Chapter 90
Curling up on the bed, I clutched the hoodie Aurora used to wear and pressed my face into it.
Her scent—faint now, barely there—still rose from the fabric, scraping against the raw edges of my grief.
Every time I closed my eyes, her face met me in the dark: her radiant smile from our university days, her laughter, her lips, every part of her replaying like a memory determined to haunt me.
It had been days since her burial, but sleep rarely visited.
I lay still for a moment, staring at the ceiling, my arms stretched above me as if I could pull myself back into her orbit.
The house felt hollow. Quiet in a way that wasn't peaceful—quiet in a way that felt abandoned.
Swallowing hard, I forced myself upright and dragged my feet out of the cold bedroom.
In nothing but shorts and one of Aurora's sweaters, I walked through the hallway.
Wearing her clothes felt like the only way to fill the emptiness—just as I'd done when she left me years before.
My fingers raked through my hair as I headed for her study.
I flicked the lights on.
Her desk.
Her untouched books. Her computer. Her whiteboard—still covered in raw sketches from her last fashion collection.
Seeing it nearly buckled my knees. I sank into her executive chair, the leather cold against my skin, and shut my eyes, trying—futilely—to feel some trace of her.
"I miss you, still, honey," I whispered into the quiet.
When I opened my eyes, the frames on her desk stared back at me: her portrait, the one of us together, the photo of her, me, and Dione last Christmas. The last ultrasound.
The pain surged. My hand flew to my chest as my breathing spiraled, the air growing thin, as if grief itself pressed down on my lungs.
I squeezed my eyes shut and counted to ten until the pressure eased.
"If only I had a time machine, Ro," I murmured, leaning back. "If only I could go back—back to when you were alive, when you were still with us."
Blinking through the sting of tears, I opened the drawer beside me. My vision blurred as I reached inside and pulled out a sketchpad. Raw designs filled the pages, her pencil strokes as familiar as her handwriting. When I turned another page, I froze.
A new title.
Dawn Collection.
Unfinished. The last page held a half–drawn piece, delicate and incomplete.
"When did you draw this...?" I whispered.
A sudden blare erupted from my phone, making me jump. For a moment, I almost ignored it—but something inside me insisted I pick up. I answered without checking the caller ID. "Hello?"
I listened—and then stood so fast the chair slammed backward.
"Where?" My voice was tight, my fingers curling into a fist. "I'm coming," I said, ending the call.
My trembling hands closed the sketchpad. I slid it back into the drawer and shoved it shut. Then I ran out of the study, the lights flicked off, door slammed behind me.
I was halfway down the hallway when I stopped short.
Thalia and Dione were on the couch—Dione sitting upright, her eyes locking onto mine the moment she saw me.
"Thalia," I said, breathless. "Can you stay with her? I... I need to go out for a while. Please keep her company."
Dione's gaze snapped to me. "Where are you going, Mommy? Can I come?"
I shook my head and hurried to her, cupping her cheeks despite my shaking hands. "No, sweetheart. You can't come this time." I pressed a kiss to her forehead.
Her small fingers wrapped around my wrist, stopping me mid-step. "Why?" she asked, searching my face. "Mommy..." She grasped my hand, small fingers trembling, and I gently pried my own away.
"Sweetie, mommy will be back," I murmured, though the lie felt like gravel in my throat. "Just... I'll be back, okay?"
I turned, but a grip on my wrist stopped me. Thalia. Her fingers wrapped firmly around my skin, her eyes sharp.
"Where exactly are you going, Sloane?"
I swallowed the lump rising in my chest, leaning closer so only she could hear. "I may have... a lead on the gunman." My voice dropped to a whisper. "Thalia, I need you here for Dione. Please. I'll come back."
I tried to pull away, but she didn't budge.
"Your daughter just lost Aurora," she hissed quietly, glancing at the little girl behind me.
"You both just lost her. And now you're leaving her alone, too?
Sloane, leave this to the authorities. You can't put the law in your own hands. That's not justice."
"Justice won't work if the suspect is just as influential as we are," I snapped back. My wrist twisted against her grip. "Please, Thalia. Just keep Dione safe until I get back."
Thalia stared at me—hurt, fear, anger, all warring in her eyes—before she shut them, breathing out sharply. "Fine," she said, checking her watch. "But you need to be back by eight p.m. sharp. If you're not home by then, I'm calling the authorities."
"I will. Thank you," I said quickly, already moving.
I ran to the garage, slid into the driver's seat, and barely clicked the seatbelt before starting the engine. I pulled out my phone mid-turn and hit Soeren's number. He picked up on the first ring.
"Sis?"
"Soeren," I said, taking another sharp corner. "Call the authorities. I'll send you the address."
"What? What authorities? Where the hell are you—"
"Just call them," I cut him off. "I'm on my way." I ended the call before he could argue and sent the pinned location.
