Chapter 11
Declan’s tone, tinged with disgust, made Vivienne lose it in an instant.
“Why would you say that?” she cried out suddenly, tears welling up. “Declan, you know I love you.”
“Your name is still tattooed over my heart. I’ve confessed to you more times than I can count. I tried
to jump off a building for you. I was ready to die in that car crash if it meant saving you! That steel
rod pierced my heart, remember? This scar, it’s ugly, I know. But I’ve never regretted it.”
She climbed off the bed and wrapped her arms around his waist from behind. “Last night… was my
first time. I gave it to you. Please don’t treat me like this. I can’t take it. I’d rather have died that
night in the accident than feel this way now.”
Her tears soaked the back of his shirt.
And once again, that storm of guilt crashed through him, dragging him down with it. His Adam’s
apple bobbed, and for a moment, he couldn’t bring himself to move. “…There better not be a next
time. That’s my final line.”
“Get some more sleep. I’ll stay a few more days.” He turned, lifted her up, and gently laid her back
in bed.
Once she’d fallen asleep, Declan stepped onto the balcony and lit a cigarette.
The rising smoke blurred the horizon, but it couldn’t block out the image haunting his mind-
Sloane’s tear–filled eyes.
He tried calling again, but it was same as before. The guilt he’d bottled up over the past few days surged forward, crashing through his chest.
Finally, he gave in. His thumbs moved fast as he typed: [Sloane, I’m sorry. When you see this, please call me back. I know I’ve done terrible things lately–but I’ve only ever loved you. From the
beginning, it’s always been you.]
[Three days from now, let’s go to Finland. You’ve always wanted to see the northern lights, remember? I’ll take care of everything by then. No more chaos–just us, like before.]
Once the message sent, he contacted his assistant and booked the flights to Finland.
“Oh, and there’s a jewelry auction in Bayport in two days. Get that ruby necklace for me–whatever
it takes.”
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He was meticulous in his instructions. Sloane adored rubies. No matter what happened, he would make it up to her with time and everything she loved.
But three days passed. Not a single call from her.
The anxiety in his chest kept building. He spent the next few days with Vivienne, but his heart
wasn’t in it. He took her shopping, swiped his card without hesitation, even booked out an entire
amusement park for her to shoot her birthday photobook.
On the third night, after dinner at a revolving rooftop restaurant, Declan pulled out a folder and
placed it on the table.
“Vivienne, three days ago, I had the doctor run a full evaluation of your condition. The results are
back. You’ve fully recovered.”
He paused to find the right words. “I have a marriage, a wife, a family. I can’t keep doing this. I can’t
be the one who stays by your side forever. One day, you’ll meet someone who truly loves you–for
real.”
His tone was gentle, but the meaning behind it couldn’t be clearer.
Vivienne froze. Before she could say a word, Declan had already gotten up and walked away in haste.
He raced through the city, driving at the edge of the speed limit the whole way.
On the passenger seat sat a small velvet box containing a ruby necklace- and two tickets to Finland.
His hands clenched the steering wheel tightly as he drove. The moment had come. He’d ended things with Vivienne. Now all that was left was to go home, apologize to Sloane–no matter what it
took. Even if he had to get on his knees.
As soon as he reached the gates of the villa, he leapt out of the car, gift in hand.
The downstairs lights were still on, but Sloane was nowhere in sight. Two maids were cleaning up
in the kitchen.
“Where’s Sloane?” he asked urgently.
But he didn’t wait for an answer. His footsteps thundered up the stairs, completely missing the maid’s quiet reply.
“Mrs. Hawthorne went out that day… but she never came back…”
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The second floor was dark. He checked the guest room–but it was empty. Then he turned and strode toward the master bedroom.
“Sloane, I-” He flung the door open, but it was exactly how he’d left it days ago.
But the air was thick with a cloying floral fragrance–Vivienne’s favorite essential oil. The crisp lime scent Sloane loved was completely gone.
He froze for a moment. Then–click–the lights came on. Just as he turned to search the next room, something on the nightstand caught his eye.
Something tightened painfully in his chest.
He rushed forward, the gift box slipping from his hands and hitting the floor with a dull thud.
There it was, a divorce decree.
His and Sloane’s.
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