Chapter 37
My office hotline wouldn't stop ringing—media calls flooding in, each one demanding an exclusive about whether Dione was really my daughter with Sloane. The incessant buzzing made my head throb.
Groaning, I yanked the LAN cable from my landline and leaned back in my chair, shutting my eyes. A buzz from my phone made me crack one eye open. I reached for it, smirking as I answered.
"Sloey?" I muttered, closing my eyes again.
"Pops!" Dione's voice made me sit up straighter. I held the phone to my ear, a grin spreading across my face.
"Hey, sweetie," I said. "Were you with mommy?"
A hum on the line.
"Pops, are you still in your office? We're coming to visit!" Her voice was full of energy.
"Is that so?" I glanced at my wristwatch. "Alright, I'll wait for you here."
"Yay! I love you, Pops! See you!"
I laughed softly, sighing. "I love you more, sweetie. Tell mommy I love her too."
"I love you more," Sloane's voice chimed in from the line. "I'm driving to your office. I just picked up this young lady from horseback training, and she wouldn't stop insisting she see you."
I glanced out the glass window. "Lucky for you I don't have any meetings today," I said, clicking my tongue. "But the media won't leave me alone."
Sloane laughed softly. "Let's talk about that when we get there. I'm being pestered too. Anyway, I'll let you go. See you soon."
"Bye, Pops!" Dione giggled before the call ended.
I placed my phone back on the desk, sighing. Dione's energy always lifted my mood. I wondered, though, what she would feel if she knew I might not be around to see her grow up.
The thought made me bite my lower lip.
With the advancements in my therapy, I knew I could stay alive a few more years without complications, but.
.. I sighed, cutting myself off as I walked toward the floor-to-ceiling window.
Hands tucked into my pockets, I stared at the horizon.
"Leaving wouldn't be so hard if I hadn't married the woman I love.
If I hadn't needed help to save my company.
.." I laughed bitterly, my fingers tracing the glass as I glimpsed my faint reflection.
"But I can't leave them without giving them the best memories I can. "
A beep at the door made me turn, and Dione and Sloane stepped in. Dione waved before rushing toward me, and I moved to meet her halfway. I almost stumbled when she jumped into my arms, hugging me tightly.
I groaned, laughing as I wrapped my arms around her. Sloane shook her head, smiling at our antics. Once Dione let go, I guided her toward the couch where Sloane was already seated.
Sitting beside her, I rested my arm around her shoulders and crossed my legs. "So... what's the plan for this young lady here?" I nodded toward Dione. "Should we announce she's our daughter?"
Sloane placed her hand over mine. "I think we should. Maybe we can organize a proper event to introduce Dione to the elite."
I shrugged, glancing at Dione lounging on the couch across from us. "Sweetie," I called out with a smile, "do you want to design one of the dresses I'll be releasing in the fashion collection?"
Dione's eyes sparkled, her hands clasped to her chest. "Can I, really, Pops?"
I nodded. "Of course. As long as you want to, you can."
Sloane glanced at me. "Don't tell me—"
"Let's announce it during the after-party of the fashion show," I said proudly, looking at Dione, then back to Sloane. "The world needs to know we have a daughter, and she could be the next top fashion designer—if that's what she wants."
"Does that mean I get to see runway models, Pops?" Dione chimed in, grinning.
"Uh-huh, lots of 'em."
Sloane nudged me on the side, making me cough and laugh at the same time. "You only want to go to the fashion show so you can see a bunch of hot models," she rolled her eyes.
Her words made me chuckle. I leaned closer, whispering into her ear, "You know you're the hottest woman in my eyes. No one can beat you for that," I teased, gently nibbling her earlobe and watching her flustered reaction.
"Mommy's a little jelly, Pops," Dione teased, giggling as she removed her coat and folded it neatly.
My eyes squinted as I noticed some bruises on her arms. "What happened to you?" I asked, sitting up straighter, a knot forming in my throat as my mind raced through worst-case scenarios. Don't tell me—
"Ro, relax," Sloane said, patting my thigh with a reassuring smile. "Dione just had an accidental fall while riding her horse. She was checked for any fractures, but there's nothing wrong. Everything's fine."
"Are you sure?"
"Pops, this is nothing," Dione said, walking over to us. She stretched her arms toward me. "Look," she pointed to the bruises. "I lost my balance during practice and got knocked off, but I'm a strong girl, Pops. I didn't even cry."