The drive felt like a blur of headlights and rain-slick roads. When I finally reached the address, I parked and exhaled. My hand hovered over the door handle, then I grabbed my phone again and switched the audio recorder on, sliding it into my pocket.
I stepped out into the cold air.
The building was half-rotten, leaning into the dark like it wanted to collapse. Somewhere on the outskirts of Monaco, tucked along the forgotten edges of Old Town. Perfect place for nightmares to breathe.
The front door hung half open. I pushed it gently and stepped inside.
Silence swallowed everything. Too thick. Too deliberate.
My footsteps echoed against concrete. Water dripped steadily somewhere. My shadow stretched long on the floor, warping, as if inching ahead of me into danger.
"You came."
The voice floated forward, smooth as silk and twice as lethal.
A figure stepped into the thin strip of light, and recognition hit me like a blow.
"Margot," I said, a humorless chuckle slipping out. "Long time no see."
She hummed, casual, almost relaxed. Too relaxed. A storm raged outside—thunder cracking, lightning flaring—and there she stood with a gun dangling from her fingertips like it was nothing more than jewelry.
"Heard about your wife's death?" she asked, clicking her tongue. She tilted her head, lips curling. "You know what, Sloane? That's Aurora's fault."
Something inside me went numb.
Margot laughed, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "She really thought she'd die in your arms? Held by your love? And I'd be left with nothing?"
Her laughter rose—thin, hysterical, unhinged.
"No," she whispered. "If I can't have you, then neither can Aurora." She gave a delighted, cruel smile. "Fair enough, right?"
Heaving a sigh, I looked at her—really looked at her. "Margot," I said, stepping forward. "Were you the one who tried to shoot me on New Year's Eve?" I stopped right in front of her.
She grinned and lifted my chin with two fingers. "Yeah. The bullet was supposed to be yours. How could I let her have you when I can't?" Her smile sharpened. "It's only fair I took you out, right? If I can't have you, then Aurora doesn't get to have you either."
My hand shot up, ready to slap her, but she caught my wrist and yanked me close, her arm snaking around my waist.
"My, my," she murmured, leaning in, her breath brushing my cheek. "Look at what happened. How fragile she was. Always dying, always leaving you behind."
I scoffed and shoved her as hard as I could, ripping myself from her hold. "You're a disgusting piece of shit, Margot. I regret ever calling you a friend."
She arched a brow, laughing.
"Disgusting? Your wife is the one who waltzed back into your life after abandoning you.
She's always taken you away from me. But maybe it's a blessing she died like that.
At least now you're free. Free for me." She pressed a hand to her chest, mock sincere.
"I can replace her if you want. I can be Aurora.
We'll just pretend Margot is the one who died.
Don't you love that idea? We could be a perfect family, Sloane. "
Free. That single word burned through me. Who the hell did she think she was? Replacing Aurora? She wasn't even a shadow of my wife.
"You shot her twice, Margot," I said, my voice shaking with fury. "My wife died because the trauma from your bullets worsened her leukemia. You knew what you were doing. You aimed at her because you knew she'd protect me."
She snapped her fingers, grinning. "Bingo. I knew you'd get it. You really are worth loving."
My pulse thundered in my ears. I opened my mouth to speak, but she beat me to it.
"Oh, and the hit-and-run?" She chuckled darkly. "That was me."
"What...?" My jaw dropped as I stared at her. "What did you say?"
She shrugged and sauntered toward me, twirling the gun around her finger. "I could give you another child, you know. Why carry a baby for someone who was already dying? I can be better for you, Sloane. I can—"
Before she could finish, rage snapped something inside me. I lunged, grabbed her hair, and slammed her against the wall.
"Fuck you! Fuck you, Margot!" I screamed.
I stepped toward her again, but she drove her knee into my stomach. Pain exploded through me, forcing me to double over.
She grabbed my hair, jerking my head back until I had no choice but to look at her. She wore a wild, triumphant smirk.
"There's nothing you can do now," she whispered. "Whether you like it or not, I'll take you for myself." She struck my face with the barrel of the gun, sending me sprawling onto the floor.
She climbed on top of me, straddling my hips, tearing at my clothes.
"Get off me, you fucking lunatic!" I hissed, thrashing beneath her. She pinned my wrists to the cold floor, her grip bruising.
She laughed—short, sharp, unhinged—and dragged her tongue along my jaw. "Fight all you want, Sloane. No one's coming."
I swallowed hard, forcing myself still, her breath hot and vile on my skin. A bitter, icy laugh escaped me as Aurora's face flashed in my mind—her blood, her last breath, the child I lost.
"You want to play dirty, Margot?" I whispered. "Fine."
Soeren would be here soon. He had the address. If not... my phone's recording was running. And I would make damn sure Margot paid for everything.
