Chapter 82
My gaze landed on the building entrance. I let out a long, steadying breath and walked into the lobby, striding toward the elevator bank. One car was closing; I caught it with the strap of my handbag and slipped inside.
I froze when I recognized who stood across from me. A knot tightened in my throat. Ro. How many days had it been? I'd lost count. I'd been waiting for her to reach out, waiting patiently—and still, nothing.
"Are you coming in?" Aurora's voice made me blink.
I cleared my throat and stepped to the far side of the elevator as if she were a stranger.
My hands clutched the bag strap; I kept my head low.
Tears prickled behind my eyes. I bit the inside of my cheek and tried to breathe steady.
When the elevator chimed at our floor, I straightened, my hand reaching out, but she stormed past without a glance.
I let out a short, humorless laugh and lowered my hand. Another deep breath. I followed her down the hallway to the boardroom.
Aurora already sat at the head of the table when I entered.
She didn't look up; she just scanned documents.
The directors were settling in. Even in a room full of business talk, the chill between us felt like its own presence.
The CFO began the financial review, pointing to charts and numbers that showed an impressive rebound.
One director spoke up. "That's impressive, Ms. Aurora. The international partnerships you and Ms. Duvall built have clearly paid off. The company is performing better than it was before the crisis."
I almost laughed to myself. Aurora and I had worked through that mess together—clawed back the embezzled funds, rebuilt credibility. I exchanged a look with her but she would not meet my eye.
"Thank you," I said aloud, glancing at Aurora.
"But this is only the beginning. Numbers matter, yes, but reputation matters more.
Public trust is everything. I propose a new initiative: a foundation under the company's name focused on sustainable fashion and education.
It will elevate our image and invest in future talent. "
I thought of Aurora's NGO—how much she cared about outreach—and imagined how this could strengthen both our impact and our public standing.
The room hummed with approving murmurs. Heads nodded. Aurora, however, only gave a short, dismissive chuckle. "Absolutely not."
The agreement evaporated as if someone had flipped a switch. I felt my brow rise and my jaw go tight. "Excuse me?" I said. "Since when do I need your permission for proposals I'm entitled to invoke?"
Aurora's expression hardened. "This company is not a stage for sentimentality," she said. "We are not here to parade charity while our core investments weaken."
I sat straighter, my hands tightening into fists under the table. Her words felt like daggers. Who did she think she was, undermining me in front of the board?
"Charity?" I echoed, laughing softly. "This is strategy. Public reputation drives market, Aurora. Our brand doesn't exist in a vacuum. You'd know that if—" I paused, swallowing a lump.
"If what, Ms. Duvall?" she asked, eyes narrowing, forcing me to meet her gaze.
You want to play hard? Fine, Aurora.
"If you could see beyond your pride."
Whispers from the directors didn't escape me, but I didn't care. If she wanted to pick a fight right here, right now, then she'd better bring it on.
"Not everything is about controlling the numbers," I continued when I realized Aurora still wasn't giving her comment.
"Sometimes it's about showing the world that we are more than cold ledgers and profit margins.
Or perhaps..." I paused, smirking. "Perhaps you've forgotten what the world outside your spreadsheets even looks like. "
I almost laughed when I saw her jaw clench. You want to keep going, Aurora? Go ahead. I'm not backing down.
"What I haven't forgotten," she said, voice cutting, "is how easily appearances deceive. And perhaps you, Ms. Duvall, of all people, should be careful when speaking of reputation." I blinked, not expecting that hit back.
"I understand you hold half the shares, and you have the right to propose. But need I remind you..." She leaned forward. "I still own this company."
My breath hitched, but I forced my chin up with confidence. "At least I fight for something," I murmured, low and only for her. "Even if it makes me the villain in your eyes."
Aurora fell silent for a moment before turning toward the directors. "Everyone, Ms. Duvall's proposal is rejected. DeLacroix Couture and Luxury House will not be involved in anything of that nature." Her tone left no room for argument.
"Meeting adjourned."
I leaned back in my chair, eyes shutting as the directors filed out. When I opened them, we were the only two left. I parted my lips to speak, but she stood, gathered her things, and walked out—leaving me behind. Again.
My fists clenched. I shot up and followed her, catching her wrist and forcing her to stop.
"Enough of this, Aurora," I hissed through gritted teeth. "You humiliated me in there."
