Chapter 15
As I was about to leave the bedroom hallway, I froze. Sloane was standing in front of me, about to enter the same hallway. Our eyes met, and simultaneously, we both took a sidestep in the same direction.
I blinked. She blinked. I took another step to the other side—she did the same. Clearing my throat, I angled my body, subtly gesturing for her to go first. She glanced at me, hesitated, then stepped in, moving past me without a word.
"Sol," I called softly, my voice catching. She paused, standing still, but didn't look back. "I'm heading out," I added.
She didn't react. She didn't answer. After a while, she walked on. I exhaled, pressing my lips into a thin line. After that night, we never spoke again. I avoided the master bedroom whenever she was around.
Not that she had approved me moving my things out—but she hadn't objected either. Days passed, and the silence was suffocating. I wanted to apologize, but the words wouldn't come. I shrugged off the thought, staring at the empty hallway. The master bedroom door clicked shut.
I heaved a sigh and walked away, heading straight outside. "If your Ms. Sloane asks where I went, tell her I'm visiting the Monaco Police Station," I instructed one of the housekeepers, moving toward the driveway.
Sliding into the driver's seat, I started the engine and buckled my seatbelt. I stole a glance at the grand foyer. Sloane was standing there, distant from the door. A faint, bittersweet smile tugged at my lips as I drove away.
Hands tight on the steering wheel, I pressed the gas pedal a little harder. "I should apologize... even after everything, I should've said the right words," I muttered, biting my lip as I focused on the road.
As I reached the Monaco Police Station, I parked in a nearby spot and stepped out. At the entrance, Catherine was waiting, a polite smile on her face as she bowed slightly.
"Ms. Aurora," she greeted. "I received the judge's approval for you to meet Monsieur Bianchi." She handed me a small envelope containing the official letter.
I took it, holding it firmly as we walked inside the station. Officers nodded as we passed. Catherine excused herself to speak with the chief, and after a short while, returned.
"Let's go, Ms. Aurora," she said, giving me a subtle nod. Two police officers walked ahead of us, guiding the way.
We reached the visitation room, and I took a vacant seat opposite the glass partition. Catherine settled in a corner nearby, while one officer stood a few feet away, observing.
The door opened, and the other officer who had accompanied us earlier stepped aside, ushering in a man in a crumpled polo shirt tucked into black trousers. His hair was streaked with gray, messy and slightly greasy, and tired eyes with dark circles stared back at me.
Marcello stood across from me, and his eyes widened as he bowed his head. "Mademoiselle," he greeted softly, then straightened and pulled a chair forward with his cuffed hands, sitting down.
"Monsieur Bianchi," I said, nodding subtly as I studied his face. Somehow, he seemed to have aged twice over.
"Ms. Aurora—" he began, but I raised a hand to stop him.
"First of all," I said, leaning slightly forward, "I'm so sorry for your loss, Monsieur Bianchi. I wasn't aware that your daughter had been diagnosed with an illness."
His eyes met mine, and a faint, tired smile crossed his face as he shook his head. "I know what it feels like to lose someone you love... and perhaps I understand why you needed the money," I mumbled.
I pressed on, my voice firm but measured.
"But... Monsieur, I could have tolerated a few thousand missing.
I could have covered it with other investments.
But billions? Missing from accounts, including statements and funds that were accounted for.
.. the trust you and my company placed in you—it wasn't just money, it was faith. "
Marcello wiped his face, shaking his head. "I'm so sorry, Ms. Aurora. I truly am. It's because of me that your family's empire almost collapsed. I failed you." His shoulders shook as he sobbed quietly.
I swallowed hard. I had grown up watching this man work alongside my mother. He had been kind, patient, guiding me on investments when I was young. He had taught me so much about the company, alongside my mother and grandmother's lessons. And yet... how had he betrayed us like this?
"You've been holding the five percent shares, Monsieur," I added. "And you have your own company under our umbrella. So why... why would you embezzle billions, cause employee layoffs, and ruin the stock value for our shareholders?"
"I didn't mean to," he said, his face reddening. "Ms. Aurora... believe me or not, I was set up. I was forced. Please... it wasn't my intention."
I raised my brow. "Set up? By whom, exactly?" I pressed.
He shook his head, silent. I sighed. "Monsieur Bianchi, please. Tell me the truth. I need to know."
"They're inside your company. Soon, they'll take control... everything," he said, his voice faltering. "Slowly but surely, Ms. Aurora. They'll betray you... drag you down with them." He wiped his face again. "It was my fault. I shouldn't have done it... I shouldn't have done it."
He muttered to himself repeatedly until he suddenly stood, leaning against the glass and shaking it. I flinched, staring at him in shock. "I was set up! It's a setup! They want me out of the company!" he roared, his usual calm replaced by something wild.
The police officers rushed forward to restrain him, while Catherine grabbed my shoulder. "Ms. Aurora, are you alright?" she asked.
I swallowed hard, standing frozen as they pulled Marcello back into the detention area. "Y-yeah," I whispered, my heart hammering.
"Ms. Catherine," I said, regaining some composure, "someone in the company might still be siphoning funds.
Check all accounts. Retrieve Monsieur Bianchi's company laptop and review his emails—I can request access from the tech team for the investigation.
We may need a judge's approval to comply with privacy laws. "
"I'll coordinate with the judge immediately, Ms. Aurora," she replied.
We left the station, but my mind was still racing, replaying every word Marcello had said. Someone inside the company? Who could it be? What exactly had they done?
"We need to act fast," I said firmly. "Time is limited, and I want this resolved immediately."
"Understood, Madame. Action will be taken right away," Catherine assured me.
