Chapter 43
Resting in the lounge chair at my father's house, I pressed a cold compress to the bruise on my cheek and groaned. Thalia, who had practically dragged me back here, sat beside me, her lips twitching as though she was suppressing a laugh.
I narrowed my eyes at her. "What are you looking at?"
She tilted her head, reached out, and poked my nose. "You look like you've just lost a war, Rory." Leaning back in her chair, she stared ahead. "It's your birthday—you should be celebrating, not sitting here like a broken heart."
"I am celebrating," I muttered, shrugging as I propped my elbow on my knee and rested my bruised cheek on the compress. "Celebrating my divorce." My gaze drifted to my phone on the table across from us. Sloane hadn't called, and I hadn't messaged her either.
"Didn't you say Sloane won't sign it?" Thalia's voice was calm but curious. "I don't think you'll be celebrating anything about that so soon."
I exhaled sharply, humming under my breath.
"She said she'll clear up all the misunderstandings.
.. that I just need to wait. But how long should I wait?
My time's running out, Thalia. All I want is to free her from this—free myself from the jealousy I've been drowning in. "
Thalia patted my shoulder and pulled me into a side hug, my head coming to rest against her.
"It's strange seeing you like this," she murmured with a soft chuckle.
"You used to rule your empire, keep everyone at arm's length like they were competition. But now..." She trailed off, sighing.
I shut my eyes, willing myself not to show the pain that churned inside me.
Her words sent me spiraling back through memories, anything but the thought of dying at the end of it all.
Swallowing hard, I nudged her side with my elbow.
"You need to find someone, you know," I teased, forcing a weak chuckle despite the burn in my chest. "I want to see you get married before I go. "
She groaned softly. "You say it like you don't even have a lot of time left with us, Rory." Her voice was gentle, but I caught the edge of pain woven through it.
I shifted, still resting my head against hers.
"Before my doctor told me my leukemia was progressing faster than expected, I went to Switzerland.
Right after my honeymoon with Sloane..." My throat tightened, words dragging like glass.
"That's when I got the prognosis, Thalia. "
She stayed quiet, as though holding her breath for what would come next.
"I only have two to three years," I whispered. "And since Sloane and I already celebrated our first wedding anniversary months ago... that means I have less than two years left."
Her lips parted, but no words came. At last, she managed, "But... didn't you say there were other options?"
A bitter laugh slipped out of me as I sat up straighter, meeting her eyes.
"Options? You mean dragging my body through more needles, more nights hooked to machines, more pain—just to cling to a little more time with Sloane and Dione?
Or letting it all go, accepting that my body has already betrayed me?
" My chest rose and fell, sharp with each word.
"Either way, Thalia, it feels like a cage. "
"Forget it." She clicked her tongue, brushing the thought away like dust. "If it's stressing you out, then maybe you should just... enjoy what's left. Every single moment, Rory."
I closed my eyes, forcing a smile. "I made a list, actually. Things I want to do before... well, before." Reaching for my phone, I unlocked it and shared the note with her. "Take a look."
She raised a brow, swiped her screen, and let out a cackle when she saw the first few entries. "God, Rory, this looks like some wild adventure." She grinned at me, but as she scrolled, her expression shifted. Her brow furrowed, shoulders sinking.
"Rory..." She exhaled sharply, eyes lifting to mine. "Why would you include funeral arrangements on your bucket list?"
I shrugged lightly. "That? Already settled. Everything's finalized—I just have to wait for the when." A hollow laugh escaped me. "Besides, my attorney compiled everything. You should have copies too."
"You're unbelievable," Thalia muttered, rolling her eyes.
I opened my mouth to answer, but my father's voice cut through. "Rory."
I turned to find him standing before us, his expression grave. "You need to see this."
My brow furrowed. "See what?"
He hesitated, then glanced toward the house. "Sloane. She's making a live announcement about her... situation. It's all over the news right now."
My stomach tightened. Slowly, I rose to my feet, legs unsteady until my father caught my arm. Thalia rushed to my other side, steadying me as we made our way inside.
The living room lights felt too bright, the air too heavy. On the wide television screen, the broadcast came into sharp focus. And there she was—Sloane—standing beneath the harsh lights of a platform stage, the crowd buzzing around her.
I froze where I stood, unable to breathe as the camera zoomed in on her face. Calm. Composed. Regal.
Her voice rang out, steady, deliberate.
"I want to address the rumors circulating about me and my business partner, Margot Verne.
" She let her gaze sweep the crowd. "From hotel surveillance to the yacht bar incident, the media has painted its own narrative—one I refuse to let stand unchallenged. "
She paused, scanning the crowd.
"As you may know, I am married—and I will remain married—to Aurora DeLacroix.
