Chapter 42
The hushed whispers of the directors pulled my attention to the empty seat on my right—Sloane's seat. I exhaled softly, remembering her curt reply to my email about this emergency meeting.
Lifting my head, I scanned the room. Every pair of eyes was on me, heavy with unspoken questions about the rumors swirling around my wife.
I set my pen down and laced my fingers together, committing their faces to memory.
"Everyone," I began, voice steady. "I know this meeting was called suddenly, and I know you're curious about the reason. I'd rather you hear it from me than from anyone else." A faint smile curved my lips, though it didn't reach my eyes.
One of the directors raised his hand. "Aren't we going to wait for Ms. Duvall before we proceed?"
My gaze flicked back to the empty seat, then returned to him. I smiled again, restrained. "Ms. Duvall won't be joining us. She has a parallel meeting at her own company. I'll relay today's discussion to her afterward."
He nodded, and the room quieted once more. I drew in a breath and straightened.
"Now—back to what I was saying. Effective immediately, I am resigning from my position as CEO of DeLacroix Couture and Luxury House."
Gasps rippled around the table. Shocked glances darted between me and one another.
I raised a hand, silencing their questions.
"I know this comes suddenly, but it's a decision I've been finalizing for months.
The new CEO will be announced soon. From this point forward, all financial management will be overseen by Ms. Sloane Duvall alone.
I will no longer handle board meetings. My role will remain solely as creative director. "
"But...
would it be beneficial if Ms. Duvall takes part in that?
" one of the directors asked hesitantly, glancing at me.
"Not to invalidate your reasons, Ms. Aurora, but with the news circulating about your wife.
.. do you think resigning and handing over the reins, while leaving management to her, is a wise move? "
I tilted my head, a faint smile tugging at my lips.
"I believe the news hasn't been properly addressed by the parties involved.
Why don't we wait for them to speak before we pass judgment?
Besides, our company isn't directly tied to the issue.
The incoming CEO has no connection to Ms. Duvall's company—they are an independent leader I personally selected and trained.
As for financials, Duvall Capital Group is currently rising above everyone else in the industry.
It's only natural that Sloane, as both our top shareholder and an unmatched financial strategist, take over that responsibility. "
I closed the portfolio in front of me with a soft snap. "Since Ms. Duvall isn't here, consider this a heads-up. The final word will be hers, and whatever decision she makes will be irrevocable."
I stood, offering a small bow. "Thank you, everyone. The meeting is adjourned."
Without waiting for their reaction, I gathered my things and strode out, Celeste close behind.
"Ms. Aurora," she called softly as we reached my office.
I glanced over my shoulder, pausing at the door.
She looked around to ensure we were alone, then stepped closer.
"The media is swarming outside. They're demanding your statement about the video circulating right now. "
"Ah." I hummed, nodding once. "I'll handle it myself. Thank you, Celeste." I dismissed her with a wave, moving to my desk to slip my belongings into my bag.
But when I looked up, Celeste was still rooted to her spot. I arched a brow. "Celeste? Is there something else?"
She clutched the folder tightly to her chest, her voice low but trembling. "Are you really resigning from being CEO, Ms. Aurora?"
My body stilled, then I straightened and forced a smile. "Yes," I said quietly. "I made that decision, and it won't change. But—" I gave a small shrug. "Sloane will still have to agree to it. Regardless, my choice is final. I'm stepping down."
Celeste looked at me for a long moment before walking forward. Her cheeks flushed as she extended a small gift bag I hadn't noticed she was holding.
I blinked, glancing from her hand to her face.
"Happy birthday, Ms. Aurora," she murmured. "It's not much, but... it's something I could afford with my salary."
A laugh slipped out of me, unguarded and real. I accepted the bag and nodded. "Thank you, Celeste. That's thoughtful of you. I appreciate it—truly."
She smiled, bowed, and excused herself.
I sighed, sliding the gift bag into my tote before slinging it over my shoulder. Stepping into her office on my way out, I waved. "Celeste, I'm heading out." I didn't wait for her reply.
In the elevator, my hand curled tightly around the strap of my bag. Inside it lay the portfolio—the divorce agreement. My gaze dropped to the wedding band on my finger, already loose, as if one wrong movement might send it tumbling to the ground.
The steel door reflected me back in muted light. Hollow eyes. A ragged figure. The stem cell therapy was wearing off faster than it should. I exhaled, forcing myself upright just as the elevator chimed.
