Chapter 27 #27
Chapter 27
~ Shailyn ~
The drive back to the manor was quiet at first. I stared out the window, my mind full of my mother's still face, wondering what she was thinking, if she could hear us when we talked to her, if she knew I was there.
"I want to start working again," I said suddenly, breaking the silence.
Dante's hands tightened on the steering wheel. "What?"
"Working," I repeated, turning to look at him. "I want to go back to my job. At SentientIQ."
"Shailyn, you just got out of the hospital yourself. You need to rest, to recover…"
"I've been resting," I interrupted. "I feel fine. And honestly, I feel suffocated in that house."
"Suffocated?" Dante's voice had an edge to it now. "In the manor?"
"Yes," I said firmly. "Everyone is walking on eggshells around me. Monica glaring at me whenever she sees me. Cynthia's cold politeness. Tyler's concerned looks. I need to do something normal. Something that makes me feel like myself again."
"You don't even remember what 'yourself' is," Dante pointed out. "How do you know working will help?"
"I just do," I said. "Please, Dante. I need this."
"No," he said flatly. "It's too soon. The doctors said you need to avoid stress…"
"The doctors said I need to ease back into my normal routine," I corrected. "And my normal routine includes work, doesn't it?"
"Not yet."
"Dante…"
"I said no, Shailyn." His voice was sharp now, final. "End of discussion."
But I wasn't backing down this time.
"It's not your decision to make," I said quietly but firmly. "I'm going back to work. If you don't support that, fine. But you can't stop me."
Dante's jaw clenched. "The hell I can't. I'm your husband. I have a say in…"
"You have a say," I interrupted. "But you don't have the final say. Not about my career. Not about my life."
For a moment, I thought he was going to pull the car over, was going to really lose his temper. But instead, he just exhaled sharply through his nose.
"Fine," he bit out. "Fine. Go back to work if you're so determined to exhaust yourself. But when you collapse again, don't say I didn't warn you."
"I'll be fine," I said.
"Sure you will."
We drove the rest of the way in tense silence. But as angry as Dante seemed, as much as he'd tried to forbid it, I'd won. I was going back to work.
And maybe, being back at SentientIQ would trigger some memories. Would help me remember who I really was.
…
The next morning, I was still in bed when my phone rang. I fumbled for it on the nightstand, squinting at the screen.
Hannah.
I smiled and answered. "Hello?"
"Shailyn! Oh my God, finally! I've been trying to reach you for days!" Hannah's voice was frantic on the other end.
"Sorry, I've been... dealing with some family stuff. What's wrong?"
"Have you seen the news?" Hannah asked urgently.
I sat up in bed, suddenly more alert. Beside me, Dante stirred but didn't wake. "What news?"
“What news?” I asked again, my voice already tight with unease.
She didn’t answer quickly. She just took a sharp breath from her end, “Just… check your phone.”
“What do you mean, check my phone?” I frowned, pulling it from my ear.
“Please, just check it.” she insisted softly. And ended the call.
The moment my screen lit up, my heart sank.
“What is this?” I whispered.
Headlines. So many of them. Notifications stacked on top of each other like accusations.
“No,” I breathed, scrolling frantically. “No, no, no.”
I couldn't believe what I was seeing.
My chest tightened painfully.
“This isn’t real,” I said aloud, even as my fingers trembled. “This can’t be real.”
The images looked real. Too real. The lighting, the angles, the timestamps. Everything screamed authenticity. My vision blurred, and I swallowed hard, forcing the tears back.
“Shailyn?” a sleepy voice murmured beside me.
I hadn’t even realized Dante had stirred.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, turning toward me. “Why do you look like that?”
I didn’t trust my voice. I just handed him my phone.
“Tell me this isn’t what I think it is,” I whispered.
He sat up instantly, the sleep leaving his eyes as he scanned the screen. His jaw tightened. For a split second, panic flashed across his face.
“This is bullshit, baby.” he said quickly.
I collected the phone from him and read the headline out.
Belmar Heir Caught With Mystery Woman in Club.
Is the Belmar Heir Sleeping With His Secretary?
Scandal Rocks Belmar Empire.
Pictures filled my screen. Dante. Clear as day. His arm around a woman in a dimly lit club. Her head tilted toward his shoulder. Another photo of him leaning in close, lips near her ear. Another hand on his chest.
I searched his face. “Dante…”
“It’s not true,” he said firmly, handing the phone back. “Baby, look at me. This is fake.”
“Fake?” My voice cracked. “They’re everywhere. There are pictures.”
“AI,” he said without hesitation. “Deep fake. One of my enemies did this.”
“Your enemies?” I asked weakly.
“Yes.” He pulled me into his arms. “You know how many people want to bring me down? You know how many people hate the Belmar name?”
I hesitated. “But the woman”
“Is not real,” he cut in, cupping my face. “I would never cheat on you, Shailyn. Never. I love you too much.”
My heart pounded. “You swear?”
“I swear on everything,” he said. “On my life. On us.”
His eyes were steady now. Convincing. Familiar.
“Please don’t let them get into your head,” he continued softly. “That’s what they want. To ruin us.”
I nodded slowly, clinging to his words like a lifeline. “I know you love me.”
“I do,” he said, kissing my forehead. “More than anything.”
I chose to believe him. Because believing him hurt less than the alternative. Because Dante loving me made sense. Because Dante cheating on me again felt unbearable.