Chapter 41
Standing before the mansion I had never stepped into all my life, I clutched the food basket tighter, my knuckles whitening around its handle.
A nudge drew my gaze to Thalia, who was grinning from ear to ear. "You know, you could ease up," she teased. "The way you're standing makes it look like the house is about to swallow you whole."
I swallowed hard, ready to snap back, when the front door opened. A woman blinked at me, surprise flickering across her face.
"Hello, ma'am," I said quickly, bowing. My voice sounded stiff to my own ears. "I'm so sorry for coming unannounced."
Her eyes softened. She pulled the door wider. "Aurora..." she murmured, then glanced inside. "You must be looking for Henri—your father, right? He's not here yet, but he'll be around soon. Come in, both of you."
Hearing that my father wasn't home, relief fluttered in my chest. Thalia gave me a playful push. "Come on, Rory," she urged with a soft laugh, and we stepped into the house.
My heart pounded as I looked around. The mansion was modern, bright, alive with voices drifting from nearby rooms. It felt... too full of life for me.
"Auntie Claudine," Thalia said lightly, glancing around, "do you have visitors?"
"Well, the kids are here," Claudine replied, smiling. "That's why it feels so lively." Then her gaze turned to me, warm but searching. "Do you want to meet your siblings?"
I froze, my throat tightening. Slowly, I shook my head. "I think I'll stay here. They don't exactly know me... and I only came for my father." I forced a small smile, lifting the basket. "But I brought some snacks."
Claudine tilted her head, amused. "You know you don't have to, right? Still, thank you." She took the basket and handed it to a nearby housekeeper before facing me fully.
Her smile softened, almost secretive. "Actually, Aurora... my children do know you. They know you're their half-sister." She paused, watching my face. "Henri's been talking about you the whole time, you know."
My body stilled. I stared at her, Claudine's words echoing in my head. Why would my father talk about me to his children? It didn't make sense.
"Come, Aurora," she urged, already walking ahead.
Thalia's hand slipped around my wrist, her grip both grounding and insistent. "Come on, Rory. Just meet them." She tugged me gently down the hall until we reached a door cracked open, voices spilling out into the house like sunlight.
Claudine knocked softly before pushing it wide. "Alright, ladies and gents," she announced, clapping her hands once. Her eyes flicked to me, then she beckoned us forward.
Inside, three figures froze mid-game, eyes swiveling toward the doorway.
"We have guests," Claudine said warmly.
"I'm sure most of you know them already.
" Her gaze swept to her children. "I know you've met Thalia ever since you guys are young, and.
.." She hesitated just a moment before settling her eyes back on me.
"We also have here, your Papa's first daughter. Aurora."
"No way!" The young man shot up from his chair, disbelief flashing across his face. "Ma—don't tell me that's the Aurora DeLacroix?"
Claudine chuckled softly, nodding. "Yes. The very one."
"For Pete's sake." He hurried over, hand outstretched, beaming. "It's really a pleasure to meet you in person. I'm Alain."
I blinked, then reached out and shook his hand. "Hi. It's nice to meet you, Alain."
Claudine's smile softened, pride lingering in her eyes. "Alain's our eldest. He's in his final year of college, studying fashion design. He's always admired your work."
"Ma!" Alain groaned, face flushing, though his grin didn't falter. "But she's right—I do love your collections. They're incredible. And now to find out you're my sister? That's... honestly amazing." He laughed nervously and retreated back to his seat.
Claudine shook her head affectionately before turning to the others. "This young lady here is Claudette, our college freshman."
"Hi!" Claudette waved shyly, her smile warm but reserved.
I nodded back gently. "Hi."
"And this one," Claudine continued, ruffling the hair of the youngest, "is Henri Junior. Our baby of the family. He's in secondary school."
The boy rolled his eyes at the introduction, but I managed a smile, even as my heart pounded hard in my chest.
"It's a pleasure to meet you all," I said, lifting a hand in a small, awkward wave.
Claudine glanced at me as we walked, her tone gentle. "Do you want to play with them while waiting for your father?" She nodded toward the entertainment room, where Thalia was already laughing with the three.
I pressed my lips into a thin line and shook my head. "I think I'd rather wait for Papa outside." My smile barely held.
She hummed, nodding once. "Thalia, kids," she called back lightly, "Aurora and I will leave you here. Have fun!" With a small wave, she closed the door behind us and steered me down the hallway.