Stepping out, I couldn't ignore the stares. The whispers carried, sharp and careless: Are they really ending their marriage? Did Sloane leave her? What happens to the company now?
Each word sliced closer than I'd ever admit.
The news broke yesterday, yet here I was, the media's target for words they could twist.
As I stepped out of the lobby, the swarm of reporters surged against the barricade of security. The moment they spotted me, the chanting began.
"Ms. Aurora! Ms. Aurora!" Microphones thrust forward, flashes exploding like gunfire. "Care to comment on the circulating video of your wife and Margot Verne?"
A sharp sigh escaped my lips. The guards forced a path open, but one voice pierced through the noise.
"Maybe it's true then," the reporter drawled—the same woman who once cornered me during Dione's hidden years.
Her smile was smug, hungry. "That Ms. Sloane Duvall and Margot Verne have something.
.. special. Tell me, Ms. Aurora, burying yourself in work—is that why you couldn't keep your wife satisfied? "
Her words landed like knives, an insult cloaked in sweet venom.
I stopped, fixing my eyes on her.
"Actually," I said, my voice steady, "why are you even here?
Am I part of some scandal? No. So why not wait for the involved parties to speak, instead of parading outside my building like scavengers?
I'm certain my wife has her own explanation—don't you think? "
The crowd faltered, their noise thinning into uneasy silence.
Then someone gasped. "Oh my God, Ms. Aurora—your nose—"
"What?" I blinked, fingers brushing my nose. Red blooms on my fingertips. The flashes blind me, a thousand white suns exploding in my vision.
"Oh, come on!" the same reporter groaned, rolling her eyes. "She's faking it. Anything to make us feel sorry for her." Her laugh cuts through the noise.
I sighed, stepped forward, and plucked her press badge straight from her lanyard. My lips twitch as I flip it over—Margot Verne's contact stares back at me. Without a word, I snap a photo with my phone—her ID, her name, and that contact.
Releasing the badge, I smirked. "No wonder you've been hounding me. How much did Margot Verne pay you to do her dirty work?" My brow arched, voice low and cold.
Gasps ripple through the crowd. Whispering starts—biased, unethical, scandal. The reporter swallows, her composure cracking.
I dab my nose with a handkerchief, the cloth blooming red. "Everyone, gather around," I said, my tone calm, almost commanding. "I have news."
They press in, cameras trembling.
"For the record," I began, lifting my chin, "this isn't fake." My voice cuts through the chaos like glass. "I'm actually dying."
The square erupted. Flashes become lightning, microphones a forest of black stems.
"I have leukemia," I continued evenly. "I've been fighting it for over a decade. It's terminal. So no, this isn't a stunt. If you want proof, I'll give you my physician's number."
A stunned silence fell for a heartbeat, like the air itself had stopped. I bowed slightly. "Thank you."
My driver pulls up right on cue. I slip into the car, shut the door, and order softly, "Sloane's building."
The trip is a blur. When I stepped out, the world tilted, but my steps stayed steady. I cross the lobby, ignoring the looks that follow me, and step into the elevator bound for her office floor.
The ride felt suffocating, every breath like glass in my lungs, but I endured. By the time the elevator reached her floor, blood had already seeped through my shirt. I dabbed at it with my handkerchief, then tucked the stained cloth back into my blazer.
Through the glass wall of her office, I saw her. Sloane, phone pressed to her ear, head bowed slightly. Did she already know her wife was dying? Or was she still choosing silence over me?
I didn't wait. I knocked once and stepped inside.
Her eyes lifted, locking on mine. The phone slid from her hand to the desk as she stood. "Ro..." Her voice was low, uncertain, her steps slow as she came toward me. "What are you doing here?"
It hurt—God, it still hurt—to see her face. To remember she wasn't mine anymore. I forced a smile, reached into my bag, and pulled out the portfolio. "For my birthday," I said softly, "I want you to sign—"
The door opened.
Margot walked in, perfectly timed, like the universe itself conspired against me. Silence cracked in the room. Sloane froze. My laugh, bitter and sharp, broke it.
"Well," I said, eyes locking onto Margot, "good thing you're here.
" My tone was almost sweet, but the acid underneath burned.
"You can help me." I lifted the portfolio, waving it between them.
"Inside is a divorce agreement. Why don't you urge Sloane to sign it, so you don't have to play the sidepiece anymore? Isn't that what you've always wanted?"
