Chapter 14
The conference room smelled faintly of fresh coffee and polished wood, a polished calm at odds with the tension that crackled in the air. Sloane and I locked eyes. Her brow lifted, head tilted—an unspoken challenge. My gaze slid past her, straight to the man seated beside her.
"I see we have company," I said, my tone polite but edged with suspicion. "Which of your associates is responsible for this?"
Sloane's lips pressed into a faint frown. "Aurora, this is... an investor. Mr. Silva is interested in joining the company. I thought you'd—"
The man stood quickly, bowing. "Hello, Ms. DeLacroix. A pleasure to meet you," he said with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"An investor?" I stepped closer. His Adam's apple bobbed as he loosened his tie and sank back into his chair. "Or some... other man? Because from where I'm standing, it looks suspiciously personal."
Silva shifted in his seat, awkward, caught in the middle. Sloane's jaw tightened. "Aurora," she said, voice firm as she rose to her feet. "It's strictly professional. Mr. Silva wants to invest in the company. That's all. I assure you, there's nothing personal here."
Sloane's voice wasn't defensive—it was maddeningly calm, steady, as if she had nothing to hide. That composure only stoked my irritation, heat crawling up my chest. My eyes narrowed, blazing.
"Really?" I let out a sharp, humorless chuckle, flicking my gaze from her to the man and back again. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks a hell of a lot more like you're inviting him into your private circle. Laughing at his jokes. Leaning in. Exchanging glances..."
She shut her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose, exhaling sharply. Patience was slipping. "Ro, that's enough. You're jumping to conclusions—again. If you'd listened instead of assuming the worst—"
My palm slammed onto the polished table. The crack echoed across the room, making Silva flinch. "Listen? I just got back from Switzerland! I come back to find another investor sitting here—without you telling me. Without my knowledge. And I'm supposed to what? Smile politely while you play games?"
Her gaze hardened, shoulders stiff as steel. "Games? I'm running this company as we agreed. Mr. Silva is legitimate. You are the one imagining a story that doesn't even exist."
Fury and hurt twisted in me, sharp as glass. I stepped closer, teeth gritted. "Do you realize how it looks? How it feels to come back exhausted and see the person you—" I stopped myself, tongue clicking. "Never mind. Maybe I'm overreacting." My voice dropped low, bitter.
Sloane studied me, gaze steady, unreadable. "No," she said at last, her voice like steel. "You're not overreacting. You're reacting to assumptions. And it makes me wonder... why am I even explaining myself to someone who refuses to listen?"
The silence that followed was suffocating. The board glanced between us, nervous, powerless, like people trapped in the eye of a storm. My fists curled at my sides. Sloane stood rigid, a coil wound tight.
I forced my voice calm, but it cut like glass. "We'll finish this discussion later. Privately." I swept my laptop off the table, the thud jolting a few board members. "Meeting adjourned." Without waiting for protest, I stormed out.
Celeste hurried after me, her heels clicking against the marble as we reached the elevator. "Ms. Aurora, are you all right?" she asked carefully.
I leaned against the steel wall of the elevator, staring at my fractured reflection in the polished metal. My mind was chaos. "Are the documents I need on my desk?"
"Yes, Ma'am."
"Good. I'll take them home. If anyone asks, tell them I had errands. I'll be back tomorrow."
"Understood, Ms. Aurora."
Twisting the knob of my office door, I strode inside and grabbed the portfolios from my desk. I didn't bother to sit. I just wanted to leave—get air, get away. I couldn't stomach the thought of seeing her. Seeing her with him.
Clutching the documents, I shut the door behind me and headed back toward the elevator. Celeste rose quickly, rushing to meet me. "Let me help you with that, Ms. Aurora," she said, reaching for the portfolios.
I managed a faint smile but didn't protest. We stepped into the elevator together. Celeste pressed for the lobby floor, standing neatly at my side.
"How long has Mr. Silva been visiting the company?" I asked, my eyes fixed on my reflection in the polished steel doors.
