Chapter 26
THE HARDEST TEST
To hold on or to let go
Dorian
I barely slept.
Every time I closed my eyes, that horrific image of Della head down in that chair, slammed into my mind.
Then, my brain would supply its own fresh hell: the thoughts of what she went through five years ago, alone.
The guilt is a physical thing, chewing on my insides, and remorse is a bitter acid in my throat.
Watching her sleep peacefully and breathing so soft, the ruby – she wears it – resting on her skin was the thing that tempered the demons inside. Holding her in my arms, her body molded to mine gives me the hope that nightmares are over and we can start a new day, a new chapter.
As if the Universe is eavesdropping on my thoughts, the Californian sun enters the window bringing light and something more… faith in a new beginning.
Her hair, spread across the pillow, seems to catch fire in the morning light and her skin is glowing.
I feel her move and I know she is waking up.
“Mornin’,” I whisper in her hair, my voice a rough rasp, desperate to prolong this single moment of peace.
She tenses. Then, slowly, she turns to face me. Her eyes are wide, bruised, and... guarded.
The soft, open Della from the lake house is gone. The woman who came to Chicago is back.
“Mornin’,” she answers, her voice flat. “Did you sleep at all?”
“I’m fine.” I stroke her face, her hair, needing to touch, to confirm she's real. I have to tell her. I have to get it out. "Della, about what Leah said..."
“Dorian, I really do not want to start the day talking about Leah after last night.” And she lifts up covering herself with the cover… a shield between us.
The empty space where she was laying in my arms, moments ago, is instantly cold. “Della, please. We need to talk.” I reach for her hand, but she’s already moving away.
“Why, Dorian? What difference does it make?” Her voice is tired, hollow.
“It makes a difference to me. I need you to know what happened. The truth.”
“No,” she says, and the word is sharp, final. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this right now. I just want to go to the police, give my statement, and see her rot in jail.” She grabs a few clothes from the wardrobe and heads to the bathroom.
“Della…” and the bathroom door shuts before I can say anything.
* * *
Della
My hands are shaking and I try to stop them by grabbing the edges of the porcelain sink.
I look at the woman in the mirror and I don’t recognize her, but I know her.
A ghost. The ghost I’ve been for five years.
What’s wrong with you? I ask the ghost. He came for you. He’s here for you. Listen to his story, too.”
I shake my head, splashing cold water on my face “No.”
The armor isn't a choice; it's a reflex. Last night, the terror of being bound and helpless again, has slammed every door in my heart shut and locked it from the inside.
I can't. I can't be vulnerable. I can't listen to his reasons. Because his reasons, his past, his wife, held a shard of glass to my throat and tried to kill me.
I know this drill. I get dressed; I brush my hair in precise motions. I’m not building a new armor. I’m putting on the one I never should have taken off.
* * *
Dorian
The police officer shakes my hand, his expression a mask of professional sympathy. "We'll be in touch, Mr. Marshall. You all did well."
We leave the police station, the California sun feeling offensively bright. David looks at me, and I see the unspoken question in his eyes. What’s going on with you two?
I wish I had an answer. Della barely said a word to me since she walked out of that bathroom. She rode in the back of the SUV. In the station, she was a perfect witness—cold, precise, and objective, as if she were describing a movie she'd seen, not a nightmare she'd lived.
The moment we hit the sidewalk, she turns—not toward us, but toward the ocean.
“Della, where are you going?” I call out.
“I need to be alone,” she says, not looking back, and just keeps walking.
My first instinct is to follow, to grab her, to not let her out of my sight. David puts a hand on my arm. "Let her breathe, man. She's been through a lot."
His words hit me harder than a fist. He’s right. I watch her walk away, every step an agony, and force myself to stay put.
* * *
Della
I take off my shoes and I don’t stop until my feet touch the water. I walk on the wet sand, the water caressing my ankles, and just... breathe. The noise, the fluorescent lights, the questions, the presence of Dorian—it was all too much.
I bit her. I fought back. But I don’t feel strong. I feel tired, enraged and... empty. Hollowed out.
“Chiquita?”
I turn. Silvia is standing a few feet away, holding two smoothies. My eyes instantly fill with tears. A woman’s presence, a friend is what I need.
She doesn't ask a thing. She just hands me her delicious “Red fruits and pink secret” smoothie she makes.
