Chapter Forty-Four

Chapter Forty-Four
Aurora’s POV

I sat stiffly in the back of Caesar’s car, my arms wrapped around myself while I stared out of the window. 

My phone felt heavy in my hand because I had just called him even though I barely knew him, but I didn’t know anyone else in Miami and I couldn’t bring myself to call Jennifer or anyone from home, so Caesar was the only option that came to my mind.

He glanced at me from the driver’s seat, his tone surprisingly gentle. “Where to?”

I swallowed hard. “Anywhere. I don’t care, just… anywhere that’s not here.”

He nodded without pushing for more. We drove in silence for a while, the air-conditioning humming softly and my mind spinning in circles. The image of Conan in that office with Vanessa sitting on his lap replayed again and again like some cruel loop I couldn’t shut off.

Finally, Caesar parked on the rooftop of a tall building downtown. The lights of Miami stretched out below us, bright and distracting, and he leaned back against the car while motioning for me to step out.

“Come on,” he said. “Fresh air might help.”

I followed him hesitantly. The rooftop was quiet except for the hum of the city below. He handed me a bottle of water he had in the car, and I took it even though I wasn’t thirsty.

“You look like you’ve been through hell,” he said plainly.

I gave a weak laugh. “Something like that.”

He studied me for a moment, his hands slipping into his pockets. “You don’t have to tell me anything, but I’ve been where you are. Someone I trusted chose someone else over me.”

My head turned toward him. “Really?”

He nodded. “My fiancée. She left me for someone who wanted to cut me down in every way possible. He was my rival in business and in life, and I thought she loved me, but she went to him instead.”

I frowned. “Is this the same rival that stole your pitch?”

“Yes,” he said simply, and there was no bitterness in his voice, just a flat kind of acceptance. “Same man. My company has been cleaning up the messes ever since, but sometimes it still stings.”

For the first time since the office, I felt like someone understood me. “So you know what it feels like,” I said softly.

“I do,” he answered, “and I know it makes you doubt everything you thought you knew. But it doesn’t mean you’re the problem.”

I blinked back the burn in my eyes. “It feels like I am.”

“Of course it does,” he said calmly, “because that’s how betrayal works. It makes you think you weren’t enough, but the truth is, you were too much for someone too small.”

We stood there for a while, letting the words hang between us. It was strange, how easy it was to talk to him, maybe because he wasn’t part of my life before today, and maybe because he didn’t owe me anything, so I didn’t feel judged.

He leaned closer slightly, lowering his voice. “You don’t have to go back there tonight. You could stay here, I’ll make sure you’re comfortable, no one will bother you.”

I shook my head quickly. “No, I can’t. He’s still my husband.”

His brow furrowed. “Even after what you saw?”

“Yes,” I said firmly, though my voice wavered, “because I don’t want to make decisions when I’m angry. I need to think, but I need to do it at the villa, not here.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, but then he sighed. “Alright. If that’s what you want.”

“It is,” I said quietly. “Please just take me back.”

The drive back was quiet again, but this time it didn’t feel awkward. When we reached the villa, he parked outside and looked at me one more time.

“You're stronger than you think, Aurora,” he said so softly that I almost believed him.

I gave a small smile, though it didn’t reach my eyes. “Thanks for being here.”

“Anytime,” he replied, and then I got out of the car.

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

Inside the villa, the first thing I saw was Conan pacing in the living room. His hair was messy, his tie undone, and he looked like he’d been tearing himself apart.

As soon as he spotted me, he rushed over. “Aurora—”

I didn’t let him finish. I walked straight past him, ignoring the way his voice cracked when he called my name again. My feet carried me upstairs, and I locked myself in the bathroom before he could follow.

He knocked once, hard. “Please open the door, Aurora. Just talk to me.”

“No,” I said, pressing my forehead against the cool wood. “Not right now. I can’t.”

He sighed, his voice muffled through the door. “Then let me explain while you’re in there. At least let me—”

“Conan,” I interrupted, my voice sharper than I intended, “I need space.”

Silence followed, then I heard his footsteps retreat down the hallway. 

I slid to the floor, hugging my knees to my chest, and that’s when the tears finally came. They poured out fast and heavy, and I didn’t try to stop them.

I stayed there until my body felt weak from crying, and eventually I got up and splashed water on my face. When I stepped back into the bedroom, the room was quiet and empty.

He wasn’t there.

A small part of me felt relieved because I didn’t have the energy to argue, but another part of me sank with disappointment. I told him to give me space, yet I didn’t expect him to actually leave me completely alone.

I curled up on the bed, pulling the blanket around myself, and stared at the door for a long time. Every creak made me think he was coming back, but the hours dragged on and he didn’t.

By the middle of the night, I realized how attached I had become to him in just these few days. I hated admitting it, but I missed him already, even while I was angry, even while I was hurt.

And that hurt more than anything else.