Chapter 61
Plopping down in my chair, I groaned, pressing my fingers to my temples as I rubbed them. A knock on the door made me sit up straighter. When it opened, Margot peeked her head in with a smile. I raised a brow, tilting my head as I leaned closer to my desk.
"Hey," she said, stepping inside and closing the door behind her before walking toward me.
"Margot," I greeted, glancing at my calendar. "Did I miss a meeting today? Because I'm pretty sure there's nothing on my schedule."
She shrugged, settling into the chair across from me. "Just got bored. You done with your investor meeting? Want to grab coffee together?"
I pointed at myself, letting out a soft laugh. "You're treating?" I teased, clicking my tongue. "No, just kidding." A quick glance at my wristwatch. "But sure, we can grab coffee. I know a place."
Pushing back my chair, I stood and grabbed my handbag. Margot stood as well, smiling brightly. "You seem a little livelier today. Something good happen?"
I scoffed, flipping my hair over my shoulder. "Mm-hmm, nothing happened—just happy, I guess." I shrugged and walked ahead. She followed close behind as we exited my office. "Millie, I'll be heading out for a bit," I called out.
Millie smiled and nodded.
As we walked toward the elevator, Margot slipped her arm through mine. I chuckled, shaking my head. It had become a habit of hers whenever she stood close to me. I just let her. When the elevator doors opened, we stepped inside.
"Have you thought about it, Sloane?"
Margot's voice made me straighten. I looked at her, smiling faintly as I shook my head. "No," I said firmly, already knowing what she meant. "And I don't think there's anything left to think about, Margot."
"Why not?"
I gave her a small, gentle smile. "You're a nice person, Margot. You deserve someone else—someone better. Don't like me just because we're close. And don't try to replace Aurora. Find someone else."
"I'm not trying to replace your wife," she countered.
I sighed as the elevator doors slid open. We stepped out, Margot still clinging to my arm.
"I don't want to replace her," she said softly. "But I want you to know I could treat you better than she ever did."
My steps faltered. I frowned, reaching out to flick her forehead lightly. "Stop it, will you?" I clicked my tongue, resuming my pace. "If you don't, I swear I'll send you back to France."
Margot pouted like a child but didn't argue. We walked toward the parking lot in silence.
"Let's use my car," I said, unlocking it. "I'll drive us there."
Margot let go of my arm as she stepped toward the passenger side. I unlocked the car and slid into the driver's seat while she got in beside me. Buckling my seatbelt, I checked the rearview mirror before starting the ignition.
As I pulled out of the parking lot, Margot shifted in her seat, grinning as she turned to face me. "Wow," she began. "I can't believe a CEO like you is driving me around. Should I be flustered by this gesture?"
I glanced at her, laughing softly as I shook my head, my hands steady on the wheel. "What? It's not like I'm doing you a favor."
"Well, I don't know about you," she teased, "but I feel like your passenger princess right now." She clasped her hands across her chest dramatically.
Her words made me chuckle, but I just let her ramble, not really thinking about it. Before long, we reached my usual spot. I pulled into an open parking space and turned off the engine.
We got out of the car. Margot looked at the café, grinning wide. "A coffee date," she announced, grabbing my wrist.
"Excuse me—it's not a date," I said, nudging her waist, which only made her laugh.
"It's a date to me," she replied playfully as we walked toward the entrance.
I rolled my eyes, laughing as she pushed the door open. We stepped inside and scanned the place for an empty table.
"Oh—there." Margot pointed toward a table near the window.
She ushered me over, and I followed, taking the seat across from her. As I sat down, I felt a prickle at the back of my neck—someone was watching me. When I looked up, my breath hitched. Aurora.
Our eyes met for a brief second before I looked away, pretending to fix my sleeve. My pulse quickened. Of all places...
A knot formed in my throat. If she saw Margot, she'd definitely be shocked. Thank God Margot was wearing her photochromic glasses—it made it less obvious how much they resembled each other.
"What do you want? I'll order for us," Margot asked, snapping me back.
I straightened, giving her my order, careful not to glance in Aurora's direction again. Still, I could feel her eyes on me—those fleeting glances that made my chest tighten. What if she thought I was having an affair again? The thought made me scoff under my breath.
Margot went to the counter to order, leaving me alone. I risked a quick glance—Aurora sat across from their company lawyer. I swallowed hard and quickly looked away.
When Margot returned, she smiled at me, completely oblivious. "This is a nice place," she said, looking around.
"See? Told you," I said, matching her smile. "It's one of my favorites."
"Well," she grinned, leaning forward, "maybe we should have coffee dates here more often."