My tears streamed down my face as I felt her lips on my skin—unwanted, revolting. I only ever wanted Aurora. My wife.
"Freeze!"
The door slammed open with a force that shook the walls. Margot cursed under her breath and scrambled off me. A deafening bang echoed as she fired at the police.
"You called the authorities?!" she roared.
I curled in on myself, hands clamped over my ears as sobs tore out of me. Aurora's pain slammed into me all at once—her white cashmere sweater soaked with blood, the way she coughed crimson into her hands. Every memory hit like a blade.
"Sis!"
The voice cut through the chaos, familiar and desperate. I couldn't process anything until a pair of hands reached me—pulling, lifting.
"Let me go! Let me go! Please don't touch—"
"Sis, it's me. It's me, Soeren."
At the sound of his name, my eyes snapped open. My brother was kneeling in front of me, gathering me into his arms.
"Soeren..." My voice cracked as I buried my face against his chest, sobbing.
"Come on," he whispered, lifting me gently. "Let's get you out of here." A police officer guided us toward the exit as gunfire continued behind us, sharp and relentless.
Even outside, within the secured perimeter, the shots kept coming. Police swarmed everywhere, roads blocked, lights flashing like frantic heartbeats.
"Are you hurt?" Soeren asked urgently, searching my face. "Did she hurt you?" His jaw clenched as he touched the bruise on my cheekbone. "That bastard."
I shook, tears blurring everything. "She... she killed my wife. And my child, Soeren."
"...what?" His eyes widened.
"She admitted it." My voice trembled as I slipped out of his arms and took out my phone. I stopped the recording and hit play, letting him hear every word Margot said.
Soeren's face twisted with fury. "What the fuck?" he muttered, snatching the phone. "And you really came here with just this recording?"
I nodded weakly. "I figured... if you couldn't get to me in time, at least I'd have the proof." My fingers tightened around the sleeve of Aurora's hoodie. "I should still have Ro. If Margot hadn't shot her, I wouldn't have lost her. I wouldn't have lost—"
"Hush." Soeren pulled me close again, one hand stroking my hair. "Hush, sis. I'm here. We're here."
"I miss her. I miss my wife."
I stayed there in his arms—protected, grounded—while everything inside the building spiraled into chaos. Yelling. Orders shouted. Gunfire cracking again and again.
Then... silence.
A heavy, suffocating silence.
Police rushed in and out. Medics appeared with a stretcher. My stomach twisted as they emerged again, carrying a body draped with a bloodstained white sheet.
"Mrs. DeLacroix." An officer approached us, his expression solemn. "The suspect, Margot Verne, died during the encounter."
My tears fell again—not from relief, not from victory, but from something hollow. Something bleak. I didn't know what hurt more: losing Aurora and our unborn child... or knowing Margot died without ever facing what she did.
Maybe this is what justice looks like. Maybe it isn't.
"Sis." Soeren's voice cut through the fog. He squeezed my shoulder gently. "Go home. I'll handle everything here. Just... go back to Dione, okay?"
He cupped my face and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead before ushering me toward the car. "Go home safely."
I moved without feeling my own feet. My body was heavy, numb. Justice was supposed to feel like something final, something righteous.
But Margot died quickly.
And my wife died slowly, painfully, in my arms.
And somehow... nothing felt fair.
?·???°???°???·?
I don't know what had come over me. I should've gone home like Soeren told me to, but instead I found myself parked on the road facing Aurora's tombstone. The rain still hadn't stopped. Thunder and lightning tore across the sky, but I didn't care.
My feet felt glued to the grass as I stared down at the stone. "You could've stayed a bit longer, Ro," I whispered, blinking away tears that mixed with the downpour.
Clutching my ripped, soaked sweater, I lowered myself onto the wet grass, letting the memories, the pain, and the rain swallow me whole.
"Margot's dead.
She's responsible for everything." I brushed my fingers over the engraved letters of my wife's name, a faint, broken smile tugging at my lips.
"I haven't told you, but... I lost our second child.
" A bitter laugh escaped me. "I hope you're not disappointed in me.
I didn't make it back in time with your gelato.
We didn't get to enjoy that stupid couple flavor we always picked.
Did you wait for me until your last breath, Ro? "
The rain hammered harder against my skin, its coldness sinking deep into my bones. "I'm tired, Ro," I whispered, my voice cracking. "I lost you and our child at the same time. I don't even know who I'm supposed to mourn first."
"I miss you so much." The admission tore out of me, raw and shaking. "Every single fucking day, I miss you. I lived with you by my side from the moment we married. You let me get so comfortable with your presence... only for you to leave me just like that."
Fatigue pulled at me, urging me to rest, but I stayed. I stayed in front of her tombstone because I needed someone—anyone—to hold the weight of my pain with me.