I looked at her, then at her arms. My throat tightened as I reached out, fingers gently tracing the bruises. My illness... no, Dione doesn't have it. It's not even hereditary.
"Ro?" Sloane touched my shoulder, pulling me out of my thoughts. "Are you alright?"
I shut my eyes, heaving a deep sigh. When I opened them again, I offered a faint smile. "Yeah... I just got worried." I looked at Dione. "Are you sure it doesn't hurt too much? We could have our family doctor check you, maybe even run a routine test," I suggested.
Sloane sighed. "Darling, Dione's fine. I have her checked every quarter for tests and anything else. Besides, didn't I tell you? Nothing to worry about regarding her bruises."
"Mommy, Pops is overprotective just like you," Dione said, settling on my lap.
"Well, I'm sorry if I'm being overprotective, young lady," I said, tucking her hair behind her ear. "You're precious to me, just like your mommy is."
Sloane clicked her tongue, shaking her head. "We should head out for lunch. Pretty sure Dione wouldn't like it if her dinosaur pet inside her tummy got hungry," she teased, standing up.
"Mommy," Dione groaned, pouting as she followed.
I chuckled and stood, heading to my desk. "Let me grab my things," I said, picking up what I needed before walking toward the door where Sloane and Dione waited. "Let's go," I said, opening the door for them.
Sloane stepped out first, followed closely by Dione. I brought up the rear, making sure my office was locked. Celeste stood, giving us a subtle nod.
"Celeste, I'm heading out first—you know the routine. Call me if anything urgent comes up," I said. She simply smiled and nodded.
Dione reached out to hold my hand while her other hand found Sloane's. We walked hand in hand, Dione happily swaying our hands as we made our way to the elevator.
Employees around us couldn't help but sneak glances. Well... not entirely secret glances—it was obvious they were looking. I didn't care. I was just happy to be with these two incredible women beside me. Let them stare. Let them be envious.
?·???°???°???·?
After a long week of preparations, the after-party glittered beneath a hundred chandeliers, each crystal scattering prisms of light over Monaco's most elite. Champagne flowed, laughter echoed, and cameras snapped in every direction.
The moment I entered, the noise seemed to hush.
I stood tall in my midnight velvet three-piece suit, every movement deliberate, every detail sharpened into elegance.
Beside me, Sloane shimmered like sunlight reborn, her gown of liquid gold clinging to her frame, drawing every envious gaze.
The cameras flared, a round of applause swelling as if choreographed. I held my wife's hand, squinting as the flashes pierced my vision. "Ro," Sloane whispered, her tone warm with concern. "Feeling dizzy?"
I hummed in agreement, nodding faintly. "Must be fatigue from fashion week," I muttered, clicking my tongue. "But the flashes—they make it worse." Straightening my suit jacket, I exhaled slowly.
Sloane's smile softened as she released my hand, her palm gliding over my shoulder. Tilting her head, her eyes searched mine. "Later tonight," she teased, lips curving with promise, "I'll give you a massage."
I chuckled, leaning closer. "I'll be holding you to that," I murmured, grinning.
Her laugh was a soft bell, and she tapped the tip of my nose playfully.
Just then, a murmur swept through the crowd. A limousine pulled up before the entrance, its arrival pulling whispers from every direction. The media swarmed, eager for a headline.
My smile widened as Sloane's hand slipped back into mine.
From the car, Dione emerged, helped by her uncle Soeren and Millie.
My chest swelled at the sight—my daughter, radiant in her youth, her beauty reflecting her mother's grace.
For a moment, I felt every inch the proud parent, my world complete.
Sloane nudged me, leaning close until her lips brushed my ear. "Look at Dione," she whispered with quiet awe. "She doesn't even look like our daughter tonight... she looks like one of your new haute couture models."
I grinned as my gaze fell on our daughter, her silver gown gleaming as though she carried the moonlight itself. When they reached us, Soeren extended his hand and we shook firmly. Millie and Sloane exchanged cheek-to-cheek greetings, their smiles poised yet warm.
"Who's the girl?"
"A new model?"
"A muse?"
"Or maybe Ms. DeLacroix's protégé?"