I couldn't help but laugh softly, reaching over to pat her head.
"Now, now, stop thinking this is a date, will you?
" I murmured. "What would people think if they heard you?
I'm married, Margot. You wouldn't like the idea of being the sidepiece. " I shrugged teasingly.
She raised a brow and leaned closer, a sly smile curling her lips. "Why would I be the sidepiece when you don't exactly love your wife?" she said, clicking her tongue.
My smile faltered. I opened my mouth to reply, but before I could, the buzzer on our table vibrated. Margot stood, brushing down her skirt. "Let me grab it," she said, walking off toward the counter.
I sighed, her words echoing in my head. You don't exactly love your wife.
I ran a hand through my hair, trying to shake off the tension building in my chest—until a sudden gasp snapped me out of it.
When I looked up, Margot stood frozen near the counter. My heart kicked against my ribs. I immediately stood. "Oh gosh—" I moved toward her, bumping into someone in my rush. "Are you okay?" I asked, noticing her fingers red from spilled coffee.
"I'm the one who got scalded, and the first person you ask is the woman who spilled it?"
My entire body went still at the sound of that voice. Aurora.
Before I could turn, she was already walking past us, not sparing me so much as a glance.
I swallowed hard, my pulse hammering in my ears as my gaze followed her retreating figure.
"Sorry," Margot whispered, pulling me back. "I didn't know that was your wife. I didn't mean to—"
"Nonsense," I cut in quickly, placing a hand on her shoulder and guiding her back to our table. One of the café staff hurried over with a first aid kit and a cold compress. "Thank you," I said, taking it from them. "I'll handle it."
I moved my chair closer to Margot, gently taking her hand. I pressed the cold compress to her burn and blew softly on it. "Does it hurt?" I asked quietly. "Maybe we should go to a clinic, have it checked."
She winced a little but smiled. "Nah, I'm fine, Sloane."
I nodded absently, though my mind wasn't with her—it was with Aurora. I could still hear the sharp edge in her voice, see the way she refused to look back at me.
Even after we left the café and drove back to the office, my thoughts wouldn't settle.
When we pulled up in front of the building, I shifted into park and turned to Margot. "I won't be going back in with you," I said finally. "I need to check on my wife."
Margot looked at me, then down at her burn. She forced a small smile and hummed softly. "Okay," she said, unbuckling her seatbelt and opening the door. "Go ahead. Thanks for the ride, Sloane."
She stepped out of the car and shut the door.
I honked once before driving past her, fumbling for my phone in the holder and trying to dial Aurora's number.
It just kept ringing until it went to voicemail.
I tried again, glancing between the road and my screen, but still nothing.
On the third try, the call wouldn't even go through.
I sighed sharply and slammed my palm against the steering wheel before pulling into a parking spot.
Turning off the ignition, I jumped out of the car and rushed toward the lobby, my thumbs flying across the screen as I sent message after message to Aurora.
I jabbed the elevator button repeatedly, muttering, "Come on, Ro," under my breath as I tried calling her again. No answer. When the elevator chimed, I darted out the moment the doors opened and scanned the area until I spotted Celeste.
"Celeste!" I hurried toward her, eyes darting around. "Aurora—did she come back here?"
"Ms. Duvall?" Celeste looked at me, confused. "No, Ms. Aurora hasn't been here since this morning. Is something the matter?"
"What?" I whispered, my stomach twisting. Clearing my throat, I forced my voice steady. "Can you try calling her? Ask where she is and text me as soon as you hear anything. Please. Thank you."
I waved her off before rushing back toward the elevator, my pulse hammering. I couldn't stand still—kept fumbling with my phone, sending one message after another.
"Damn it," I hissed.
When the doors finally opened, I sprinted out and burst through the building's entrance. "Maybe she's home," I muttered, half to convince myself. "She has to be okay."
I jumped into my car, barely remembering to buckle my seatbelt before hitting the ignition and speeding off. My fingers drummed restlessly against the steering wheel, every red light feeling like a curse.
When I finally turned into our driveway, my chest tightened—her car was already parked in the open garage. I pulled up beside it and threw mine into park.
Aurora stood there for a second, frozen. But the moment I stepped out of the car, she turned and rushed inside the house.
That's when I noticed—the bandages wrapped around her arm. My heart clenched.
"Was it really that bad?" I whispered, guilt clawing up my throat.
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I sighed quietly as I followed Aurora inside the house. She didn't spare me a glance, walking straight down the hallway toward the bedrooms. I stopped when I reached the master bedroom, my gaze fixed on her back.