That fact will not change. I have always been vocal about my commitment: whatever I share with my wife, it will remain the same. I remain bound to her, no matter what."
My head spun, the words barely registering. What was she doing?
"The recent issues," she continued, voice firm, "have caused unnecessary speculation about my marriage.
Ignoring them will not help. So let me be clear: I, Sloane Duvall, have no romantic relationship with Margot Verne.
Yes, the hotel surveillance circulating online is true—I did bring Margot to the hotel because she was drunk.
Any speculation that something else occurred between us is entirely false. "
I swallowed hard, my heart hammering as the room fell silent, everyone seemingly holding their breath.
She took a measured step forward, the camera zooming in.
"As for the incident at the yacht bar, yes, I caused a scene—but not out of jealousy over Margot.
I reacted because I saw someone else lurking around my wife that day.
I have the right to be angry if I see my wife with another woman.
.. just as my wife would have every right to be angry if she saw me with someone else. "
My brow furrowed, tilting my head toward Thalia. "Wait... who's the woman she fought with?"
Thalia's lips curled into a faint, knowing smile. "Uh... the same woman who was grinding on your lap the night you got drunk after you found out she'd been with Margot at the hotel."
"Aurora!" someone in the room gasped at Thalia's words, and I jolted, shock rooting me to the spot.
My eyes snapped back to the screen. There she was—Sloane—still standing on the platform, unwavering, her eyes locked somewhere beyond the camera, her message echoing in my mind.
"My relationship with my wife has been smooth sailing from the start," Sloane announced, a faint chuckle escaping her lips.
"We haven't had any misunderstandings in the past. However, with all the new rumors circulating, Aurora has been bombarded with questions—whether we're breaking up, or whether I'm involved with someone else. "
She paused, letting her words sink in.
"The truth is, I have never been involved with anyone, even after our breakup a decade ago.
I stayed focused on raising our daughter.
I only came to Monaco to marry Aurora DeLacroix and fulfill my duty as the mother of her child.
I can't imagine loving anyone else—my heart has always belonged to my wife and our daughter. "
A heavy silence lingered over the live broadcast, punctuated only by the clicks and flashes of cameras.
"With these rumors now entangled with my company and my public image," she continued, voice steady, "I would like to announce that, effective immediately, the partnership between Maison Verne and Duvall Capital Group is terminated."
The commotion around her escalated—furious camera flashes, reporters shouting—but I stood frozen, my breathing hitching as I stared blankly at the screen. What had just happened?
"I hope everyone will stop spreading false news about me having an affair," she said firmly.
"Since day one, my heart has belonged solely to my wife, Aurora DeLacroix.
Any misinformation lingering in the media will face legal action.
All matters will be handled by my lawyer. That's all."
My body stiffened, my vision narrowing. I took a shaky step back. My father looked at me, concern etched on his face, but I barely registered it. Before he could speak, I turned sharply.
"I... I need some time to think," I muttered, striding out of the house.
As if on instinct, I rushed to my personal driver, waiting by the car. "Let's go," I said, my voice tight.
He hurried to open the back door for me. I slid inside, clutching my chest as the pain surged. "That's her way of clearing things up?" I whispered to myself, staring at the dashboard.
"Madame," my driver asked, starting the engine, "shall we head home?"
"No," I said firmly, not looking at him. "Take me to Cimetière de Monaco."
?·???°???°???·?
My mind kept circling back to Sloane's words.
The phone wouldn't stop buzzing with calls and messages.
Frustrated, I shut it off, gripping it so hard my knuckles whitened.
She terminated her partnership with Margot's company.
.. Does that mean she's choosing me? Choosing our marriage?
But why? Does that mean she still loves me?
If so... why does she keep letting Margot hover around her?
Her live announcement replayed over and over in my head. I barely noticed when the car stopped in front of the DeLacroix private mausoleum.
I stepped out slowly, leaning into the night air. "I'll stay here for a while. You can go back home—I'll call when I need you to fetch me. And don't tell anyone I'm here. Got it?"
"Yes, Madame. Take care." My driver looked reluctant, but after a moment's hesitation, he drove off.
Silence fell, leaving only me and the soft glow of lights bathing the mausoleum where my grandmother and mother rested. Their tombstones rose, elevated above the polished floor, dignified and untouchable.
I drew the key from my coat pocket, slipped it into the lock, and pushed open the door.
Inside, the air felt heavier, the hush absolute.
My steps echoed faintly as I moved toward the two portraits—my grandmother, regal and composed, and beside her, my mother, smiling with a warmth that once felt like safety.
I stopped at my mother's tombstone, my gaze fixed on her picture.
"Mom," I whispered, my voice breaking into the stillness.
