Chapter 13
The room was silent except for the soft hum of monitors.
Glass walls looked out over the Swiss Alps, winter light filtering through, cool and sterile against the warmth of the suite.
I sat reclined, exhaustion pressing heavier than my own body.
My veins were bruised, my arm stretched along the rest, a thin catheter threaded into me.
My gaze followed the nurse as she hung the clear IV bag on its steel arm—blood-red liquid swirling inside. "It will feel just like a transfusion," she said softly, careful, almost reverent.
I hummed, nodding, eyes drawn to the window where snowflakes drifted down. Leaning my head against the rest, I closed my eyes. Her hand steadied my arm, but in my mind it was Sloane's touch instead, tracing over my skin, branding me whole.
"Everything looks good, Mademoiselle DeLacroix," the doctor's crisp accent cut through. I opened my eyes to meet his gaze. "This part will take a few hours. You may feel warmth, a flush... perhaps some pressure in your chest. We'll monitor you closely."
All I managed was a faint nod. My throat was dry. I had been preparing for this—the antiseptic smell, the hush of staff, every detail rehearsed.
"Do you have someone with you, Madame?" he asked, checking the monitors.
"I'm all alone," I said with a low chuckle, closing my eyes again. "My wife's managing our business." My voice cracked, hoarse.
He hummed in response.
The drip began, slow and steady, and I felt it threading into my bloodstream. Within minutes, heat unfurled in my chest—sharp, searing—spreading like fire beneath my ribs. My breathing hitched, pulse quickened, sweat breaking across my skin.
My hands gripped the armrest until my knuckles went numb.
I felt someone brushing the sweat from my skin.
I stayed still, eyes tightly shut, as unbidden memories flickered back—Sloane's laughter from years ago, the cruel way I had forced myself to walk away, and my mother's warning about the 'bloodline curse' I might carry.
"Breathe slowly. You're doing great," the doctor urged through the haze.
I forced a deep breath. The warmth sharpened, metallic, like iron in my mouth. My stomach lurched. I clenched my jaw, refusing to flinch. I would not let them see weakness. I was not born for it.
Hours stretched. The fire dulled to ash, replaced by crushing fatigue. When I finally opened my eyes, my reflection caught in the polished steel of the IV stand.
I swallowed. My eyes were no longer sunken, my lips fuller, tinted pink. The nurse's gentle smile met mine. "How do you feel, Madame?"
"Better," I whispered, forcing the word past my throat. My gaze slid to the window, the Alps vast and unreachable. "Just a little longer," I muttered to myself. "Let me shine again, before Sloane sees the cracks."
My body sagged as the nurse removed the catheter. I shifted, making my way to the bed.
"Your food will be brought shortly, Madame," the nurse said, pushing the stand aside.
I hummed in response, lowering myself onto the edge of the bed.
When I lay down sideways, she came to adjust the blanket over me. "Thank you," I murmured, meeting her eyes with a subtle nod. She smiled, excused herself, and left me alone.
I stared up at the ceiling, a faint smile tugging at my lips. My lids grew heavy, exhaustion slipping over me. For I don't know how long, I drifted—my body sinking, relaxing.
A sharp light cut across my face, pulling me back. Groaning, I opened my eyes. Sunlight spilled through the suite's curtains, gilding the sheets in soft gold. Slowly, I pushed myself upright, arms stretching high. No pain. No ache deep in my bones. No crushing fatigue.
"I felt... light," I whispered, lowering my arms to study my hands. I swung my legs over the side of the bed, bracing myself—but the familiar spin of dizziness never came. The sweats... gone. Nothing.
My attention caught a movement across the room, and I blinked before walking straight to it: a full-length mirror. I paused, staring at my own reflection.
My skin, once pale and waxen, now glowed with warmth. The purple hollows beneath my eyes were faint, nearly gone. My hair shimmered, sleek as silk. Trembling, I raised my hands to my face, pressing my cheeks. My lips curved into a soft, almost girlish smile. "Wow... I look... normal."
A buzz from the nightstand broke the spell. I turned, picked up my phone, and unlocked it. A message from Sloane.
Business trip surviving you, Aurora? Don't make me think you've gone weak from stress—it would be sad if I couldn't get my revenge.
A grin spread across my face. Sitting on the bed, I typed back: You'll see. I'll come back radiant—more radiant than ever.
With a sigh, I pick up my padded cashmere cardigan and slip it around me as I stand and walk to the window.
The Swiss Alps stretched out before me, glistening white and endless.
I knew this new glow of mine was nothing more than borrowed light.
If I were lucky, it would last for months before the shadows crept back in.
"Not yet," I whispered, clenching my fist. "I'm not leaving her... not yet."
As the sun warmed my skin, I smiled to myself. "Once I'm back, Sol, prepare your cards. I'll be more than willing to play along in your little game of revenge. So, enjoy it—while you still can."
?·???°???°???·?
Two weeks had passed, and I found myself standing on the porch of our house. A faint smile touched my lips as I scanned my access card, the lock clicking open, and I ushered my luggage inside. It was past midnight, and the house was dimly lit, silent except for the soft hum of electricity.
I closed the door, slid the lock into place, and pulled my suitcase toward the bedroom partition. The sliding door creaked softly as I shut it behind me and secured the lock. My steps slowed as I walked the hall, stopping just short of the master bedroom.
I raised my hand to knock—then froze. The door was slightly ajar. My heart gave a sharp kick. Reaching for the knob, I paused as a low sound carried through the gap. A moan. My pulse spiked.