"Do you believe in reincarnation?" I asked quietly, tilting my face to the sky and letting the cold raindrops strike my skin. "If it's real... I hope we're reborn together." I let out a soft, humorless laugh at how ridiculous the idea sounded.
"I hope to see you again. Even in a dream. I hope I get to hug you, kiss you... feel you beside me again, Ro."
A gentle breeze brushed against me, as if she were there—letting me know she hadn't left completely. That somehow she was still watching over me and our daughter.
My chest caved, and I curled into myself, hugging my knees as I sobbed. I felt like a child who'd lost their way—unfound, unseen, undone.
"I thought losing you a decade ago was already unbearable," I whispered. "But losing you both physically and emotionally? God, Ro... it's destroying me."
I cried in front of her grave as if she could hear me, as if she could reach out and hold me the way she used to. The way I needed her to.
My body moved on its own—mechanical, drained.
The rain showed no signs of stopping, so I forced myself back to the car, slipping inside and shutting the door.
I sat there for a moment, listening to the storm crash around me, until my eyes drifted to the glove compartment.
Inside, the pistol lay untouched.
My throat tightened. I picked it up. Sniffling, I lifted the gun to my jaw and closed my eyes.
My finger brushed the trigger. A sob ripped out of me—then my phone chimed. Once. Twice. Again.
I exhaled shakily and opened my eyes, the gun still poised under my jaw. My whole body froze when I saw the name lighting up the screen.
Aurora.
The gun slipped from my hand and clattered to the floor. I gasped, grabbing my phone with trembling fingers and opening the notification. A voice message.
I pressed play.
"Hi, Sloey! This is a voice message. I recorded it in advance and saved it for future use. If you're receiving this, then... I guess I died? I'm so sorry, my Sol."
Her voice—my wife's voice—shattered me. My head throbbed as fresh tears spilled, sharp and merciless, like a thousand needles striking my chest.
"I tried to fight alongside you," she continued. "But my body was already giving in. I couldn't fight back anymore. But... I'm happy I got to have you again in this life. And hey, with a freebie Dione, I guess?"
She laughed softly—alive and warm and so painfully her.
"I have a lot of letters left for you.
I've actually written so many over the twelve years we weren't together.
I have a storage room for them. I even prepared gifts for Dione—for every birthday, even when she's old enough.
As for her trust fund, my lawyer will handle everything, and Thalia is aware of it all. "
The recording went silent. Only my ragged sobs echoed inside the car.
"Sol," she said, her voice softer now. "I know this is going to be hard for you... but please, don't try to do anything. I'll be sad if you hurt yourself."
As if she already knew what I was capable of, she said exactly the words I needed to hear—and feared the most.
"I love you, Sol.
I want you to live. Be with our daughter.
Enjoy your life even without me. Even if I'm not physically around, my memory will stay with you.
Dione needs her mommy. Be there for her.
Wherever I am right now, I'm fine. Don't miss me too much.
We have a daughter who needs her mother. "
"Dione..." I whispered, my gaze shifting from the gun to the glowing screen of my phone.
"I love you, Sloey. My wife. My sun. My Sol." Her voice trembled. "There are more voice messages coming your way soon, so wait for the next one, okay? I need to go. I love you to the moon and back, my Sol."
A broken laugh escaped me—part disbelief, part agony. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry," I whispered over and over, clutching my phone as if it could anchor me. "I'm so sorry." I pushed the gun into the compartment, my hands shaking, and placed my phone onto the holder.
I buckled my seatbelt and started the engine, brushing away tears that kept blurring my vision. I pressed harder on the accelerator, desperate to get home.
The moment the mansion came into view, I pulled over abruptly, killed the ignition, and stumbled out of the car. I slammed the door behind me and sprinted toward the house.
"Dione!" I yelled—only to freeze when I saw her at the dining table with Thalia.
Breathless, I rushed to her.
"Mommy?" Dione's eyes widened. "What happened to you?" She walked toward me, concern etched on her face.
My legs gave out. I dropped to my knees and wrapped my arms around her, sobbing into her small shoulder. "I'm sorry, sweetie. Mommy's so sorry." I held her tight—too tight—because for a moment, I had been willing to leave her behind.
I almost left my daughter alone. I almost chose to disappear like Aurora had.
"I'm here. I'm not going anywhere," I murmured, rubbing her back as if I could promise safety through touch alone.
She didn't understand the words spilling out of me, not all of them, but she hugged me back anyway—and that broke me even more. I had been selfish. I forgot I wasn't just Aurora's wife. I was Dione's mother.
"I know you miss your pops," I said as I pulled back, cupping her cheeks gently, "but Mommy's here. We'll get through everything together, okay? I'll always be here."
If this was what Aurora wanted, then I would do it. I wasn't just her wife—I was the mother of her child. And no matter what it cost me, I would remain hers. Even if loving her ruined me for the rest of my life.