She turned, her gaze dropping to my grip before she pried her wrist free. "I said what needed to be said. Don't mistake rejection for humiliation, Sloane."
There it was—my full name. Always a blade in her mouth.
I sighed and stepped closer. "Don't play it cold. This isn't about the foundation, is it? This is about her again. For God's sake, Ro, it's been what? Days? Weeks?"
You haven't cooled down?
"You're the one who stayed in a hotel suite with Margot, and you dare accuse me?" she scoffed. "You're the one who walked out of our home."
I blinked, nearly laughing in disbelief. Is she serious? For what it's worth, she was the one who wanted me out.
"You told me to leave!
" I snapped, forcing my voice not to break.
"You think I wanted any of that? You think I—" I stopped myself, choking down the argument rising in my throat.
"You never even asked me. You just assumed and threw me out like I meant nothing to you. "
"What was I supposed to assume, Sol?" she asked softly. "I saw you—under your robe—Margot in your suite—"
"She was drunk!" I shot back. "She vomited on me. I showered. That's it. But no—you'd already written the story in your head. Convenient, isn't it? It's easier to blame me than face what's happening between us. That's what you are, Aurora."
She froze, lips parting slightly before she looked away. A small, sad smile ghosted her mouth. "What's happening between us, Sol, is that... I can't trust you anymore."
I stared at her. Too long. Then a breathless, wounded laugh escaped me.
"No, Aurora," I said, shaking my head slowly. "What's happening is that you're breaking us yourself. You keep secrets, you build walls, and then you punish me when I try to knock on the door."
I'm hurting, Ro. I wanted to say it out loud. But what was the point? She'd just keep believing I slept with Margot.
She didn't respond and was about to turn away, but I caught her arm, stopping her from walking out on me again.
My body trembled. I wanted her to hug me.
To tell me she understood me. That she believed me.
That she trusted me, as her wife, and as the mother of her child.
Clicking my tongue, I forced myself to look her straight in the eyes, even though mine were burning with tears.
"You say you love me. Then show it. Show it right here, right now.
Don't sit on your throne and dictate everything like the rest of us are pawns.
" I swallowed hard, breath hitching. "Fight for us, Aurora.
Just once... fight for me instead of against me. "
Aurora ripped her arm free from my grip.
"Sloane," she said, her voice softening with something that sounded like pain, "I've been fighting all my life.
And you will never understand that." She ran a shaky hand through her hair.
"Maybe... just maybe... I'm tired of fighting everything. I'm tired of fighting you most of all."
Before I could reply, she turned and walked away from me.
Just like thirteen years ago.
A humorless smile tugged at my lips. I sniffled, wiped my face, and headed to the elevator. Once inside, I leaned against the cold metal wall and shut my eyes as tears spilled freely.
"Even now, Ro," I whispered, voice cracking, "you still leave me alone and hanging? Can't you lower your pride and listen to me for once? I loved you. I still love you. So why do you keep believing I'm having an affair with Margot?"
I wiped my cheeks, straightened up, and stepped out when the elevator chimed. I headed straight to the parking lot, slid into my car, buckled up, and drove toward the yacht bar.
I needed air. I needed noise. I needed to drown myself for a while.
At the bar, I chose a far-off counter seat and ordered a Moscow Mule. Halfway through my drink, something caught my eye. Or someone.
I blinked, rubbed my eyes, and squinted against the neon lights.
"Ro?" I whispered, seeing her walk inside the bar.
My stomach dropped.
I downed the rest of my drink in one gulp and signaled the bartender for another. "I'll be back—reserve this seat," I muttered, pointing at my stool before standing and slipping toward the private rooms.
I peeked through the door of one, frowning. What is she doing here?
Before I could step away, a woman approached, opening the door wider.
"Hi," she said sweetly, her voice brushing along my nerves. "Looking to table someone? I can offer myself... if you'd like that."
My fists clenched. No. No, no, no—Aurora would never—Then I heard her voice from inside.
"Sure."
I froze.
"What...?" The word hissed out of me. "Did she—?" A bitter laugh slipped past my lips. "She agreed to be with a woman?"
I was ready to storm inside when a waitress passed by. I stepped aside, pretending to check my phone but peeking as the door opened again.
My jaw dropped.