"What...?" I whispered, pressing closer.
I peered through the crack, but the room inside was dark. My heart thundered, every beat echoing in my ears. Then her voice—ragged, husky, unmistakable.
"Yes... yes, that's it," Sloane's voice rasped, breathless.
My grip faltered on the small gift I had bought her in Switzerland. The box nearly slipped from my hands. I clenched it tighter, but her voice slithered into me—moans, gasps, a soft purr that clawed at my sanity.
"Please... fuck me more," she pleaded.
The words struck like a blade. My chest seized, pain pressing down a thousandfold. My lips twitched as I forced my breath steady. She brought another man into our house?
I staggered back, choking down the urge to burst inside.
Instead, I turned on my heel, every step weighted, and slipped into the guest room.
The suitcase tumbled from my grip as I shoved the door shut and locked it.
I placed the Reuge box on the nightstand with shaking hands, then collapsed onto the bed.
My knees buckled as I clutched my chest, dragging in shallow, frantic breaths.
"Why... why would she..." The laugh that escaped me was brittle, hollow. I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat impossible to ignore. "Right. Revenge. But even if I'm not around... does she really need someone else?"
Hot tears slid down my cheeks before I could stop them. I buried my face into my arms, curling into myself like a child, choking back sobs. I had planned to surprise her with my return. Instead, she had shattered me with hers.
Revenge without this would have been enough. Caging me in this marriage wasn't enough? Taking everything in the divorce wouldn't have been enough? Did she have to let another man inside her—inside our home?
Questions battered me, restless and merciless. How many times? Who was he? My thoughts spun until exhaustion finally dragged me under.
When morning came, I stared blankly at the ceiling, my body heavy with dread. Not fatigue—memory. My ears strained for any sound from the master bedroom. Silence. Was she gone? Or had they left together?
"Fuck it," I muttered, forcing myself up. I was still in yesterday's clothes, still tainted by last night, wrinkled from travel and grief.
My phone chimed. I pulled it out, the glow of the screen harsh in the dim light. Nine a.m. A bitter scoff tore from my throat as I read the notification.
Board meeting starts at ten. Will you attend online?
Sloane's message.
My reply was clipped, cold. Won't attend online. Carry on as usual.
"Now let me return to my empire," I whispered, venom on my tongue. "Let me surprise you this time. I want to see with my own eyes if he's beside you."
I left the guestroom and slipped into the master bedroom. The sheets were smooth, the bed pristine. I circled it slowly, hunting for anything—any trace of what I'd heard. My breath hitched as I checked the trash bin. Empty.
"No condoms?" I murmured.
My brow furrowed. "They didn't use protection?" What the hell are you even thinking, Sol?
I stormed into the bathroom, inhaling sharply, desperate to catch some lingering masculine scent. Nothing. Just sterile air and faint perfume.
"Goddamn it," I hissed. I stripped and showered quickly, letting the hot water scald my skin before dressing for the day.
When I reached the foyer, one of the housekeepers noticed me. She bowed deeply. "Ms. Aurora. Glad to see you back. We weren't informed of your arrival."
A faint, brittle smile formed on my lips. "I planned to surprise my wife," I said, clicking my tongue. Then, casually—too casually—I asked, "Did you notice if your Ms. Sloane invited someone last night?"
"Last night, Madame?" The woman tilted her head, eyes flickering as if sifting through memory. "No, I didn't see her with anyone. But..." She hesitated, glancing upward. "She was on the phone for a long time. Laughing, talking to someone. That's all."
My fist curled tight, nails biting into my palm. "I see." My tone was clipped. "Alright. That will be all."
I left through the garage, sliding into my car and gunning the engine. Fury surged through me, hot and uncontainable. I honked and weaved past cars, pushing the speedometer higher. The engine roared as I slammed into a stop in the headquarters parking lot.
I stepped out, slamming the door behind me, heels striking sharp against concrete as I strode to the lobby. Guards and staff immediately fell into line, bowing their heads. I didn't spare them a glance.
Inside the elevator, I straightened my blazer and forced my face into a mask of composure. Inside, though, I was burning. When the doors slid open, I stepped out before they were fully parted, striding toward the conference room.
Celeste nearly dropped the folders she held. "Ms. Aurora," she greeted with a hurried bow. "The meeting just started. Ms. Duvall is leading."
I only hummed in response, nodding as my heels echoed sharply across the marble.
Silence blanketed the conference room as I entered. Dozens of eyes turned to me, tension thickening like the air before a storm.
And then—her. Sloane sat at the head of the table, documents spread before her, a man at her side. She laughed softly at something he said, her head tilting, lips curling in that familiar, effortless smile.
My stomach dropped. That tilt. That smile. I knew them too well.
"Good morning," I said, my voice slicing through the quiet.
Every board member turned. Sloane froze for a heartbeat, surprise flickering in her eyes before her mask slipped seamlessly back into place.
"Ah, Aurora." She smiled sweetly, as if nothing had happened. "You're back earlier than expected. You should've told me—I would've picked you up."
I stared at her, unblinking. My jealousy, my rage, my suspicion—I didn't bother to mask any of it. My gaze slid to the man beside her.
Is he the one, Sol? The one you begged to fuck you last night? The words burned on my tongue, but I swallowed them back.
My fists clenched. I strode to my seat and dropped my laptop onto the desk with a sharp thud, making several board members flinch. The storm was here.