?·???°???°???·?
Sitting on the couch in the living room, I threw my head back and shut my eyes. Sloane still hadn't come home. I had been waiting for hours—calling, messaging—but she wasn't answering. I'd been back for what felt like forever, yet not a word from her.
A faint mechanical clicking sound made me freeze. I sat up, eyes shifting toward the foyer. Is that Sol? I whispered to myself as I got up and walked over. Glancing at the security monitor on the wall, I spotted Sloane fumbling at the door.
"What the hell is she doing?" I muttered, frowning.
"Open sesame!" her voice rang out through the speaker, and I almost choked. She stretched her arm toward the door like she was casting a spell.
The keypad beeped an error. She groaned. "Come on! Open sesame!" she tried again, then knocked and banged on the door. "Open this!"
I rubbed my temple, half-laughing, and walked to the main entrance. When I opened it, I blinked at the sight before me. Sloane's arm was still stretched forward.
"Open sesame!" she repeated. Then she paused, blinking. "Oh! It opens," she mumbled, voice swirling from liquor.
She stumbled inside, kicking off her heels and walking barefoot. I clicked my tongue, shut the door, scooped up her shoes, and followed her. "Did you go out drinking?"
Sloane plopped onto the sofa, giggling. "Ah, it's fun. So much fun," she said, laughing as she brushed her hair back.
I crossed my arms, standing in front of her. "Sloane Duvall," I said firmly. "How the hell did you even manage to drive home?"
She tilted her head and pointed at herself. "I drove," she said, laughing. "And... oh! Are you a bartender? Bring me some more beer, please," she clasped her hands together like she was begging.
"No more liquor for you, lady," I sighed, setting her heels on the floor and sitting on the coffee table across from her. "Sol, why are you doing this? Who did you drink with?"
Her smile faltered. She frowned, blinking slowly, her face flushed. "You're like my wife," she laughed, but the sound broke into a sniffle. She wiped at her face.
Even in the dim light, I could see how shaken she was. "You know what?" she laughed again, then sniffled harder. "My wife—you know who my wife is?" She pointed vaguely in my direction, missing me entirely. "My wife is my ex," she giggled. "Funny, right?"
"Sol..." I leaned forward, about to stand, but froze when I saw the tears brimming in her eyes. "Sol, why—"
"You know what hurts the most?" Her voice rasped as she tilted her head, shoulders trembling. "It's not marrying her, knowing she never loved me. It's not even that she used me for her company's benefit."
My breath caught.
"It's that—even after knowing me all this time—she still thinks I'm the kind of woman who would sleep with other men."
I swallowed hard, blinking at her. "Sol, you're drunk..." I murmured, though my voice lacked conviction.
Sloane laughed playfully, but when she looked at me, her face was a mess of liquor-flushed skin and tears. Wet streaks cut across her cheeks, smudging everything.
"Can you imagine it?" she laughed again, licking her lips. "She said she heard me—in our room—pleading, begging someone to fuck me."
My breath caught. I stood abruptly. "Sol, let me bring you—"
"I didn't fuck anyone else," she snapped through sobs, her voice shaking. "Not before, not after. She's the only one who ever touched me. And yet she thinks I let someone else lay a hand on me."
I froze, staring at her like stone. "What...?" The word slipped out in a whisper.
Her tears kept falling, but she laughed anyway, a broken, trembling sound.
"She thinks that just because I was moaning, begging to be fucked, it meant I was with someone else.
When in fact..." She smacked her forehead, laughing bitterly.
"I was just touching myself that night! I didn't even know she'd come home—didn't know she'd hear!
" She stomped her foot like a child, drunk and furious.
The air left my lungs. My chest tightened. She wasn't with anyone else? My lips parted as I stared at her, shaken to the core.
"I hate her for saying those words," she muttered, wiping her face with trembling hands. "And I hate myself, because even after she accused me of that, I'm still willing to help her with her company."
She staggered to her feet, harshly dragging her sleeve across her wet cheeks. Her legs gave way, and I caught her before she fell.
"Sol," I whispered, gathering her into my arms. She sobbed against me, small and fragile despite all her fire. My chest ached. "I'm sorry..." I breathed as I carried her toward the master bedroom.
When I set her down on the bed, she pushed herself up unsteadily, legs wobbling. "Ah, I want a bath," she muttered, clumsily stripping off her clothes and letting them fall to the floor until she stood in nothing but her undergarments.
I swallowed hard, shaking my head, and swept her into my arms again.
"Hey! Where are you taking me?!" she protested, trying weakly to pull free, but I held her tight.
In the bathroom, I turned the faucet and let warm water fill the tub. Sitting on the edge, I pulled her closer into my lap, holding her still as her sobs softened into uneven breaths.
"I hate Ro," she whispered, voice cracking. "She left me saying I was only good for sex, that she only ever used me. But... why..." Her voice broke, trembling. "Why does it feel like she was lying when she said it?"
I bit my lip until I tasted iron, then shut my eyes. Wrapping my arms around her, I rested my chin on her shoulder.
"Because I am..." The words slipped out, low, barely audible. "It's not because I didn't love you, Sol." My throat burned. I let out a shaky laugh, knowing she was too drunk to remember. "In fact, I love you. I will love you for the rest of my days, my Sol."
I held her tighter, whispering against her damp skin. "It's not because I don't love you. It's because I carry my bloodline's curse. And I don't want you to suffer because of me."
Sloane mumbled through her sobs, words of hatred, words of heartbreak, but I only held her tighter. Because I didn't know how much longer I could keep this secret from her. And I didn't know how much longer I could keep her beside me.