Chapter 197
Elara
Dead silence.
Kelly's hand shook as she reached for her teacup. Robert's face went from flushed to ashen.
"You can't be serious."
"Entirely serious," Julian said. "The evidence of plagiarism is overwhelming and public. Her reputation is destroyed. Every piece she produces will be questioned. She'll never exhibit without protests. Never sell without buyers wondering if they're purchasing stolen work."
He paused. I watched each sentence land on Sloane's face like a physical blow.
"Continuing to pursue art will only prolong her suffering," Julian continued, his tone almost gentle now. "Every exhibition will remind people of her disgrace. Every review will reference the scandal. She'll spend the rest of her life defending herself against accusations she can't win."
Kelly found her voice. "Mr. Vane, you're talking about destroying my daughter's life. Art is everything to her. It's her passion, her identity—"
"Her weapon."
The words came out of my mouth before I could stop them. Everyone looked at me. My face flushed but I forced myself to continue.
"Art was the tool she used to steal from Elena Castellano. To build a false reputation. To hurt people."
Kelly's gaze turned icy. "And who are you to make such judgments, Miss Vance? You, who've benefited so clearly from your association with Mr. Vane, who've used your relationship to advance your own career?"
The accusation stung because it touched on my deepest fears. But Julian's voice cut through before I could respond.
"Careful, Mrs. Kennedy." Real warning in his tone. "You're speaking about the woman I intend to marry. And unlike the engagement to your daughter, that commitment will be permanent, legal, and unbreakable. Choose your next words carefully."
The declaration hung in the air. I felt something in my chest expand and contract at once. He intended to marry me. Not might. Not eventually. Intended to.
Robert's expression shifted to calculating. "I see. So this isn't about Sloane's future at all. This is about clearing the way for your new relationship."
"This is about consequences," Julian corrected. "About ensuring Sloane faces appropriate accountability. Your daughter systematically plagiarized a dead woman's work, profited from it, and used her family's influence to suppress anyone who questioned her. That shouldn't be quietly swept away with a press release about health challenges."
He leaned forward again. Robert actually leaned back.
"Here are my terms. Sloane issues a public statement acknowledging the plagiarism and apologizing to Elena's family. She permanently withdraws from the art world—no exhibiting, no selling, no commercial profit from artistic work. In return, I ensure no criminal charges are filed, that Kennedy family business interests remain unaffected, and that Sloane and the child are financially secure."
"And if we refuse?" Kelly's voice had lost its confidence.
Julian's smile was thin. "Then I dedicate the full resources of Vane Industries to exposing every instance of fraud in Sloane's career. I'll make the story dominate every publication. I'll make the Kennedy name synonymous with artistic fraud for a generation. And I'll do it while protecting Elara's reputation with the same dedication I'm offering to destroy your daughter's."
Robert's face had gone gray. Kelly looked sick.
And Sloane—Sloane had been silent this whole time, listening to her future being negotiated without saying a word. But now she stood up suddenly, violently enough to make everyone startle.
"How dare you." Her voice shook but it was loud. "How dare you sit there and talk about destroying my life like it's nothing, like I'm nothing, like everything I've worked for is just collateral damage in your pathetic love story!"
She took a step forward, hands clenched into fists. Julian tensed beside me. But Sloane's attention was fixed on me.
"This is all because of you," she hissed. "You and your pathetic obsession with him. You're nothing, Elara. Nobody. A charity case he'll get bored with. And you think he's going to choose you over me? That he's going to throw away everything we had for someone like you?"
"Sloane." Julian's voice cut through her tirade but she ignored him.
"You don't deserve him. You don't deserve any of this. You're just a placeholder. A distraction. But I'm carrying his child. I'm the one who knows him. And you think you can just take that away from me? Take everything?"
She was crying openly now, her whole body shaking. I felt something twist in my chest because I understood exactly what she was feeling. That desperate need to believe someone loved you. I'd felt that same desperation with Julian.
"Julian," Sloane said, turning to him. "Please. We can fix this. We can make this work. I'll do better. I'll—" Her breath came in gasps. "You loved me once. I know you did. And I love you. Doesn't that mean anything?"
The room went silent. Julian stood slowly. His hand released mine and he took a step toward Sloane.
"Sloane," he said, and his voice was gentler than I'd heard it all afternoon. "What we had was real. I'm not going to pretend it wasn't. But it was based on lies—yours and mine. You pretended to be someone you weren't, and I pretended not to see it."
He stopped a few feet from her. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I enabled your deceptions, that I didn't ask harder questions. But I can't marry you. Not now. Not ever."
"Because of her," Sloane said. Her gaze flickered to me, filled with pure hatred. "Because you'd rather have her. Someone who's going to drag you down, who doesn't understand your world—"
"It's all because of you!"
Sloane lunged at me, her face twisted with rage. "If it wasn't for you, Julian would never—you stole him! You destroyed everything!"
Julian was on his feet before I could blink, his body blocking her path. Two staff members in Kennedy livery appeared and caught Sloane by the arms.
"Let me go!" She thrashed against their grip, her heels scraping the Persian rug. "I won't retire! Art is everything to me! You can't take it away!"
She twisted toward her parents, still seated calmly on the sofa. "Dad! Mom! Please!"
But Robert and Kelly Kennedy just watched. Their faces were blank, almost bored. I'd seen that look before—on Mr. Vane Senior when he'd told me to leave Blackwood, on Victoria when she'd watched me kneel for one night, on Tristan when he'd held me down and forced pills into my mouth.
This was what happened when you stopped being useful.
Julian's hand found mine behind his back and squeezed. I could feel the tension in his body, coiled and ready, but that small gesture made something warm bloom in my chest.
He turned to the Kennedys. "Please consider my proposal. This is the best resolution for everyone." He pulled me toward the door. "We're leaving."
Atlas was waiting by the Maserati. He opened the back door without a word, and Julian helped me inside before sliding in beside me. The engine started with a low purr.
The sun was setting as we pulled away from the estate, painting the sky blood orange. Julian sat close enough that our shoulders touched, but he was staring out the window, his jaw tight.
The silence stretched. I watched the manicured lawns blur past, feeling the weight of what had just happened settle over us.
Finally, Julian spoke. "Elara." His voice was quiet. "Do you think I was too cruel?"