"Aurora," I called softly.
She stopped—but didn't turn around. She just stood there, as if waiting for me to say something more.
I exhaled sharply, pressing my fingers to my temples. "Have dinner with me," I offered, hoping she would at least acknowledge me. But as expected, she kept walking, not a single word escaping her.
A groan slipped past my lips as I shook my head and stepped into the master bedroom.
Closing the door behind me, I set my handbag on the console and went to the wardrobe to change.
Once I was done, I stepped back into the hallway, intending to head for the dining area—until my eyes fell on the far end of the corridor.
Aurora's door.
I hesitated for a moment, then sighed. My body moved before my mind could decide. I found myself standing before her door, staring at it.
"Should I knock?" I murmured under my breath.
Before I could, the door swung open. Aurora stood there, startled when she saw me. Our eyes met, and I drew in a sharp breath.
"Why haven't you answered your phone? You're not even replying to my messages. Are you ignoring me?" I asked, trying to sound composed, as if worry hadn't been clawing at me all day.
Aurora arched a brow and pointed at herself. "Am I ignoring you?" she repeated, her voice edged with disbelief. "Sol, do you even realize what you did to me? You ignored me when hot coffee spilled all over me." She lifted her bandaged arm for emphasis.
In my defense, I hadn't even realized it was her...
"See this?" she continued. "And the first thing you did was rush past me—to her. I'm your wife." Her voice trembled, more hurt than angry.
I exhaled heavily, running my fingers through my hair.
"She's a business partner, Ro." My tone came out sharper than I intended.
"It's not like you weren't taken care of.
Look at you," I gestured to her arm. "You're fine.
You didn't need me for something that wasn't critical. "
But the words tasted bitter. Because deep down, all I wanted was to hold her—to tell her I was sorry. Yet, with the distance growing between us, I didn't know if I still had that right.
Aurora stared at me, eyes wide with disbelief. Then she let out a hollow laugh and shook her head. "You're impossible, Sol."
Clicking my tongue, I stepped closer, reaching for her bandaged hand. "Are you frustrated that I didn't go with you?" I murmured. "Or are you jealous? Jealous that my attention was on business—so much so that you think I don't see you as important anymore?"
She didn't respond, but I could see how rigid her body had become.
"Tell me, Aurora," I continued, my voice low. "Aren't you jealous when I'm with someone else? Aren't you jealous when I free my time for business but act too busy when it comes to you?"
My eyes stayed fixed on her. "Or maybe..." I smiled faintly, though it felt more like a challenge. "Maybe you don't need me anymore. After all, you agreed to this marriage because you needed my money. And now that your company's clawing its way back—"
I stopped short, narrowing my gaze at her silence. Then I let out a soft laugh and reached up to cup her cheek.
"Your body betrays you, Ro. See this?" My thumb brushed along her jaw, feeling the tense line beneath it. "The way you clench it. The way you tremble. How long do you think you can hold your emotions back?"
Taking a step back, I studied her from head to toe, then back to her face. "Be honest. Are you jealous?"
She just had to say it—just once—and I might stop right here and give her my full attention. If she could only admit it, I'd be gentle.
Aurora drew in a deep breath, her eyes shut tight. When she opened them again, she walked past me without a glance. "What are you talking about? I'm not jealous."
My brow arched, a smirk tugging at my lips as I turned to look at her back. "Then if I told you I wanted to start dating someone, would you really feel nothing?" I challenged, my fists clenching, jaw tightening. Was she really not jealous?
What if I start dating Margot? Wouldn't she feel anything?
I added under my breath, "If I spent less time here, less time with you—would you even care? After all, this marriage is just for the company, isn't it?"
She tilted her head back slightly, as if to steady herself. Then she straightened and turned to face me again. "Is that why you won't give me another chance, Sol?" she asked, stepping closer. "Because you want to date someone else?"
That wasn't what I meant. I only wanted her to be honest—to tell me if she still felt something when she saw me with someone else.
My breath hitched when I saw tears forming in her eyes. I froze, watching her wipe them away with the back of her hand.
"Sorry," she murmured. "I'm just... not feeling well." She turned and reached for the door, opening it.
"Why can't you just tell me straight to my face, Ro?"
Tell me you're jealous. Tell me you still want me. Was that really so hard?
"What do you even want me to say?
" she asked, still not looking at me. "You're right—it's your decision, your life.
We're only married because my company needed the money.
We're just ex-lovers who shouldn't be together anymore, tangled in a situation neither of us wanted. "
She stepped into the doorway, ready to close it.