"I figured you'd need to be close to the water," she says, her voice soft. We stand in silence, watching the waves roll in.
“I would love to drown all of it in the ocean but I fear it will resurface somewhere, someday.”
"You don't have to talk about it," she says. "But I just want you to know how proud I am of you. You fought back, Della. You bit the bitch."
Her words... they're not a question, not a demand. They're a gift. She’s not asking how I feel. She’s telling me what I did. It's the validation I didn't know I was screaming for. Another tear escapes and rolls down my cheek, hot and stinging.
"I'm so tired, Chiquita," I whisper. “And furious.”
"I know," she says, bumping her shoulder against mine. "So be tired. And furious. Feel it all as it comes. I've got you."
We stay like that for a while. When the smoothie’s gone, she takes my empty cup.
"I'll go inside. You see that monster of a man standing over by the boardwalk, trying to pretend he's not watching us?" She nods toward Dorian, wearing his usual black outfit and looking like a statue of barely-leashed tension. "Let him come to you or he will drill a hole in the pavement."
I nod and she leaves.
I'm alone again, but the hollowness is gone. The emptiness is filled with a new, fragile, and terrifying resolve. I know what I have to do.
* * *
Dorian
She’s still on the beach with Silvia, just... staring at the ocean. I can’t take it anymore and, the moment, I see Silvia standing up and walking towards me, I move.
“You can go now. But, Dorian… take it easy.” Silvia’s voice is soft but firm.
I cross the sand, my shoes sinking, so I take them off. She doesn't turn as I approach. She just sits there, a small, defiant figure against the vastness of the Pacific.
"Della," I say, my voice raw.
She turns. Her eyes are red-rimmed, but her gaze is steady. The ghost is gone. This is someone new.
"You wanted to talk, Dorian," she says, the words a challenge. "Let’s talk."
It's the only opening I need. The words I've been holding back, the confession, the self-loathing, it all spills out of me.
"The deal with Leah... I wanted to tell you at the lake house… it’s true," I start, the words tasting like poison.
"I was a coward. I was so terrified of losing everything I'd built, of being that powerless boy again, that I let her.
.. I let her leverage me. I was so arrogant, so blind, I never saw her obsession. "
I look at her, desperate for her to see the truth in my eyes.
"I promised you a life together, Della. I wanted to make your dreams come true but when you left, I was struggling financially and I was afraid you… wouldn’t want to be with me anymore if you knew I lost everything.”
“I only ever wanted to be with you,” she counters, her voice a sharp accusation. “I wanted to touch my dreams by your side, to make them true together. When did I ever let you believe, I was interested in your money?”
“Never,” I confess, dropping my gaze in shame.
“But I was a mess back then. You were the most amazing thing that happened to me and I expected for something bad to happen every minute. After you left, I went spiraling. So, when Leah showed me the pictures, it was just a confirmation of my worse thoughts. It was easier to admit I wasn’t good enough for you than to believe you really loved me.
So, I accepted the deal. If I wasn’t worthy to be loved, then I would excel in business, build an empire.
Maybe, then you will come back to me. Leah knew my weakness, the hole she burned in my trust and she played that card.
And you... you paid the price for my weakness. "
My voice breaks. The alpha, the powerful man... it's all ash. It's just me. The man who failed her.
"Please," I beg, my hands clenching at my sides, fighting the urge to grab her. "Forgive me. Come back to Chicago with me. I can't... I can't let you out of my sight. I need you where I can protect you. Please, Della. Let me fix this."
* * *
Della
I listen. I let every word, every ounce of his pain and his guilt, wash over me. This is it. The confession I needed to hear for so long. And my heart aches for him, for us, for what it could have been.
Tears stream down my face, but my voice, when I speak, is steady.
"I love you, Dorian," I say, and I see the relief flood his eyes.
"I loved you from that first night we met. I loved every day since, and I will love you till the end of time. I know now I can’t fight it anymore.
You are part of my soul, my body, my thoughts.
I do not want to live a life without you. "
He moves to step toward me, his eyes glowing, a hopeful smile blooming on his face but I hold up a hand.
"But I can't live with you, now."
His face freezes, the hope draining away.
"Della... don't. Don't do this," he pleads.
"I have to," I say, my voice stronger now. “What would have happened to us if I wouldn’t have come to the conference? Would you have ever looked for me?"
He falters, no answer ready.
"Della, I..."