The sound bounced back at me, hollow. I let out a long sigh, eyes tracing the familiar features in the frame.
People always said I looked like her, only sharper—my edges carved harder, my reflection bending masculine since I was born intersex.
I brushed my fingertips against the cold marble edge. "Why didn't you tell me the truth? Why did you lie? Why did you paint Papa as the monster who abandoned us, who left you sick and alone?"
A bitter laugh escaped me, sharp and ragged. "All this time... why didn't you say anything? Why did you let me bury myself in anger at a ghost, at something that wasn't even true?"
My knees buckled, and I collapsed onto the cold stone floor with a dull thud. The weight of everything pressed down on me until I bowed, eyes shut tight.
"Why...
why did you let me hate Papa all my life?
" My voice cracked, trembling as I pressed a shaking hand against the tombstone.
"Wasn't it enough that you let me grow up resenting him?
You also made me let go of Sloane. Mom..
. why? You said it was for the best—then why does it hurt so much? "
A sob tore out of me before I could swallow it back. It echoed off the marble walls, bouncing back at me like a cruel mockery.
"Ever since you told me to end things with Sloane, all I've felt is pain—pain for leaving her, pain for turning my back on her, pain for trying to bury what I felt.
And I listened, because you swore it was to protect her.
" My voice rose, hoarse and jagged. "Then why—why would she still choose me over someone else, even after knowing I'm sick?
!" I shouted at the silent stone, as if it could answer.
My fingers curled into fists, striking the ground again and again until the sting burned my knuckles. "Do you know what I've lost, Mom? I lost years with my daughter. I lost years I could've spent with the two of them. I lost everything just by obeying you."
Tears streamed hot down my cheeks; my breathing ragged. "I sacrificed my own happiness—pushed through therapy, clawed my way into running this goddamn empire—only to find out the truth. The story you told me about Papa wasn't true."
I pressed my forehead to the floor, fists trembling. Rage, grief, and guilt tangled inside me until I couldn't tell which was which. "I'm furious, Mom. Furious at myself for listening. Furious at you for lying. Furious at Papa for never fighting for me."
My voice thinned to a rasp. "I don't even know who ruined me anymore. Was it Sloane? Was it you? Or was it just... me?"
A bitter laugh tore free, sounding more like a sob. I sat back on my heels, still punching the ground, not caring about the sting of my skin or the blood beginning to smear my palms. I'm dying anyway, I thought. Why does it matter?
"You said Sloane would leave me once she found out the truth," I whispered, staring at my mother's picture through blurred eyes.
"So why... why would she choose to stay with me?
Why wouldn't she sign the divorce papers?
Why would she go on live television and announce to the world she's still tied to me?
" My voice broke into a soft sob. "Did you lie to me again, Mom?
Did you just want me to feel the same pain you did when you let Papa go? "
I don't know how long I stayed there—crying, cursing, mumbling my fury at the silent stone. Time blurred until only the sound of crickets and raindrops filled the night. My chest ached as I dragged myself to my feet, knuckles white around my fists.
"I guess, at the end of the day, it's all on me, right?
" I said hoarsely, eyes fixed on the tombstone.
"I should've learned to say no. I should've chosen a different path instead of becoming the DeLacroix heir.
Maybe then... maybe then I'd have the happiness I deserve. "
A faint, broken smile tugged at my lips before I turned away.
I locked the mausoleum door behind me. The rain poured harder, but I didn't care; each drop stung my skin like tiny bullets.
The cold wind cut through me like a knife, but I kept walking with no sense of direction.
"I'm tired of fighting," I whispered to the rain, voice trembling. "I just want to be with Sloane..."
The darkness around me didn't frighten me anymore.
It wrapped around me like a cloak, a quiet place where I could break apart without anyone's eyes on me.
My feet carried me to the edge of the road, the pavement slick under my shoes.
The streets were empty—no cars, no voices, no one.
A bitter chuckle slipped out. "If I passed out here, no one would find me. Maybe... maybe I'd finally get to my last stop, right?"
I exhaled sharply, shrugging off my soaked blazer and clutching it to my chest as I kept walking, alone.
My mind drifted back to Sloane—was she home?
Had she come back? Was she looking for me?
A thousand questions rose and fell inside me, but none of them had answers.
My shoes splashed through the puddles, each step sending ripples across the water.
I stepped on them like a child, a hollow smile flickering at my lips while my mind drifted, empty and chaotic.
The rain poured harder, soaking through my clothes, aching through my body.
Still, I stayed, refusing to seek shelter, as if punishing myself.
A sudden beam of light sliced through the downpour.
I blinked, straightening instinctively. A car slowed, stopping a few meters away.
My head tilted; the driver's door opened.