Sloane's eyes widened. "Ro—"
"Don't," I snapped, shoving the folder against her chest. "Don't say a word. For my birthday today, I want one thing." My voice dropped, quiet but sharp enough to cut. "Sign the divorce agreement."
?·???°???°???·?
The silence hung thick between the three of us. Sloane flipped the portfolio open, her face unreadable. Margot stood glaring, arms crossed like she already owned the room. And me? I was hollow, just waiting for my wife to sign away the last of us.
"Ro..." Sloane's voice broke softly, her eyes brimming with the kind of pain I hadn't seen in years. "What's the meaning of this?" She shut the portfolio with a snap and placed it back on her desk.
"You heard me," I said, planting my feet as if they were the only thing keeping me upright. "I want a divorce for my birthday. That's your gift. In return, I'll give you the freedom to finally be with your sidepiece."
My gaze drifted to the porcelain doll sitting neatly on her desk. I strode toward it and picked it up. It was mine—the porcelain doll that looked just like me. "And I'm taking this back with me." I lifted it before returning to where I stood.
Sloane didn't move. Didn't even breathe. She only looked at me.
"Why don't you just sign it, Sloane?" Margot pressed, her voice sharp. "Your wife clearly doesn't want you anymore."
A bitter laugh slipped out of me.
"She's right. Sign it. End this charade.
Look at her." I pointed at Margot with the doll still in my grip.
"She's already living here, parading herself like she's the legal one.
Margot deserves the title she's already auditioning for.
Don't let her efforts go to waste. She may as well have your name, too. "
I smirked; the taste of venom sweet on my tongue.
Margot's smug expression soured. She marched toward me and slapped my hand. The porcelain doll slipped, shattered against the floor, its fractured face staring up from the shards.
"Margot!" Sloane hissed, her voice sharp with something dangerously close to fury.
A scoff escaped me. Just like me, the porcelain doll was always destined to break. Fragile. Disposable. Forgotten.
I lifted my head to face Margot, words burning on my tongue—but her fist found me first. A sharp punch snapped my head sideways. Copper flooded my mouth as I stumbled back, breath stolen clean from my lungs.
I cupped my nose, feeling the warm gush. Blood smeared my fingers when I pulled them away.
"Ro!" Sloane rushed forward, her hands reaching for my face. I shoved her off and lunged at Margot instead, slamming my fist across her cheek.
"How dare you?" I hissed, grabbing her blouse and yanking her close. "Isn't it enough that you've already taken my wife? You can't even stand on your own—you need to tear me down too?"
Margot scoffed and shoved me hard, sending me stumbling back. "My fault? You're the one throwing Sloane away!" She advanced, fist cocked, ready to strike again—but Sloane stepped between us, catching Margot's wrist mid-air.
"Enough!" Her voice cracked like a whip. "You don't get to lay a fucking hand on my wife, Margot." Her tone left no room for argument.
She flung Margot's hand aside, the motion sharp and final. I froze, blinking, uncertain. Was she defending me... or just keeping the spectacle under control?
Margot's face twisted. "Have you lost your mind, Sloane? She doesn't even see your worth! She threw you away before, and she's doing it again!"
"Shut up!" Sloane snapped. "Leave us, Margot."
Margot gawked at her, unmoving. Sloane's finger shot toward the door. "Now."
Her voice roared with authority I hadn't heard in years.
Margot's bitter laugh scraped the air, but she obeyed, storming out with a shake of her head.
Sloane followed, slammed the door, and turned the lock. Silence wrapped around us as she pressed a switch on the wall. One by one, the blinds slid down, sealing the office in shadow.
She turned back to me, stopping just a breath away as I dabbed at my nose. Her voice was low, trembling. "Is it true?" she asked. "Ro... you're sick?"
I cleared my throat, fumbling for a clean corner of my handkerchief.
Folding it over the bloodstains, I pressed it to my nose again.
"Can you just sign the divorce papers, Sol?
" My voice cracked but I forced it steady.
"Just sign, and we're done. I won't get in the way of whatever you have with Margot. "
Sloane stared at me, shaking her head. "We're not getting a divorce, Ro."
"Why not?" I asked, still pressing the cloth to my nose, but the bleeding wouldn't stop.
"Have you forgotten the clause? If you initiate the divorce, you lose everything!" she hissed.
A laugh escaped me—ragged, bitter, but real. My vision blurred. "Lose everything?" I whispered. "I already lost everything the moment you chose her over me. What's left to lose, Sloane?"
"Margot and I aren't in a relationship." Her voice was firm now, eyes locked on mine. "I have never been in any romantic relationship with her. Why won't you just listen?"
