The director’s face darkened. “Mr. Blackthorne, I work for your corporation, but some things neec to be said. That night–if you hadn’t blocked the main for Miss Sable’s birthday convoy, the ambulance might have made it in time.”
“What are you talking about?”
The director took a breath and explained the whole situation.
As he listened, a cold sweat broke across his back.
No. No, that couldn’t be true. I was just upset that he was celebrating Sable’s birthday. I hired a few actors to stage that little drama to get his attention. That ambulance? That wasn’t real. There’s no way my brother was actually inside.
He refused to believe it.
He frantically called a friend, demanding to pull up hospital records. He needed proof. Proof that my brother was still alive.
Minutes later, his friend sent him a photo – a death certificate.
He added, “Andrea personally signed off on it. I tried calling you that night when she came to file it. But you didn’t pick it up.”
He struggled to remember.
That night… he had been with Sable, celebrating her birthday, laughing and kissing under fireworks while his wife handled her brother’s death alone.
He swallowed hard. “Where’s he buried?”
“He wasn’t. She cremated him. She said she was taking him to see the world.”
Then it hit him. The urn. That ceramic urn I carried back to the house – it really did hold the ashes of the person I loved most.
Everything I said had been true.
And he hadn’t believed me.
He’d let Sable smash that urn… while I watched me destroy what little I had left.
He closed his eyes, his chest heaving.
He left the nursing home with heavy steps.
In the car, he called his assistant. “Find her. Find out where she went.”
Twenty minutes later, he called back.
“Sir, the Madam has erased her identity. We can’t trace her location.”
Vincent froze.
Everything he thought he could handle… all the pain he believed he could bear–crumbled.
Erasing my identity meant I’d given up everything.
Including him.
No. No!
I was his wife. I had no right to disappear without his permission! I barged into his world. I insisted on staying by his side. I had no right to just… leave!
Chapter 11
3/3
13.3%
5:38 pm D DDX.
Honestly, it was even nicer than the master bedroom I’d once had back at Vincent’s.
My throat tightened and tears welled up in my eyes.
Apparently, Damian noticed it, because a second later he said, panicking, “Is it that bad? Shit, I should’ve known.”
“Just tell me what you don’t like and I’ll fix it, okay? Don’t cry.”
That’s just how Damian is. He totally freaks out whenever I cry. No matter how nasty our fights got, the second I even started tearing up, he’d fold like a cheap lawn chair.
Seeing him standing there looking like he was about to get ambushed by an army, I let out a soft chuckle.
“I’m not gonna cry, Damian.” I added, “Thank you.”
He exhaled in relief, then scowled. “Don’t thank me. I hate when you thank me.”
Of course, I thanked him again knowing full–weel it’d irritate him.
He clenched his jaw, grinding his molars. If this were years ago, he’d have barked back with some snarky retort. But now, he just let out a long, dramatic sigh.
“You’re unbelievable.”
The warmth in his voice caught me off guard. That familiar teasing affection–it felt strange after so long.
Desperate to change the subject before I got emotional, I cleared my throat. “So… about that job you promised me. You haven’t changed your mind, have you?”
Damian looked me up and down, giving me that once–over only he could pull off without saying a
word.
“You? Like this? I’d probably lose my entire fortune in a week if I let you handle business right
now.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but he didn’t even let me.
“Sit,” he ordered, gently pushing me down onto the bed. “Work can wait. I’m holding the position for you. Right now, your job is to get better.”
I tried to protest, insisting I was perfectly fine to start working, but he cut me off again. “I already hired a nutritionist and a private chef for you. Don’t make me waste my money.” Then he added, “But I’m not letting you laze around completely. While you’re recovering, I’ll start briefing you on the company. We’re not in the States, Andrea. The culture here’s different. You need to learn how things work. Once you’re ready, you’ll take your role properly. Got it?”
I couldn’t argue. Damian had already thought of everything.
2/2 14.5