We walked in silence until the garden opened up before us, bright and manicured.
Claudine led me toward a shaded cabana and motioned for us to sit.
A housekeeper appeared at her gesture, and she quietly asked them to bring refreshments.
Then she turned, her gaze steady, her tone soft but firm.
"You know, your father has always been proud of you, Aurora." Her words carried no bitterness, only reassurance.
I let out a sharp scoff, my eyes fixed ahead. "Is that so? Then why wasn't he there for a single important moment of my life?" My tongue clicked against my teeth.
She let the silence hang for a moment, her sigh drifting into the air between us. "I don't think it's my place to tell you everything. But as your father's wife, I suppose I have the right to defend him."
Her words made me frown, my head snapping toward her. "What do you mean?"
Claudine gave a faint smile and crossed her legs, posture straightening as if bracing herself. "Didn't your mother ever tell you about the clause in their divorce agreement?"
Confusion pinched my brows. "What does that have to do with him being absent my entire childhood?"
"Figures," she said with a hollow chuckle. Her gaze lifted toward the sky, voice quieter now. "Aurora, before your father and I became husband and wife, we were friends. Your mother knew me personally."
I blinked, my head snapping toward her. Claudine turned fully to face me, her eyes scanning my face as if weighing how much truth I could take.
"Henri.
.. your father," she began softly, "left because he was trying to save your mother.
The moment Henri learned Eléonore had leukemia, he flew out of the country, searching for a cure—connections, anything to prolong her life.
He did everything he could." She paused, eyes flicking away as though the memory still unsettled her.
"But when he came back..." her mouth flattened into a thin line, a hollow chuckle breaking through. "Do you know what greeted him? A divorce paper. Signed by your mother."
For a heartbeat, my chest stopped rising. "...What?" My voice came out as a thin thread of sound.
Claudine's smile stayed, but sadness dulled its edges.
"I'll bet Eléonore told you he left you, didn't she?
" Her fingers curled together. "I know because Eléonore used to be my best friend.
Henri didn't want to sign the papers. He begged not to.
But she made him. Told him to stay away.
She said her sickness would ruin both of them.
And in that agreement, Aurora..." Claudine's gaze met mine, unflinching.
"...he gave up his rights. To see you. To be your father. "
"You're lying." The whisper scraped out of me before I could stop it. My eyes burned. My hands trembled.
She scoffed softly.
"What could I possibly gain by lying to you?
" Her hand slid over mine, warm but heavy.
"Your father gave up his rights because Eléonore asked him to.
Because DeLacroix needed an heir—and that heir was you.
The company needed you more than he did. "
Her voice gentled, a faint smile flickering. "I can't blame your mother, you know. She loved him. She pushed him away to keep him from destroying himself. She watched him break, running himself into the ground to find a cure that didn't exist. So she let him go."
My free hand rose to my chest, clutching at the ache there as the air seemed to thin around me. My mouth opened to speak, to shout, but no sound came out—only the pounding of my heart, echoing in my ears like a war drum.
"You see, Aurora," Claudine continued softly.
"Your father lost himself after divorcing your mother.
And I..." she hesitated, swallowing hard.
"I was asked by your mother to stay beside him.
We didn't have a relationship at first." A faint, rueful smile crossed her lips.
"But over time, strange feelings grew. Henri and I married years later—no contact with your mother after that. "
I hadn't realized I was crying until she reached out and wiped a tear from my cheek.
"Listen, Aurora. Your father never stopped loving you.
After the divorce, he wrote you letters, bought gifts for your birthdays and Christmas every year.
.. he just never sent them. He kept them all. "
Claudine kept wiping my face, but my tears only came faster. Why would my mother lie? Why would she hide all of this from me?
"Your father is a good man, Aurora," she murmured. "Your mother may have painted him otherwise, but maybe it was for you—to make you strong, to make you stand on your own feet. To make you better."
I laughed hoarsely, looking away. "Better? How is it better when I have the same illness as my mother? How is it better when I'm dying just like her?"
Claudine froze, her hands still cupping my face.
"What?"
The voice sliced the air, deep and shaken.
Both Claudine and I turned. My father stood a few feet away, his face pale, his eyes wide as if the ground had shifted under him.
"Henri..." Claudine rose quickly, glancing between us.
"Rory," he said, stepping toward me, each movement stiff, his breath audible. "What did you just say?"