My chest tightened. "Then what's the video, huh? You—my wife—fighting another woman in front of Margot? That's supposed to mean nothing?" My tears blurred with the blood now, streaking my face.
Sloane lowered her gaze, whispering something I couldn't catch. When she looked up again, a faint, trembling smile broke through. "My decision is firm," she said quietly. "We're not getting a divorce."
She stepped closer and cupped my face in her warm hands. Her touch was grounding, almost unbearable. The dam broke inside me and I let the sobs come, tears streaking down to mix with the crimson on my cheeks.
"How long have you known you're sick, Ro?" Sloane's voice cracked, her eyes searching mine. "Why didn't you tell me—why didn't you tell me once?"
I scoff, removing her hands from mine. My body trembled as I stepped back, trying to steady myself. I wiped my tears harshly, almost violently. "Thirteen years ago."
She blinked at me, and a laugh escaped her lips, brittle and incredulous.
She turned away, hands braced on her desk as she flipped open the portfolio once again.
"Thirteen years ago...?" she echoed, her voice rising.
Then, in one swift motion, she grabbed the papers inside and shredded them into tiny pieces, letting them fall to the floor.
"Thirteen years ago, and you didn't tell me? !" she snapped, tears spilling freely.
"Is that..." she smacked her forehead, taking a step toward me. "Ro... tell me this isn't the reason you broke up with me back then." Her hands reached for mine, desperate.
I stared at her blankly, tilting my head and letting out a heavy sigh. "It is," I admitted. "It's the reason I broke up with you thirteen years ago." Truth felt bitter on my tongue, but what was there to hide? I was ending things with her anyway.
Her voice choked. "You—You... broke up with me because you were sick?" She laughed, though her tears betrayed her. "Ro! Why the hell would you leave me just because of that?"
I rubbed my brow, weary.
"The same reason I wanted you to sign the divorce agreement now, Sol.
I want you free of me. I'm resigning as CEO; the new CEO will take over immediately.
You'll manage the finances too, since you own half of the company's shares.
Everything's yours, just like the clauses say.
" I stepped away, hands dropping to my sides.
"I don't want anything to do with you anymore, so sign the divorce agreement already.
I'm even willing to give up my rights to Dione.
" My gaze fell to the ring on my finger.
I faintly smiled, gathering the last of my courage, and slowly removed it, letting it rest in my hand.
I stepped closer to her, took her hand, and pressed the ring into her palm.
"I'm letting you go, Sol. So please—" my voice cracked "—as a birthday gift, sign the divorce agreement.
I won't make a scene. I'll disappear completely from your life—away from you, away from Dione, from everything.
" I forced a faint smile. "Just agree to the divorce. That's all I'm asking."
Sloane stared down at the ring in her palm.
Her fingers trembled, but her voice came out like iron.
"You can send me a million copies of that divorce agreement, but I'm not signing a single one, Aurora.
You're not leaving me again. Not with a divorce. Not with anything."
I blinked at her, disbelief clawing at my chest. "How can you say that when Margot's out there waiting to be your 'legal one'?
Would you really like her to stay a sidepiece?
Because if you don't sign the divorce, she'll forever be the other woman—the cause of this all. "
"I don't even like her," Sloane spat. "I never started anything with her. You're my wife. You're the only one. I didn't have anyone else; I don't have a sidepiece. I'm all yours. Why do you keep believing Margot and I are together?"
"Stop trying to manipulate me!
" I snapped, blood and tears streaking my face.
"If Margot wasn't the one you loved, you should've stayed away from her in the first place!
But no—you let the media circulate their lies, let them target me instead.
You're the one ruining this marriage. So why don't you just sign the papers and end this already? !"
Sloane didn't look angry—she looked wrecked. Her smile was brittle, pained. "Alright," she whispered. "I should have cleared things up from the start."
She stepped directly in front of me, gaze steady. "Wait for me. When I clear everything up, then we'll talk about all of this."
My eyes locked on hers, but I didn't respond. I knew she would only give me false hope in the end. I looked at her one last time, then turned my back on her.
"Ro," she called, her voice softer now, making me pause. "Please... don't go anywhere else. At least wait for me to clear things up about me and Margot. Nothing is really going on between us."
My heart wanted to believe her, but my mind held me still. If she didn't do anything soon, I would push her to sign the papers no matter what. Without another word, I reached for the door, unlocked it, and walked out of her office without looking back.