"Don't you want to use me anymore?" The words tore from my throat before I could stop them. "For one last time, Aurora—can't you just treat me like before? Use me. My body. Everything about me. Use it!" I shouted.
I would've given her everything if she just admitted she still wanted me—wanted me only for herself.
She turned toward me but said nothing. She just stood there, frozen.
I swallowed hard. "Back then, even when you pushed me away, I came crawling back, begging like some damn dog. Treat me like that again! Fake it if you have to—fake your love, fake everything!"
I would've accepted even her lies, as long as they kept me by her side.
"I didn't fake anything!
" she cried, her face flushed and trembling.
Her voice broke as she clutched her head.
"I..." She hitched a sharp breath, covering her eyes with her uninjured hand.
"Twelve years ago, I told you I was only with you for sex—but it wasn't true. "
Then... what's the truth, Ro? I wanted to ask, but the words never left my lips. I could only stare at her.
She sank to her knees, head bowed. "Sol... I love you," she said through a trembling voice. "I've always loved you. Every part of you. Our four years together weren't a game to me. Even after I left—twelve years ago—I never stopped loving you."
My fists clenched so tight my nails dug into my palms. "Then why leave me?!"
"Because.
.." When she looked up at me, her face was streaked with tears—raw, unguarded pain twisting her features.
"Because I was terrified you'd leave me first. Just like my father abandoned my mother.
Just like he abandoned me. I couldn't bear waiting for the day you'd get tired of me, so I chose to leave first. I thought it was easier to make you hate me than to watch you walk away. "
"What...?" The word slipped out, barely a whisper. I stepped closer and knelt in front of her, cupping her face. My hands trembled—part anger, part agony—as my thumb brushed the faint wound I'd caused on her cheek.
"Do you even know what I lost back then, Aurora?" My voice cracked. "You left me at my lowest—when I needed you most. You left me to face everything alone."
My grandmother had died—the same woman I'd proudly introduced to Aurora.
I'd found out about my pregnancy the very day she broke up with me.
I had a scholarship I was ready to abandon just to stay with her, just to keep her by my side.
But she left me so broken that I buried myself in hatred, in exhaustion, forcing myself through studies and work just to survive.
.. carrying the weight of the unborn child inside me.
And now I found out she left because she was afraid I'd leave her first?
Aurora's hand reached for mine. "Sol, I'm sorry," she whispered weakly. "I know I was a coward. I know I hurt you. But I want to make it right. Please... let's start over."
My grip faltered. I slowly pulled away, staying still, still kneeling in front of her. "You say you want to make things right," I murmured, just loud enough for her to hear, "yet you thought I was sleeping around. That I was begging another man to fuck me."
"Sol—"
This is humiliating to admit, but she needs to know I wasn't cheating on her. I took a deep breath, forcing the truth out. "That night, when you heard me begging, I was touching myself. Alone."
I stood, looking down at her, my chest tight with resentment and pain. "So, tell me, Aurora—how could you claim to love me, claim to want me back, and still think so low of me?"
She wanted to start over, yet instead of confronting me, she chose to accuse me of something I'd never do.
"I—"
"Every word you throw at me cuts deeper," I said, my tone colder now, steadier. "Not just as your wife, but as the woman who once loved you. You degrade me, Ro. Again and again. You broke me twelve years ago, and you're breaking me now."
I took a step closer, eyes burning into hers. "So tell me..." I paused, glaring daggers at her. "How can we start over when everything between us is already ruined?"
She had ruined me before, and I was ruining her life now.
But why did it feel like, instead of ruining her, I was the one being ruined instead?
She had hurt me without ever knowing that I carried her child with me—that I raised the heir she never knew existed.
She had destroyed me again and again without realizing that, despite her leaving me twelve years ago, I would still have been willing to stay by her side, just to be with her.
Aurora didn't say anything; she simply knelt on the floor, sobbing.
If I had been selfish enough to think only of my own happiness, maybe I would have already given Margot a chance at a date.
But I just couldn't. My eyes stayed fixed on Aurora.
No matter what I did, whenever I looked at Margot, it was always Aurora's face I saw—and never the real Margot.
I swallowed hard, shaking the thought away. I shouldn't have compared two different people at all, because one thing was clear to me: even if she hurt me over and over again, I would still have chosen Aurora over anyone new.
"Stop crying, Aurora. Nothing will ever happen if you just keep crying like that."
All she had to do was prove herself to me—to show that whatever we had twelve years ago was still worth reopening, still worth a second chance. I wasn't closing my doors to her, but she needed to prove she was still worth the risk.