Celeste glanced at me, then back to the doors. "He came yesterday. Ms. Duvall gave him a tour, and they had a private discussion about the investments. She asked me to attend and take notes so I could brief you once you returned."
"Is that so?" I exhaled, the sound closer to a bitter sigh. "Then send me your notes, and if there's any formal documentation, email it to me."
She nodded just as the elevator chimed and the doors slid open. We crossed the lobby and stepped out into the parking lot. I unlocked my car, and Celeste carefully placed the documents in the back seat.
"Thank you, Celeste," I said with a curt nod.
She smiled softly, returning the nod, but my attention had already shifted.
Across the lot, Sloane stood beside Mr. Silva. I froze, hand on the driver's side door, as he slid into the back seat of a waiting car. She bowed slightly before him, and when the vehicle pulled away, her eyes found mine.
For a long, taut moment, our gazes locked—hers unreadable, mine burning. Then I looked away, sliding into the driver's seat. "Celeste, I'm heading out," I muttered, slamming the door.
She bowed once more as I pulled from the lot.
Alone in the car, frustration boiled over. I slammed my palm against the steering wheel, the sound ringing sharp in the confined space. A bitter laugh slipped from me. "I must've gone overboard," I muttered.
My voice cracked as the truth pressed down like a weight I couldn't shake. "I know she doesn't love me anymore... but I can't stop. I can't stop being afraid of the what ifs."
?·???°???°???·?
The moment I arrived home, I changed into something comfortable and locked myself in the study. I buried myself in the documents I had brought, reviewing, signing, marking improvements. Hours slipped away unnoticed until the pen fell from my hand.
Leaning back, I glanced at the clock. "Past eight already?" I whispered.
My eyes drifted to the door. Is she home? I pushed away from the desk and opened the door. Dim light spilled from the hallway. My steps slowed in front of the master bedroom. I stood there, sighing, before moving toward the kitchen—only to stop.
Sloane was sitting at the dining table.
Our eyes met. My throat tightened, and I was the first to look away. I walked into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and grabbed a bottle of water. Head down, I started toward the hallway, turning my back to her as I passed.
"Dine with me, Aurora."
Her voice made me flinch. I froze, the bottle cold in my grip.
I didn't turn. My gaze flicked instead to the housekeeper. "Bring my dinner to the study," I ordered flatly.
"Yes, Ms. Aurora—"
"She's not eating in her study." The screech of a chair cut her words.
I turned. Sloane was already standing, arms crossed, eyes hard. My chest constricted under her stare. "I told them already," I muttered, jaw tight. "I'll eat inside the study."
"No," she pointed firmly at the floor. "Here. Not the study. Here."
The silence stretched. Her voice sharpened, each word deliberate. "Do you need me to spell it out, Aurora?"
I sighed and gave in, stepping forward. Pulling the chair opposite her, I sat down. A housekeeper poured fresh juice. I gestured to her instead. "Move all my things from the master bedroom to the guest room. The one in the far corner."
"Yes, Ma'am," the housekeeper bowed, about to leave.
"You're not moving any of Aurora's things out of the master bedroom," Sloane interjected firmly.
My lips parted with a scoff. I licked the corner of my lips and set my utensils down. "What's wrong with me moving to another room? The things are mine, not yours." I picked my fork back up and sliced the chicken into small bites, spearing one and taking it into my mouth.
"Please proceed with moving my things," I ordered calmly before taking another bite.
The housekeeper hesitated, bowing again, about to retreat when Sloane's palm slammed the table. "Didn't you hear me the first time? Not a single thing leaves the master bedroom. Am I clear?" Her voice was steady, but every word carried an edge like sharpened steel.
I sighed, clicking my tongue as my gaze flicked to the housekeepers lingering nearby. "Leave us," I dismissed, waving my hand.
Once the staff slipped out, silence consumed the dining room, broken only by the scrape of my utensils against the plate.
"What is wrong with you?" Sloane asked, her gaze fixed on me.
I only shrugged, finishing my food. I unscrewed the cap of my water bottle, took a long gulp, then stood without sparing her a glance. Collecting my plate and cutlery, I walked to the kitchen and set them in the sink.
