars around the infinity pool. Instead, it felt like a cage. Every corner whispered of my mistakes from years ago; every shadow reminded me that Sloane's feelings weren't love, but punishment.
I dragged myself inside, tossing the silk dress onto the couch before changing into trousers, a plain shirt, and a cardigan. I wanted to scream, but what good would it do? My head pounded, my chest ached, as though I'd been struck in the face.
"Why would she do it?" I whispered, opening the refrigerator to grab a bottle of beer. I slammed it shut and returned to the deck, collapsing onto a lounge chair.
I gulped straight from the bottle, listening to the waves, but their calm did nothing to still my nerves. Leaning back, I took another swig as footsteps echoed on the deck. I didn't need to look—I knew. Her presence filled the space like storm clouds blotting out the moon.
A scoff escaped me. I shouldn't let my emotions control me, but I needed this. Her steps drew closer, then paused.
"You ran away, Ro," her voice was low, mocking. I could taste the fire in her tone.
I drank again, eyes fixed on the ocean, and rose to face the railing, the bottle in one hand for support.
"You didn't have to—" My voice cracked. I swallowed hard, glancing at the dark sky, stars shimmering faintly. "Not like that, Sol."
A soft laugh cut through the night, heels clicking as she closed the distance. She still wore the red silk dress, clinging like sin itself. I could smell him on her.
"Not like what?" Her breath brushed my ear as she leaned close. "Not like pressing against another man the way you used to press against me? Not like tasting freedom while you stood there and burned alive?"
My lips trembled as I met her eyes. I took another gulp, but she snatched the bottle, finishing it with triumph in her gaze, cruel and predatory.
She turned to set the bottle on the lounge table. I grabbed her arm, forcing her to face me.
"Why?" My voice cracked again. "Why are you doing this, Sol?"
"Because you deserve it, Ro." My nickname sounded like venom—sweet, but cruel.
She stepped closer, fingers trailing down my cheek, deceptively tender.
"You left me. You ruined me. And now..." Her hand tightened on my wrist. I winced.
"...I'll ruin you. Slowly. Beautifully. So you'll never forget who you belong to. "
I tried to pull away, but my strength betrayed me. My chest thumped wildly, my body faltered, yet I prayed she couldn't feel the tremor beneath my skin. I would've confessed long ago, but now? Fuck it—I would hide everything.
Sloane smirked, her other hand reaching for my cardigan.
"You think I don't see it?" she whispered, lips inches from mine.
"The weight you've lost. The way you tremble.
Something's eating you alive, Ro, and you haven't even told me.
" Her eyes flicked between mine and my lips.
"Stress, Ro? Stress that you might lose your empire no matter what?
Don't worry," she leaned closer, her lips brushing mine.
"I'll be here. I'll devour you whole until you beg me, until you decide you need only me. "
"Sol..." My breath hitched. Tears burned behind my eyes, but I swallowed them. To cry would be surrender—and not now. I pressed a trembling hand to her cheek, rubbing my thumb across it.
Sloane shut her eyes.
"You'll never forgive me, will you?" I whispered.
She opened them slowly, tilting her head like I was a cracked masterpiece under glass.
"Forgive you?" Her lips brushed my temple in a parody of affection, warm breath grazing my ear.
"No, darling. I'll love you. I'll ruin you.
And when you finally break... I'll be the only one left to pick up your pieces. "
My jaw clenched as she let go. "This is my revenge, Aurora. Have a taste of my perfect revenge while it's served hot." Her hands traced my shoulders, lingering. "The worst mistake you made was leaving me. You shouldn't have."
The Sloane before me was no longer the woman I loved. No longer the one I left. I exhaled sharply, stepping closer, cornering her against the table. My hands pressed to either side of her.
"You want to see me beg?" I scoffed, glaring. "Then force me to beg in front of you, Sloane. Force me to kneel, because I doubt you could."
