Chapter 182: I already know who did it.

Chapter 182: I already know who did it.
Aurora

I traced the edge of the napkin on my lap, pretending not to notice the way she was doing the exact same thing with her water glass. My mind wandered—because it always did when there was too much stillness.

I started thinking about what I was even doing here.

About how strange it was, sitting across from her like this. Civil. Polite. Calm. It wasn’t what I expected. It wasn’t what anyone would’ve expected. Just a few months ago, the idea of us even breathing the same air had felt impossible.

And now we were ordering truffle pasta and grilled chicken like we were just two women catching up.

I was about to ask her something—how life had been for her lately, maybe just something normal, soft enough to break the quiet—when she spoke at the exact same time.

“So…”

“Have you…”

We both stopped.

Blinking.

Staring.

And then we laughed.

Not loud. Not long.

But real.

It snuck out before I could stop it, and I caught the way her shoulders relaxed just slightly.

“You go first,” I said, trying to hide my smile.

She raised an eyebrow. “No, you.”

I shook my head. “I insist.”

A pause. Then another little laugh, this one more breath than sound. Our eyes met across the table, and for the first time since I arrived, the tension melted just a little.

Just enough.

Eleanora was still chuckling lightly, her fingers tapping softly against the edge of her glass. “No, for real,” she said, the laugh lingering in her voice. “You go first. I just… I just want to know how you and Leonardo were doing anyway.”

Her voice then went quiet for a split second before she continued, “Just said that because of the awkward silence and stuff.”

I blinked, a little caught off guard by how unguarded she sounded. “Oh…” I tucked a loose piece of hair behind my ear, then gave her a small, honest smile. “We’re good. We’re doing just fine.”

She tilted her head. “His birthday just passed, didn’t it? What did you get him?”

I bit my lip and looked down at my napkin, feeling that warm flutter in my chest. “I took him to Miami.”

Her eyes widened immediately. “Shut. Up.”

She leaned forward slightly, incredulous. “Are you for real?”

Her reaction caught me off guard—in the best way.

I laughed, nodding slowly. “Yeah. We spent about three days there. I tried to cover most of the expenses, but he didn’t let me.”

She raised both brows, clearly impressed. “Well that’s cute,” she murmured.

I smiled again, heart tugging a little at the memory. “I also gave him a sketchbook as a gift and he…”

I trailed off, unsure if I should even be saying the next part.

Just then, the waiter reappeared, balancing two plates expertly on his arms along with two glasses of what looked like orange juice. He set the food down with a polite smile, refilled our water, and disappeared just as quickly.

Eleanora didn’t waste a second. Fork halfway to her plate, she glanced up at me. “He what?”

I looked down at my plate, nudging the chicken slightly with my fork. “He… sketched me.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then—

“He… drew you?”

I looked up and saw her mouth slightly parted, frozen mid-bite. She looked… stunned.

“Yeah… you didn’t know he sketches?” I asked slowly, genuinely surprised.

She shook her head faintly, still dazed. “No.”

The way she said it—it wasn’t bitter. Just soft. Like someone discovering a part of a person they thought they knew.

Something shifted in me then. I couldn’t quite name it. I wasn’t trying to compare or weigh anything—but it was obvious that, in all the time she’d spent with Leonardo, he’d never once told her about his hobbies.

And maybe he hadn’t meant that as a statement.

But it felt like one.

I took a small bite, trying to push the thoughts away before they swallowed the moment whole. The chicken was tender, tangy with lemon and thyme—comforting, somehow.

I cleared my throat gently, setting my fork down for a moment. “So, how’s your modelling going?”

That seemed to bring her back to herself. She dabbed at the corner of her mouth, her lashes lowering slightly. “My mum wants us to go to New York,” she said, carefully slicing into her pasta. “She just released a new collection. Said a couple of brands want me to model for them.”

“Wow,” I breathed. “That’s… that’s great.”

Eleanora winced—barely—but I caught it. She let her knife rest on the plate and shrugged one shoulder. “Not really.”

I frowned slightly, puzzled. “Why? You don’t like modelling?”

She gave a quiet huff, swirling her fork in the pasta before lifting her eyes to meet mine again. “No, no—I do. I mean… modelling is chill. Don’t get me wrong, I love my job. It’s just…”

She hesitated, eyes flitting toward the window like the rest of the sentence might be hiding in the sky.

Then finally, she added, voice lower now, “Sometimes it feels like I’m always being seen, but never really…known, you know.”

That line landed heavy. And true.

I didn’t know what to say at first. I just nodded slowly and picked up my fork again, suddenly aware of the way quiet truth had begun threading its way into our conversation.

Not rivalry. Not bitterness.

Just honesty.

Two girls—half sisters, picking at expensive meals and trying to make sense of their lives.

“Well, that’s enough about boring me,” Eleanora said, lifting her glass and twirling the straw with a small, easy smile. “Your life is far more interesting to listen to, anyway.”

The comment caught me off guard in the best way, and I let out a small laugh, looking down at my plate.

She tilted her head, watching me. “How’s work going?”

I let out a soft breath and leaned back in my chair a little. “It’s been good. Busy, but good. Lucia caught me up on everything I missed while I was gone. Apparently, some guy bought up a chunk of our high-value pieces and requested the proceeds go to charity. She’s still trying to figure out who it was.”

I raised my brows slightly, stabbing a piece of roasted zucchini with my fork. “Not that I’m calling names, but… I already know who did it.”