As I passed back through the dining hall, I felt her eyes on me—heavy, tracking me. But I didn't turn. I kept walking until I reached the far corner guest room.
I changed into silk pajamas and a shirt, moving through my nightly routine on autopilot. My plan was to return to the study and finish reviewing documents when my phone chimed.
A message lit up the screen.
Come to the master bedroom. Now.
Rubbing at my brow, I clicked my tongue and locked my phone, slipping it into my pocket. My gaze drifted to the wrapped gift on the bedside table. A bitter laugh escaped me as I snatched it up and headed to the master bedroom.
When I reached the door, my hand froze on the knob. I didn't twist it. What if her man's inside? What if...
My jaw clenched. I shut my eyes tight, forcing air into my lungs. Then I knocked once before finally twisting the knob.
Inside, the room was empty—except for the faint sound of running water from the bathroom. I closed the door behind me and set the gift carefully on the console table.
At the edge of the bed, I stopped. The blanket lay smooth, unwrinkled, untouched. My chest tightened. But last night... I heard her here. The sounds. The pleas. The moans.
I swallowed hard, throat thick, and turned to leave just as the bathroom door clicked open.
"Ah, you're already here."
Her voice was casual, light. A sweet, familiar scent followed her into the room.
I turned, and there she was—Sloane, wrapped in a robe, damp strands of hair falling to her shoulders. For a moment, I couldn't look away. Then I forced my gaze elsewhere, anywhere but her.
"What the hell is your problem, Aurora? You've been acting strange.
" Her tone was even, almost too calm, as she stepped closer.
I felt her warmth before her hand cupped my cheek, coaxing me to meet her eyes.
"And why didn't you tell me you were coming back?
You should've let me fetch you. When did you arrive? "
My lips twitched. I swatted her hand away. She blinked, scoffed softly, and let out a deep sigh. "What's with this attitude?"
"Why did you do it?" I tried to sound neutral, but my voice cracked, bitter spilling through every word.
Sloane's gaze locked on mine, her brow furrowing.
"Do what?" she asked, one eyebrow arching.
Then she sighed, shutting her eyes for a moment, fingers pressing the bridge of her nose before she looked at me again.
"I'm sorry if I didn't tell you about Mr. Silva, alright?
I even messaged you today, asked if you could join the meeting online, and you said you couldn't. I was planning to—"
Her words cut off when I yanked her toward me, my hands gripping her arms. Her eyes widened.
"Why, Sol?" My voice broke. "Why would you do it—right here, in this room?"
Her brow furrowed deeper, confusion hardening her features. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"Who is it, Sol?" My teeth ground together.
"Who fucked you last night? Who was it? Was it Mr. Silva himself?
" My voice rose, jagged, as I fought not to collapse under the weight of my own words.
"Why? Why would you beg someone else to fuck you in our home—in our bed?
This is my room too. So why?" My throat tightened, voice cracking into rage and desperation.
"Why would you let another man touch you when I'm here?
When I could fuck you until you can't even breathe if you wanted—"
The sting came sharp and sudden. My head whipped sideways.
Another slap followed, harder, her wedding ring slicing my skin. The burn spread hot across my cheek, blood prickling beneath the surface. Then one more slap—the crack of her palm echoing in the silence.
My face throbbed. My ears rang. But the pain was nothing compared to the hollow tearing in my chest—the thought of her with someone else.
"Is that how low you think of me now?" Sloane's voice shook, her breath ragged.
"What is this, Aurora? Just because I handed you some investors, you think you can treat me like garbage again?
After everything, you reduce me to that?
" Her hands shoved me hard, making me stumble back, but I caught myself.
When I lifted my eyes to her, I saw hers burning—wet, furious, glistening with tears she refused to let fall.
"You," she jabbed her finger into my chest, each word sharp as glass, "come back from Switzerland and the first thing you give me is accusations?"
"That wasn't an accusation!" I snapped. My voice cracked despite my effort to hold steady. "I was here last night. The door was slightly open. And do you know what I heard when I was about to surprise you? You—moaning, pleading for someone to fuck you harder."
