He Moved On
Valeria
Inspector Sanders joins us at the manor around six-thirty that evening.
“I have news,” he announces as he takes a seat at the table across from Stephen, Mara, and me. “The investigating judge approved your complaint and authorized the opening of a formal inquiry for premeditated attempted murder. Ms. Fabre’s phone is now under surveillance.”
He pauses before turning toward me. His expression is direct, almost grim.
“We owe you an apology. I reviewed the fire investigation file. My predecessor handled the case with a level of carelessness I still can’t explain. He ruled it an accident… even though the mandatory technical report was far less conclusive.”
I frown, a dull tension already creeping into my chest.
“What do you mean?”
“The report states that the main door and that entire section of the room had been completely destroyed by the fire.”
His words barely register before everything shifts.
And suddenly, I’m there again. Back in that kitchen. The man holding me captive. The syringe in his hand. Bianca watching without intervening. And that cold, absolute certainty:
I wasn’t going to make it out alive.
A hand closes gently around mine—soft, steady, real.
It pulls me out of the nightmare before I can drown in it.
I turn toward Mara, unable to speak for a second.
She looks at me without saying a word, but everything is there: concern, presence, that quiet strength of hers.
I give her a faint, grateful smile.
She barely nods, as if encouraging me, then slowly releases my hand.
I swallow hard.
“He slammed my head against the wall. Right before I collapsed onto the floor.” My voice sounds far away. “I caught sight of a third pair of shoes. There were three people in the room.”
The inspector nods sympathetically.
“Yes, I know. You told me during your statement. I just wanted you to know we now have evidence corroborating your testimony.”
Silence settles heavily over the room.
“I’m currently reviewing all the witness statements from back then,” he continues. “And if necessary, I’ll reinterview everyone. Someone must have seen something that night, even if they didn’t realize what they were witnessing.”
He pauses, and something in his expression softens.
“I promise you that this time, justice won’t fail you.”
His words affect me more than I want to admit.
“Thank you, Inspector.”
Mara and Stephen leave with him.
A heavy quiet settles over the room.
And then...
Everything catches up with me.
Alone in the vastness of the manor, my thoughts drift back to Dante.
To the icy look in his eyes when he told me he regretted every moment he’d spent with me.
And then, despite myself, other memories surface.
Our first date in Montmartre. The cool evening wind. My heart pounding uncontrollably. Our awkward laughter. And that first hesitant kiss on the steps of Sacré-C?ur.
Then our first night together in my tiny student bedroom on Christmas Eve.
He had been my first.
My only love.
I remember the birth of our company seven years earlier. The sleepless nights, the doubts, the excitement. Our hands intertwined over scribbled blueprints. Dreams far too ambitious...
And yet we built them together.
Aurenza.
Our project.
Our life.
Then our wedding.
Him carrying me across the threshold of our apartment. His laughter. His silent promise.
And now...
His voice still echoes in my head, merciless.
“I regret ever loving you. I regret ever knowing you.”
“At least she doesn’t push me away.”
Every word cuts into me. Sharp. Irreversible.
He’s moved on. Completely.
And me...
I don’t even know when I started lying to myself.
When I started hoping again, refusing to let go of a love that still consumes me.
But this time...
It’s over.
In three days, he’s marrying Bianca.