Panic prickled my skin. Run, my instincts hissed.
What if it's a killer? Even if I'm ready to die, I don't want it to be like that.
I took a step back, ready to bolt—until a voice cut through the rain.
"Ro!"
My heart stopped. Every wall I'd tried to rebuild collapsed in an instant. I swallowed hard as the figure stepped out, the rain tracing her silhouette.
"Sol..." The name escaped me in a whisper. I stared at her face, dazed. "Why... how..." Words tangled in my throat. Sloane—my wife—stood in front of me like a lighthouse in a storm. For a heartbeat, I felt like a stray cat finding shelter.
She didn't speak again. She simply threw herself at me, arms wrapping tight. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," she sobbed against my chest, fists clutching my soaked shirt. "Please don't leave. Let's not get a divorce. Please."
I went still, blinking as she held me tighter, as if afraid I'd vanish. My hands hung at my sides. "Why..." I managed, voice trembling. "Why did you choose me?"
She froze, then lifted her face to mine.
Rain streamed down her cheeks, mixing with her tears.
"What do you mean why? What do you mean choose you?
" Her voice cracked. "Ro, there was never anyone else to choose.
From the beginning until now, it's only you.
" She jabbed a finger weakly against my chest before resting her head against it.
"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry for making you feel like an option.
I'm sorry for making you think I had something with Margot. "
Something in me broke. My hands moved to her shoulders. I pushed her back just enough to see her face, still holding her. I crouched slightly, bringing us eye to eye.
"Didn't you hear me?
" My voice was hoarse, rising above the rain.
"Didn't you hear me when I told the media I'm dying?
" My fingers trembled on her shoulders. "I'm dying, Sol.
I'm dying! So why would you stay beside me?
You should leave. You should find someone else—someone who isn't a countdown! "
"Because I can't!" Sloane's voice cracked like thunder, rising above the rain.
Her expression twisted in pain; I couldn't tell if she was crying too or if it was only the water streaming down her face.
"The embezzlement, sure, I manipulated it—only because I wanted you back!
I can't leave you! I can't start something new with someone else!
It's you, Ro. It's always been you!" She hitched a breath, choking on her words.
"That's why... that's why I don't understand.
Why did you choose to leave me back then, instead of staying?
If you knew you were sick, if you knew you were dying—why didn't you stay with me until your last breath? "
I couldn't answer. Not because I didn't want to, but because I had no words left. Her voice held disappointment; a grief so sharp it felt like every wrong decision I'd made was being carved into my skin.
"You promised me," Sloane said, her voice trembling.
"You promised me after graduation. You promised me a life together.
So why did you leave me just because you were sick?
I would've stayed. I would've fought. I would've stood beside you.
I spent all my life hating you and loving you at the same time, only to find out the real reason you left wasn't because I was a toy, but because you were sick! "
"Sol... please..." My voice cracked. I wanted to push her away, but something inside me begged her to stay.
"Stop pushing me away!
" she snapped, raw and unguarded. "Don't push me away!
Ruin me if you have to—tear me apart if you have to—but don't shut me out!
Let me stay. Own me if you must, keep me for yourself, but don't hand me to someone else.
I'd rather be destroyed with you than live a life away from you, Aurora. "
Her words stopped my breath. I stared at her, stunned, until my knees gave out. I knelt in front of her, my head low, rainwater sliding off my face. The storm above softened to a steady drizzle.
My fists clenched, nails biting into my palms as I shut my eyes. I didn't care if it was selfish. I didn't care if it was wrong. I wanted her. Needed her. I couldn't lose her again.
With all the courage left inside me, I swallowed my pride and opened my mouth.
I glanced at her, my vision blurred by tears.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, blinking hard.
"Sol... please... don't love someone else.
" My voice cracked, raw. "Please don't find someone else.
I can't afford seeing you in someone else's arms. If I die one day, please—don't find someone else to love.
" A sob rose in my throat as I clutched her hands.
"I love you, Sol. I love you so much it hurts.
I can't watch you belong to anyone else. I can't."
Sloane stared at me, eyes glistening.
Then she crouched down in front of me, her palms cupping my face with trembling fingers.
"Sol, please..." My voice was almost a prayer.
"Just love only me in this lifetime—or the next, or the one after that.
" My hands closed over hers, desperate, anchoring her to me.
She didn't speak.
Instead, she leaned closer, closing the space between us until I could taste her breath against mine.
Her lips found mine—soft, wet, trembling—and everything inside me broke.
I shut my eyes, drinking her in, letting her warmth fill the cracks inside me.
And as the rain whispered around us, I felt myself slipping—like a tide pulling me under, surrendering to her kiss, to her warmth, to the darkness curling at the edges of my vision.