I stood, swiping at my tears. My throat closed around the words. I forced a brittle smile. "Nothing," I said, but my voice cracked, betraying me.
"No, I heard you." My father jabbed a finger at me. "You have what—Leukemia? Just like your mother?"
"Henri..." Claudine moved quickly, placing herself between us, palms raised. "Calm down. Maybe Aurora can... go back to therapy, right?" She glanced at me, worry etched across her face.
I shrugged, biting back a bitter laugh. "I've been in therapy for over a decade. It doesn't work anymore."
His face shifted—shock, then something else. Something I couldn't name. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
I tilted my head. "I don't exactly broadcast it. Aside from Thalia, no one knows." I let out a breath. "It's fine. I'm not afraid of dying. Leukemia's terminal. Therapy only prolongs what's inevitable."
"There must be options," he said quickly, his voice cracking. "We'll find them—"
I cut him off with a faint smile. "Don't worry. My doctor said there are other options. I'm still... deciding."
"What?" Claudine's voice was small, almost breaking. "Why would you even hesitate, Aurora?"
"Because I'm tired.
" My voice came out flat. "Tired of the symptoms. The tests.
The waiting. I'm not young anymore, and I've already accepted what's coming.
" I stepped back, putting distance between us.
"I only came to tell you, Pa. You needed to know.
But don't tell anyone else. Not even Sloane knows. "
I bowed my head and turned for the door. They called my name, but I didn't stop.
When I reached our home—mine and Sloane's—it was still empty. Still no Sloane.
But that night, when sleep finally dragged me under, I dreamt of her: smiling, holding me close, like I was her entire world. Like nothing else—no Margot, no revenge—had ever mattered.
?·???°???°???·?
Leaning back in my chair, I stabbed a slice of pineapple and popped it into my mouth. The sweetness turned flat on my tongue as I caught Thalia watching me, grinning like she knew something. I arched a brow at her, shrugging.
"It's your birthday tomorrow, Rory," she said, glancing around the dining room. "Haven't you decided to settle things with your wife?"
My fork hovered above the salad bowl. For a moment, I just stared at her before lowering my gaze and stabbing at the lettuce. I shoved a forkful into my mouth, chewing slowly, anything to avoid answering. After all, I doubted Sloane still cared after the fight.
"And?" I said finally, my tone flat. "I know when my birthday is, Thalia. What does that have to do with Sloane?"
"Rory..." She sighed, clicking her tongue. "I know Sloane made a mistake, but she's still your wife. You need to talk this through."
"No." I swallowed hard, then reached for my water glass.
The coolness did nothing to wash down the bitterness in my throat.
I set it down with a deliberate slam. "The moment I saw her with Margot in that suite—and she didn't even try to step away—that's the moment she stopped being my wife. "
Thalia blinked, tilting her head. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying exactly what you heard." I stabbed at the salad again, focusing on the crunch of vegetables rather than her stare. I hadn't seen Sloane since the argument in my office. She hadn't come home either.
Thalia groaned and leaned back, arms crossed tight. "The media's already circling with rumors, Rory. If you don't get ahead of this, it'll turn into a mess. Why not just clear it up?"
"Why should I?" My voice sharpened. "Why is it my job to fix what she broke? I wasn't the one caught in a suite with someone else."
"You keep saying that, but your eyes betray you," Thalia murmured. "You know you still love her, Rory. And yet here you are, pride swelling, holding it in... until what? Until you both just give up and fall apart? Shall I remind you—you have a daughter."
My chest tightened at the thought of Dione. I set the bowl down, wiping my lips with a napkin. I stared at Thalia for a long moment before exhaling, a hollow laugh escaping me. "Maybe the only thing holding this marriage together... is Dione."
A faint, bitter smile spread across my lips as I leaned back, arms crossed. "It's my fault, anyway. I shouldn't have agreed to her terms. Let myself sink into bankruptcy just to appease her."
"Rory," Thalia hissed, exhaling sharply. "Didn't Sloane know you were the one funding her company all along? You've pulled every connection, under your name, under a pseudonym, to help her. So... why aren't you doing anything to get her back?"
I froze, hands rubbing over my face. "She doesn't need to know, Thalia. I'm dying. What's there to fight for? If she wants to be with Margot, then... fine. I'll step aside."
Thalia opened her mouth to argue, but her eyes caught something on her phone. She gasped sharply, covering her mouth with one hand.
"What is it?" I asked, frowning.