Her face darkened the instant I said her real name. She grabbed my collar and crashed our lips together—rough, demanding. She cupped my cheeks, fingers digging in as she bit my lower lip. I tasted blood. She sucked it before pushing me away, smearing her lipstick across her lips.
My breathing was ragged. Her laugh was low, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Your lips tasted better when you didn't tell me you were only using me for sex." She wiped her eyes and turned, disappearing inside.
A knot formed in my throat. I faintly smiled, glancing at the ocean, letting the silence drown me. A low laugh escaped as I felt warmth trickle from my nose. Blood. I wiped it with my fingers.
"I love you, Sol," I whispered to the breeze. "So... fine. Get your revenge, if that's what makes you happy."
?·???°???°???·?
It had been days since we returned from the Maldives. We rarely spoke to each other; we simply coexisted, two bodies in the same space but invisible to one another. I sighed, clutching my phone as my eyes lingered on the confidential email displayed across the screen.
My hair was still a mess, but I couldn't care less.
I dragged myself out of bed and stepped into the hallway.
The faint scent of butter and batter drifted toward me.
Pausing at the kitchen entrance, I blinked through the strands falling into my face.
Sloane stood at the stove, humming softly, pan in hand.
When she turned, she jolted so hard the spatula clattered against the pan. "Holy fuck!" she hissed, pressing a hand to her chest. "What the hell are you doing, standing there like some white lady?"
I tilted my head, brushing my hair aside as I walked toward her. "Sol, can we talk?"
Her brow arched, but she sighed, setting the spatula down. "What is it? Don't you have to go into the office today? I made pancakes." She shrugged, almost casually.
Shaking my head, I gave her a faint smile. "I figured I needed to tell you—since technically, you're my wife." I locked my phone and tucked it into my sweatpants.
She frowned but stayed silent, waiting. I licked my lips and stepped closer. "I'll be gone for a while. A month, maybe."
Her brows shot up. She crossed her arms. "Where exactly are you going?"
"Switzerland. An urgent business trip." I tried to sound casual.
She only nodded, turning back to flip the pancake. I stood behind her, closer this time.
"When did you find out?" she asked, voice flat.
"A week ago," I admitted, lowering my voice. "I know I should've told you sooner—"
"Safe trip," she cut in, sliding the pancake onto a plate. "Take care of yourself."
I hesitated. "Can I ask you something?"
She glanced at me over her shoulder. "What is it?"
I rubbed my neck, sheepish. "Could you... look after the company while I'm gone? You're my wife, and the largest investor. I was hoping you could manage things until I get back."
She set the spatula down and faced me. I rushed to add, "If it's too much, it's fine. I just thought I'd ask."
Her shoulders eased as she sighed. "Alright," she said softly, turning back to the stove. "When's your flight? Do you need me to drive you?"
"This afternoon. And no, I'll manage."
Her head whipped around, hazel eyes flashing. "This afternoon?"
"Yeah. There's a private plane, and my luggage's already packed." I shrugged, though her glare made me shift on my feet.
Her voice cooled. "What's the trip really about? Do you need more investors?"
"I'm planning to expand—build another HQ in Switzerland. Geneva or Zurich, maybe."
Her lips twitched as she nodded. "Alright." She plated the last pancake and turned the stove off. "Let's eat."
We carried the food to the table. To my surprise, she'd already set out eggs, sausages, salad, maple syrup, whipped cream—the kind of breakfast that looked almost domestic.
We sat across from each other in silence.
It was the first time since our marriage we'd shared a real breakfast, but even now, it felt like we were invisible.
Sloane scrolled through her tablet, chewing absentmindedly. I cleared my throat. "Sol," I began, taking a bite of her pancake. "About—"
She glanced up, tilting her head. But before I could continue, her tablet chimed. She raised a finger. "Hold on," she said, grabbing her earbuds and answering the call.
She walked to the glass panel, speaking professionally, her laughter slicing through me. The sound stabbed at me. Jealousy coiled tight in my chest.
I forced myself to finish my food, my gaze fixed on the half-eaten pancake. By the time she returned, I was standing, clearing my plate.