The woman was straddling Aurora. On her lap. Touching her face. Leaning in far too close.
That's my wife.
I wanted to rip the door off its hinges. I wanted to drag that woman off her. I wanted to scream.
Aurora's hands weren't even touching her, but she let that woman touch her face.
What the fuck?
Jaw tight, I marched back to the counter and dropped into my seat. The bartender set down my drink. I gulped it and slammed the glass down.
"Another," I muttered, trying—and failing—to calm myself. Just the memory of that woman's hands on Aurora made my chest twist.
"Is this necessary?" I whispered to myself. "Why would she do that? Why would she let someone touch her when I haven't let anyone touch me?"
I laughed bitterly when the next Moscow Mule arrived. I sipped, staring into the glass, not sure how long I sat there until someone took the seat beside me.
"I didn't expect to see you drinking here alone," a voice said. I blinked sideways. Margot. Of course.
She signaled the bartender like she owned the place. "Why are you here?" she asked.
"Drinking, obviously," I muttered, swirling my glass before taking another long sip.
She hummed and took a slow sip of vodka. "Right," Margot said, leaning toward me. "We need to talk about what happened in the suite."
I lifted my glass but didn't drink. "There's nothing to talk about, Margot."
"There is." Her tone hardened.
I finished my drink, slammed the empty glass down, and ordered another. "Then what is it?"
Margot rubbed her brow and sighed. "Look—I know we crossed a line that night, and I'm sorry. But if anything came from it, I want to take responsibility."
My frown deepened. "I'm sorry, what? What the hell are you talking about?"
She chuckled and rubbed her lip. "You're not subtle, Sloane. Something definitely happened between us that night, otherwise why would my clothes be unfastened?"
I blinked, then laughed and rolled my eyes—not because it was funny, but because it was infuriating.
"Have you lost your mind?" I pointed. "You were drunk, Margot, not high on drugs.
Why would you assume something happened just because your clothes were unfastened? That's... absurd."
"Look," Margot pressed. "Whatever happened, I'll take responsibility—especially if I got you pregnant."
My jaw dropped. "What...?" I laughed, clapped my hands, then grabbed my glass and gulped it down. I was about to speak when my body froze. The same woman from the private room where Aurora was staying slid up beside Margot, one hand skimming Margot's shoulder.
"Hi," she said, smiling too sweetly.
A cold snap ran through me. I cleared my throat to get her attention. She tilted her head and smiled again. I beckoned with a finger; to my surprise, she sauntered over and stopped in front of me.
My gaze tracked her—then snapped to her face. Without thinking, I splashed my drink into her eyes and jumped up, fingers tangling in her hair. "What the fuck are you smiling at?" I hissed, tightening my grip.
Margot lunged for me; I shoved her aside and dragged the woman by the hair as she clawed at my hands. I kicked her in the stomach and slammed her against the counter. No one rushed in—phones came out, people filmed.
I hauled her face up until she met my eyes, then pressed her cheek hard into the bar. "Who told you to straddle my wife in that private room?" I snarled. "Do you want me to slash your throat?"
"Sloane, stop it," Margot begged, but I didn't let go.
"Don't play innocent," I hissed, clutching a fistful of her hair and dragging her face across the counter, pressing it hard against the lacquer.
I jabbed a finger in her face. "If I see you hanging around my wife again, I will make whatever career you have in Monaco disappear in an instant.
Touch my wife like you own her, and I'll ruin your face and your life until you regret ever messing with someone who's already been claimed.
You don't get to lay your filthy hands on her.
Try it again and you'll see what I mean. "
?·???°???°???·?
Drumming my fingers on the steering wheel, I tilted my head, studying the mansion before me. It's been a while since I've been here. I'm not even sure what's worse—running into Aurora or the silence that might greet me instead.
I shook the thought off, though the frustration still simmered beneath my skin. A bitter laugh escaped me as I leaned back in the seat and shut my eyes. "Who would've thought I'd end up fighting someone over my wife?" I muttered, shaking my head.
My body jolted when my phone rang from the dashboard. Soeren's name flashed across the screen. With a sigh, I tapped to answer and set it on loudspeaker.
"Sis!" Soeren's voice rang out so loud I nearly winced. His tone carried the kind of exasperation only siblings could perfect. "What the heck did you do?"