Whispers rippled through the room as Dione stood before us, her half-masquerade mask only deepening the intrigue. Photographers scrambled, cameras flashing in rapid bursts.
Soeren and Millie excused themselves with graceful nods, heading to their assigned places.
Dione glanced at me, then at her mother, before taking her place between us—slightly ahead.
I stood on her left, just a pace behind, while Sloane mirrored me on her right, perfectly balanced, as if we were a tableau framed for history.
Together, we walked toward the raised platform, where the press wall gleamed with the name of my collection: éclipse de l'Aube—The Eclipse of Dawn. The host assisted Dione onto the platform, while I steadied Sloane with my hand.
In the center, we took our places. My gaze swept over the room—investors, critics, partners, rivals. Every glance was measured, every smile calculated.
The host handed champagne flutes to Sloane and me, and a glass of sparkling water to Dione. I raised mine briefly, then set it aside with a subtle nod.
Sloane, still holding hers, gave me the smallest of acknowledgments, though she did not drink.
I reached for the microphone. The room hushed. Every breath seemed to pause. Bowing my head in gratitude, I straightened and let my voice carry.
"Good evening, everyone."
The words echoed, clear and deliberate, filling every corner of the hall.
My eyes shifted to one particular table—the Petrous. My cousin Thalia sat there beside my father and his wife, surrounded by other family members I had invited. My smile held, though a sharper edge threaded beneath it.
"First of all, thank you for joining us tonight to celebrate the culmination of Fashion Week and the vision of DeLacroix Couture and Luxury House."
Camera flashes ignited once more, blinding for an instant, searing against my eyes.
I blinked against the bursts of light, giving a slight shake of my head before fixing my gaze forward.
"I would also like to extend a special thanks to our partners from Geneva, Switzerland.
A visionary designer and owner herself—please, everyone, let's give a warm welcome to Ms. Sienna Reed-Pierce, and her family who joins us tonight.
" I gestured toward their table, bowing subtly with a smile.
"And to our investors, partners, and esteemed guests—it is our honor to stand before you tonight and share an important chapter with all of you. "
A pause. Silence stretched, my words hanging in the air.
I glanced at Dione. She stood tall, confidence radiating from her young frame, the poise of someone born to the spotlight. Pride swelled in my chest as I turned back to the crowd.
"Tonight marks more than a collection," I began again, my voice steady, edged with conviction. "It marks a legacy. Thirteen years ago, I began this journey not only to create fashion, but to create meaning—a reflection of the eternal cycles of life."
I gestured to myself. "Dawn."
Then to Sloane, radiant in gold. "Sun."
And finally, I stepped closer to Dione, resting a hand lightly on her shoulder. "And moon."
Dione lifted her chin, crystals from her gown scattering the light like constellations.
The audience leaned forward, breathless, anticipating.
"Ladies and gentlemen..." I paused deliberately, sweeping my gaze across the sea of eyes. "This..."
At that moment, Sloane reached forward, gently removing the masquerade mask from Dione's face.
"...is my daughter. Our daughter—Sloane's and mine. She is Dione Duvall DeLacroix."
The reaction was immediate and explosive.
Gasps rippled through the grand hall. Cameras ignited in a frenzy of flashes, strobing across the chandeliers.
Somewhere in the corner, a young accountant from the finance team fumbled, his champagne flute shattering against marble as he gaped openly.
Whispers surged like wildfire—admiration, envy, disbelief, suspicion.
"So the rumors were true?"
"They've hidden a child all these years?"
"DeLacroix blood... in secret?"
Faces lit with awe while others darkened with calculation, already tallying what this revelation meant for alliances, inheritance, power.
Sloane stepped forward, slipping her arm protectively around Dione, her golden gown blazing like fire beneath the chandeliers. Her voice rang out, steady though tinged with emotion.
"For years, I have guarded her from this world, away from prying eyes and flashing cameras.
" She glanced at me, offering a faint, knowing smile before continuing.
"Aurora didn't know we had a child before we parted ways, but she deserves to know every truth.
And tonight," she paused, her gaze sweeping across the hall, "there will be no more hiding.
Dione—our daughter—will stand where she belongs. Beside her family."
A ripple of voices stirred the silence.
"I knew it! Look at the girl—she's a DeLacroix through and through. No way Ms. Duvall had a child with someone else, she's always been in love with Aurora!"