I grabbed her arms again, dragging her closer until our breaths collided.
"Am I not enough, Sol? Is my body not enough?
I have what any man does; I can give you the same, more if you'd let me!
So what else do you need?!" My voice shattered, tears finally spilling as my grip faltered.
"Do you know what it feels like to hear you getting railed by someone else?
You're my wife. We're married. And I understand.
.." My voice hitched as I dropped my hands, head lowering.
"I understand that maybe all you ever wanted from me was revenge—for what I did twelve years ago. And fine. I get it. But was cheating part of that revenge, Sol?"
When I finally looked at her, Sloane's lips parted, shock flashing across her face.
"Who is he, Sol? Someone you know? Someone I know?" My chest burned, pressure building until it felt like my ribs would snap. "Wasn't it enough that I agreed to all your terms? That I signed everything without question? So why—why would your revenge include this?"
I pressed a trembling finger to my chest. "It hurts here, Sol. Because even knowing you only wanted to punish me, I was still hoping... still hoping we could try again. That I could fix what I broke. So why?"
"I didn't," she said softly, stepping closer.
Her voice was almost a whisper. "Why are you acting like I'm the one who hurt you when it was you, Ro?
You used me for four years. You're the one who walked away in the rain.
You're the one who—" She stopped, a bitter laugh escaping, her voice splintering.
"Isn't it enough that you left me twelve years ago? Isn't it enough that you ruined me back then? And now you want to ruin me again with your words?" Her shoulders shook. "Are you really this heartless?"
"That was twelve years ago!" I hissed.
"You're right!" she shot back. "It was twelve years ago—but the pain you carved into me?
It's still here!" She jabbed her chest, tears brimming.
"You're hurt? Good! Feel it—feel the same pain I've carried since you left me behind after wasting four years of my life!
" Her fists pounded against my chest as she sobbed.
"You ruined me when I gave up everything for you. You abandoned me when I was ready to stay, ready to grow old with you!" Her fists weakened but she kept hitting. "And now you dare to stand here acting like you're the victim?"
"I'm not acting like a victim!" I shouted back. "Sol, do you even hear yourself? You cheated! You're my wife, and you let another man—"
Her fists stilled. Slowly, she looked up at me, her tears cutting through fury.
"Tell me," I pressed, voice rough as I yanked her closer by her hair. "How good was he? Did he make you cum? How long has it been going on?"
Sloane stared straight into my eyes, then gave a broken laugh.
"Is that all I am to you? Just a body to measure against another man's?
My value as your wife reduced to this?" She shoved me back, her laughter snapping into raw anger.
"If you wanted the truth, Ro, you could've asked me—directly.
But no. You humiliated me in front of the board.
You cut me down before strangers, and now you stand here demanding answers you don't even want to hear. "
"What for?" I spat. "So you could spin excuses? Twist the story?" My hands shook as I turned, snatching the gift from the console table and thrusting it against her chest. "Here. I was going to give this to you last night. But thank you, Sol, for giving me your own surprise instead."
"Ro..." Her voice broke as she clutched the gift.
"is this your idea of love? Cutting me open again and again while I keep taking it?
Is this all I am to you?" Her eyes glistened as she stepped closer.
"Do you think I don't know the weight of your words?
Do you think I don't feel every knife you twist in me? "
When our eyes met, my chest clenched. In her gaze, I saw the same pain from twelve years ago—raw, unhealed, bleeding.
"You still see me as that same girl, don't you?" Her voice cracked. "The Sloane you could use whenever you wanted. The girl beneath you in status, in worth, who should just be grateful you touched her at all."
I froze, rooted to the floor, unable to move.
She turned her back, placing the gift on the bedside table before coming to stand in front of me again. Without a word, she reached up and brushed the tears from my cheeks.
That single act broke me. My sobs tore free, my lips pressing desperately against her hand.
She gave me a faint, trembling smile, wiping more tears away. "Don't cry over me, Ro. Not for me. Save your tears for someone you truly loved... not for the girl you only ever used for sex."