"What did I even do?" I asked, resting my elbow against the window frame, my gaze fixed on the porch of our house.
"Goodness gracious, sis!" he groaned. "Have you forgotten you're a CEO? A business owner? Why would you—why would you cause a scandal in a bar? What was that about? And where the hell are you? It's late, and you haven't been home yet!"
I chuckled under my breath, shaking my head.
"What now, Soeren? Does your sister still have a curfew?
" I teased, lips curling faintly. "Relax, I'm in front of my house—well, our house.
Aurora's and mine." My tongue clicked softly.
"As for the bar incident, let the media do what they do best. They'll twist anything they can get their hands on. "
A sharp sigh came through the speaker. "Sis," he started again, voice gentler this time. "The media's been talking about you and Margot nonstop. They're saying you're having an affair. Aren't you going to clear that up?"
"Are you seriously believing them?" I shot back, my voice low.
Silence stretched for a few seconds before he exhaled again. "I know you wouldn't, but still... letting them stir things like this, and fighting with your wife over it—it's getting out of hand. Don't you think it's time to draw the line?"
"Soeren," I said, my tone shifting. "Tell me—what did you find out about what I asked you to look into? It's been months. Does Margot have anything to do with it?"
He hesitated. "Sis... maybe you should come home first. We'll talk about it then."
I hummed quietly, eyes still fixed on the porch. "I'll head back soon. I just need to grab a document from my study." Without waiting for a response, I ended the call and stepped out of the car.
The night air was cool against my skin as I walked up to the porch. Scanning my access card, I unlocked the door. The silence inside was immediate—thick and familiar.
I closed the door softly and started down the hallway, glancing around for any sign of Aurora. Her cars were all parked in the garage, which meant she had to be here. My steps slowed instinctively, careful, as if even the floorboards might betray me. No sign of her.
Swallowing the tightness in my throat, I turned toward the bedroom hallway.
At my study, I unlocked the door and slipped inside. The faint glow of the night lamp cast a soft light over the neatly stacked folders. My fingers brushed across their spines until I found the one I was looking for.
"There it is," I murmured, pulling it out. After flipping through it briefly, I closed it and turned off the lamp.
The dim light in the hallway seemed to seep into me as I stepped out. She hasn't reached out once since that night. Not even after the last board meeting.
My steps faltered when I passed the master bedroom. My hand hovered over the doorknob. "Is she asleep?" I whispered, twisting it open just enough to peek inside. Cold air and dim light greeted me—no Aurora.
My brow furrowed as I stepped inside. "Where the hell is she?" I muttered, leaving the door half-open behind me. I set the folder on the console and crossed to the bathroom. Empty.
"Maybe she's in the guest room again," I mumbled, about to leave—but something pulled me toward the wardrobe. I walked in, scanning my side of the closet. My lips pressed into a thin line. "I don't think I'll be back here anytime soon."
The bitterness stung as I clicked my tongue. "She doesn't even want to talk to me anymore," I whispered. "How long are we going to keep fighting, Ro?"
I busied myself with picking out a few clothes, folding them neatly before stuffing them into my duffel bag. Once it was full, I zipped it shut and slung the strap over my shoulder.
I was halfway to the door when I froze. Aurora stood beside the console, the door now closed behind her.
My heart slammed against my ribs as our eyes met. She took a long pull from the bottle of wine in her hand. Even from here, I could smell it on her—sweet, sharp, and heavy.
"Ro," my voice cracked as I swallowed hard, forcing a small step forward. "Don't be mad, okay? I just came to get something from my study. I know you haven't reached out yet, that's why I'm not staying."
She said nothing—only stared at me blankly, her throat moving as she took another swallow.
"Don't drink too much, okay?" I murmured, reaching for the folder I'd come for. "You'll end up with a stomachache later. And..." My voice faltered as I took her in. "You look—disheveled."
Her face was flushed, eyes rimmed red, shadows pooling under them. Her hair looked like it hadn't been brushed in days.
"Ro... what are you doing to yourself?" I asked softly. "If you don't want to talk, fine—but don't drown yourself in liquor."
Still no answer.
Just silence and the faint tremor of her breath.
My lips twitched into a sad smile as my vision blurred.
"I think I should go," I whispered. I reached out, brushing my thumb across her cheek.
Her skin was warm—too warm. She stilled, licking her lower lip as her gaze flicked up to mine.