The words carried, unsubtle, almost meant to sting rivals within earshot.
I chuckled softly, my gaze sliding to the far corner.
Margot stood there, her smile brittle as porcelain, her mask of composure cracking just enough.
See? I wanted to tell her. Sloane never chose you—and she never will.
I gave her a cool nod before turning back to what mattered most: my wife, my daughter.
Dione's eyes darted between us, courage flickering in her young face. She stepped forward, and I pressed the microphone into her hand. Her small fingers tightened around it, trembling, but when she spoke, her voice carried clear across the hall.
"Good evening, everyone." She bowed politely before lifting her chin. "I'm Dione Duvall DeLacroix, and I am proud to be the daughter of Aurora DeLacroix and Sloane Duvall."
My chest swelled as she turned to look at us, her words breaking just slightly with emotion.
"I am proud they are my parents—the both of them." Her voice shook but held firm. "I love you, Mommy. I love you, Pops!"
The hall erupted—thunderous applause mingled with sharp whispers, warmth colliding with spectacle. Some clapped with genuine joy, others merely to save face for the cameras.
I scanned the crowd, and my eyes locked onto my father.
His expression was carved in stone, shock flickering in his gaze.
Then, slowly, deliberately, he smiled. A sharp, unreadable smile.
I answered with only the faintest curve of my lips and a curt nod, a silent challenge passed between us beneath the roar of the room.
"Good job, sweetie," I murmured, bending to press a kiss against my daughter's temple as Sloane rested both her hands gently on Dione's shoulders.
I straightened, reclaiming the microphone, my other hand finding Sloane's waist and pulling them closer to me.
"To set the record straight," I said, my voice ringing over the flashes, "yes—Sloane and I have a child.
Not born from scandal, not from betrayal, but from love.
And I expect no one—" my gaze cut like glass across the hall, "—to ever link my daughter or my wife to anyone else. "
The room lit up in a storm of camera flashes, blinding, dizzying. Yet in that glare, it felt as though we were being carved into eternity: the Dawn, the Sun, and the Moon—a trinity of love and defiance, unveiled to a world that would never again see us as before.
We moved toward our reserved table, only to see Thalia, my father, and his wife approaching. I held my ground, waiting. Thalia reached me first, grinning ear to ear as she threw her arms around me.
"Oh my gosh, Rory, I didn't know I had a niece from you!" She laughed breathlessly, turning to Sloane with a warm peck on her cheek before crouching slightly toward Dione.
"Hello there." She wiggled her fingers playfully. "I'm Thalia Petrou. Your Aunt."
Dione's smile was shy but bright. "Hello, Aunt Thalia."
Thalia clasped her hands against her chest, nearly swooning. "She's your mirror, Rory. She looks just like you!" She cupped Dione's face, her eyes shimmering with delight.
Beside me, Sloane laughed softly, curling her arm tighter around mine.
Then my gaze shifted, colliding with my father's. His expression was unreadable, his posture regal as ever. I drew in a slow breath, then turned to Dione.
"Dione," I called gently, breaking her attention from Thalia. "Go on, sweetheart. Give your grandfather a kiss."
Dione looked at me, then at my father. "Hello, Grandpopsy," she said, taking his hand and pressing a sweet kiss to it.
I turned to his wife, hesitating. "And... uh..." My throat tightened as I struggled for words. "Why don't you let Dione greet her step-grandmother too?" I forced a smile at my father's wife, then at Dione.
"Hello, Grandmomsy!" Dione chirped, kissing her hand. The moment made us pause. My father's wife laughed softly, cupping Dione's face as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
She mouthed a quiet "thank you" to me, and I subtly nodded. Dione continued chatting with them, her laughter filling the space. Sloane leaned her head on my shoulder, her gaze sweeping over the room.
For the first time in a long while, my heart felt calm—maybe even happy.
Hiding Dione from my father no longer felt necessary.
She deserved to exist fully, in the light, not as some secret.
After all, I had buried enough of my own secrets; my daughter would never be one of them.
The least I could do was let them see how proud I am of her, and how grateful I am to have Sloane by my side. I sighed, pressing a gentle kiss to Sloane's head.
"Thank you, Sloey," I whispered. "I'm forever grateful to have you back in my life—and for giving me our daughter." I looked down at her, and she met my gaze. "I love you so much."