She turned the phone toward me. I squinted, trying to focus, then yanked it into my hands. The video replayed on the screen.
My chest tightened, my stomach dropped. I had said I'd stay out of their way... but seeing it—the choice, the closeness—it felt like a knife twisting inside me. Is Sloane really... choosing someone else over me?
On the screen was a video from social media. Sloane was in a heated fight with a woman at a yacht bar, while Margot tried to intervene. All my resolve shattered as I gripped the phone tightly.
"Rory," Thalia called, her voice soft but urgent. I looked at her, my eyes burning, blinking rapidly to clear them. "Aurora..."
I cleared my throat and handed her phone back, forcing a faint, brittle smile.
"Look, that might be fabricated, okay?" Thalia reasoned, slipping her phone into her pocket. "Why don't you talk to your wife first? Maybe Sloane has a reason—maybe that woman provoked her, or maybe it's just a fake news setup. Maybe—"
"Or maybe," I interrupted, my laugh bitter and hollow, "she's fighting with that woman in public because she's jealous to see Margot with someone else. That makes more sense, right?"
Numbness washed over me. My heart pounded violently, my head throbbed, my legs felt weak. I sank into my seat, tugging at my hair, staring at the floor. Why... why had I held onto hope that Sloane would come back to me?
My tears finally broke through. I sobbed, half-laughing, half-crying, head bowed, jaw clenched, trying to stop the flood—but my body betrayed me, as it always did.
"Rory," Thalia rushed to my side, sitting down beside me, her hands cupping my face. "Come on. Don't jump to conclusions. Talk to her first."
I shook my head, letting a faint, broken smile escape. "I've made up my mind, Thalia," I whispered, voice cracking. I couldn't swallow; it felt like a massive thorn lodged in my throat. "I... I'm getting a divorce."
Thalia stared at me, stunned. "You what?" she hissed, shaking her head. "No. No, definitely not. Talk to your wife first before you make any decision."
I shoved her hands away, my chest heaving. "You're my cousin, Thalia!" I snapped, standing up so fast the chair screeched against the floor. My finger trembled as I pointed at her. "You're supposed to be on my side!"
She shot to her feet, glaring back at me. "I am on your side, Rory! But this—" she gestured wildly, her voice cracking, "this rash decision won't solve anything! What if it's all a misunderstanding? Sloane might have her reasons!"
"And I don't have a reason to get a divorce?
" I barked out a laugh, my vision swimming with tears.
"I feel like I'm being played! Look at that video—does it have anything to do with me?
No. That's Margot she's protecting. That's Margot she's with right now!
If she wants to replace me, fine, let her.
But I'm done. I'm done with this—done with everything! "
Thalia's face softened, but her voice was sharp. "If you do that... you might lose your rights to your daughter. Can you please think this through first?"
Her words froze me in place. My knees buckled, and I sat back down, wiping my face harshly with my palms. My elbows sank onto my knees, my hands cradling my head.
"I'm already dying, Thalia," I whispered, my voice muffled by my hands. "What am I about to lose when I'm already losing everything?"
I looked up at her.
I didn't know how I looked—wrecked, probably—but I didn't care anymore.
"I'm dying. That's the truth. So why should I stay when it's already tearing me apart?
I don't have much time left. Should I just stand by and watch everything that's supposed to be mine slip away?
Or should I be the one to step back and give them their freedom before it's too late? "
Thalia knelt in front of me, her tears spilling freely as her breath hitched.
She sniffled, burying her face against my knees like she could anchor me in place.
"Rory..." her voice cracked. "Hiding your illness from everyone—it's exhausting, I know.
But seeing you like this..." She paused, swallowing a sob. "What do you really want to do, huh?"
Her question made my eyes drift to the photo on the wall.
The three of us. Me, Sloane, and Dione. A frozen moment of happiness—our smiles bright, our arms around each other.
A family that had once felt unbreakable.
But now... would my family still come first if it's already splintering, if someone else is already prying it apart?
"I love her, Thalia," I said at last, my voice low but steady. "I love Sloane so much. And I love Dione too." My gaze stayed on the picture, tracing the edges of that frozen smile. "But... is love really enough to make me stay? Neither of them even knows I'm dying."
My lips curved into a small, brittle smile. "Maybe it's for the best if I divorce her now. Transfer everything to them. Leave Monaco. Let them move on without me. And wait for the day I die... quietly. Without them ever knowing."