Up close, I could see how much she'd changed. Her cheekbones were sharper, her frame thinner. Is she even eating?
"Ro," I sighed. "Please take care of yourself. I'm not here to cook for you anymore, but at least eat properly. And stop drinking so much."
I turned toward the door, shaking my head. My hand was on the knob when she caught my wrist. Her grip was firm, desperate.
"Sloey..."
Her voice was hoarse, cracked around the edges. She blinked, taking one last sip from the bottle before setting it aside. My pulse stuttered as she stepped closer.
The scent of wine wrapped around me, thick and heady. Her necktie hung loose, two buttons undone, sleeves rolled carelessly to her elbows.
"Aurora, what are you—"
Before I could finish, she grabbed my face and kissed me.
Hard. Rough. Desperate.
The folder slipped from my grasp, the duffel strap sliding off my shoulder. Everything crashed to the floor.
I hitched my breath when her arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer. Her mouth tasted faintly of wine—sweet, sharp, intoxicating. I gasped, and she seized the opening, sliding her tongue against mine, claiming every breath I tried to take.
My hands fumbled with the buttons of her shirt as she guided us toward the bed. Cloth fell away in quick, impatient movements—her shirt, my blouse—until all I felt was heat and frustration and the electric push of her mouth against mine.
I pushed her, not hard enough to hurt but hard enough to make her stumble onto the mattress. Her back hit the headboard as she steadied herself, eyes lifting to meet mine... cold. A chill ran down my spine.
I climbed onto her lap, grabbed her jaw, and glared down at her.
"What the hell were you doing at that bar?
" I demanded, my voice shaking with anger and the remnants of desire.
"Letting someone else touch you? Letting someone else grind on you when I'm the one who—" My breath hitched.
"I should be the one touching you. Owning you. You know you're mine, Ro."
Aurora scoffed; her expression unreadable, almost deadened.
When she caught my wrist, her grip was steady, grounding, and infuriating all at once.
"The same thing you were doing with Margot in that hotel suite," she said quietly, the corner of her mouth lifting in a humorless laugh.
Heat rose in my chest—anger, guilt, something darker.
I snapped, dragging her face toward mine and crashing my mouth against hers.
The kiss was sharp, punishing, desperate.
She groaned and pulled me closer, her hands tracing down my spine before she unhooked my bra with infuriating ease.
Her mouth found my neck, my shoulder, everything she knew would weaken me. I couldn't hold back the soft cry that escaped when her hands cupped me, when her mouth moved lower, when her breath ghosted over skin she knew too well.
"Ro!" I gasped when she tore my skirt in one impatient motion. My eyes widened. She only shrugged, unbothered, as if she didn't care that she'd just shredded one of my favorite skirts.
"Come here," she murmured low, pulling me back to her.
I went because my body knew her. Because even when we fought, even when we broke each other open, we didn't let go.
Her touch, her intensity, the way she looked at me—like she was daring me to run, daring me to stay—it all blended into something I couldn't name but desperately needed.
Our movements blurred into a fevered rhythm, desire overtaking anger, anger fueling desire. I clung to her, to the heat of her body, to the way she looked at me when she wasn't pretending to be unaffected.
When she kissed me again, I cupped her face, forcing her to meet my eyes. "I love you, Ro," I whispered, voice raw. "Can you please trust me? I'm not doing anything wrong. I'm not having an affair." I kissed her before she could argue.
The rest of the night passed in pieces—heat, whispered apologies, sharp breaths, the quiet ache of two people trying to believe each other again.
By dawn, my body felt wrung out, sore in every place she'd touched. Aurora slept on her stomach, one arm heavy around my waist, lips parted, breathing deep and unguarded.
I brushed a fingertip down her nose, unable to stop the small smile tugging at my lips, and leaned in to press a kiss to her forehead.
Carefully, I lifted her arm and slipped out of bed. I gathered my clothes, showered, and tried to ignore the hollowness settling in my chest.
Aurora was still asleep when I finished. I looked at her one last time, her hair messy, her breathing soft.
"Well," I murmured to the quiet room, forcing a shrug, "maybe I'll just wait for her to reach out first."
And with that lie tucked somewhere under my ribs, I walked out, leaving the house as if we hadn't set fire to each other just hours before.