"Done already?" she asked, setting her tablet down.
"Hmm." I picked up my utensils. "Thank you for breakfast, Sol."
"What were you going to say earlier?" she pressed, slicing into her pancake. "Before the call?"
I faintly shook my head. "Nothing important," I said, excusing myself to return the utensils to the kitchen.
I laughed bitterly to myself, heart clenching, as I placed them in the sink. A housekeeper entered, bowing. I nodded subtly, retreating to the bedroom. I set my phone on the bedside table and headed to the bathroom. Just a few hours until my flight—I needed to be ready.
In the shower, I closed my eyes as water drenched me. "Maybe being away will help me process this," I murmured. All hope of starting over with Sloane felt gone—but I couldn't deny that I still loved her. My heart had been aching these past few days, impossible to hide.
After an hour, I emerged, wrapped in a robe, towel on my shoulders, patting my hair dry. Sloane sat on the edge of the bed, watching me.
"Sol..." My voice cracked. My pulse quickened, beating hard against my ribs.
She stood, brows furrowed, gaze locked on me. "Something you need?" I asked, my throat tight.
She shook her head. "I'll be meeting with a business partner later—the one I was talking to earlier."
"Oh." I smiled faintly. "That's fine. Don't worry about me."
"I'll wait for you to leave for the airport before I go," she said abruptly.
I turned sharply. "Why?"
"Because I'm your wife. Isn't that what a wife should do?" she shrugged.
A hollow laugh escaped me. "You're my wife because you wanted revenge, Sol."
"I know. But legally, we're married. Binding in every way." She pulled a shirt from the wardrobe and handed it to me. "I'll act like your wife when it matters. So let's not argue over how I act as your wife, right?"
I glanced at the outfit, sighed, smiling softly. "Yeah," I whispered.
She moved toward the door. "Hurry up, or you'll miss your flight."
"Anything you want me to bring back?" I called after her.
She paused at the knob, glanced back, and gave me the faintest smile. "Just be home safe. You know... it'd be sad if something happened while I wasn't enjoying my revenge." Then she was gone.
Her words made me laugh, though heat flushed across my face as I looked at the clothes she'd chosen.
An hour later, the housekeeper wheeled out my luggage. I entered the living room—Sloane sat cross-legged, laptop on her thigh, eyes meeting mine.
"Leaving already?" she asked, setting it aside.
I slung my duffle bag over my shoulder. "Uh-huh."
We walked to the foyer, the driver loading my luggage. Celeste stood by the passenger side. I glanced at Sloane, offering a faint smile. "I'll be gone for a while. Stay safe."
Before I could step out, she caught my wrist and pulled me back. My breath hitched as she cupped my face and kissed me. It wasn't a simple kiss—it lingered, warm and consuming. When she pulled back, her laugh ghosted against my lips.
"Just an act," she murmured, thumb brushing my cheek. "Make sure you come back, Ro. Otherwise, I'll ruin the empire your family's been protecting for generations."
I smiled faintly. "You don't have to remind me. But don't miss me too much, okay?"
She cackled, hands on my shoulders. "I'll miss not having someone to take revenge on. That's just sad." She leaned in, kissing both my cheeks. Then, softer: "No matter how much I hate you, I still hope you stay safe."
"Thanks, Sol," I whispered.
The driver opened the car. I turned back one last time—she was leaning against the post, watching me.
"Take care, love. I love you!" she called, waving sweetly, a picture of the perfect wife.
The house staff chuckled and blushed. Another act. I forced a smile, waving back. "I love you more, wife," I whispered, sliding in beside my bag.
I sighed, staring out the window. Sloane leaned on the post, watching the car pull away.
"Ms. Duvall seems in love with you, Ms. Aurora," Celeste remarked.
A dry laugh escaped me. "You could say that."
I pulled out my phone, jaw tightening as I reread the email: BioSynthix Pharmaceutical and Medical Group, Private Medical Wing: St. Moritz, Swiss Alps.