Chapter 71 The whisper between them
The villa had never been this quiet. Even the sea outside seemed to hold its breath.
Sienna stood at the kitchen counter, a half-empty mug of tea cooling beside her. She listened to the faint hum of the refrigerator, waiting for footsteps, for his voice, for anything. But nothing came.
Dante had barely spoken to her all week.
When she passed him in the hallway, he looked through her like she was made of glass. When she set a tray by his door, it stayed untouched. And when she asked if he was feeling better, his answer was always the same. “I’m fine.”
But fine didn’t look like this. Fine didn’t mean skipping meals, or sitting in the study till dawn with the door locked.
She rubbed her temples, trying to fight the ache in her chest. He’s hurt. That’s all this is, she told herself. He’s processing. But deep down, a colder voice whispered, “No. He’s pulling away.”
That evening, she decided to try again.
She carried a plate of pasta to his study, her hands trembling slightly. The door was half-closed, light spilling from the crack.
“Dante?” she said softly.
No answer.
She nudged the door open and froze.
He was sitting at his desk, the glow of the laptop reflected in his eyes. He looked exhausted with dark circles under his lashes, jaw tight. The screen changed too quickly for her to read, but she caught a glimpse of frozen video frames of her face, the car, and a file.
Before she could speak, he slammed the laptop shut. The sound cut through the room like a slap.
Sienna blinked. “What…what was that?”
“Work,” he said quickly.
She hesitated. “You’re lying.”
He didn’t meet her eyes. “Maybe.”
The silence that followed was heavy enough to drown in.
She placed the plate on the edge of the desk. “You haven’t eaten since yesterday. Please.”
“I’m not hungry.”
The same words and tone again. Flat, cold, and distant.
She wanted to scream, Then tell me what’s wrong!, but the words caught in her throat. His expression was cold, tired, and wounded and it made her shrink instead.
So she whispered, “Okay,” and walked out.
The sound of her footsteps faded, but he didn’t move for a long time. He just sat there, staring at the blank screen.
In her room, Sienna curled up on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his face with that mix of anger and confusion, the wall he kept rebuilding.
She thought of how gentle he’d been before, the way he held her hand, the way he would be in the kitchen with her while she prepared their meals, how he’d look at her like she was the only calm thing in his world. Now, that calm had turned into distance.
What's wrong? she thought. Did something happen after the press conference? What's that video he's always watching? Why did he close the laptop when she walked in? Why's he hiding the content of the video?
The next morning, she heard voices from the living room. Dante was on a call. His voice was low, curt, and sharp. She paused near the corner, unseen.
“Yes, I saw it,” he said. His tone was clipped, careful. “I don’t know who filmed it. Or why?”
Her stomach twisted. Filmed what?
There was silence. Then she heard him sigh, a sigh that showed he was tired and frustrated. “No, don’t cancel anything yet. I’ll handle it.”
When he hung up, she stepped out, pretending she hadn’t heard. “Do you want coffee?”
He turned, surprised. His eyes softened for half a second, then hardened again. “No.”
Sienna bit her lip. “Okay.”
And just like that, he walked past her leaving her standing in the middle of the room, feeling like a stranger in the house she once called home.
That afternoon, she checked the kitchen.
The counters were lined with new paper bags from a delivery service and an expensive restaurant in Monte Carlo.
She frowned. “He ordered again?” she asked the chef.
The woman nodded, lowering her gaze. “Yes, Miss. Every day, the same order. But he barely eats it.”
Sienna pressed a hand to her chest. The ache there was constant now. “Thank you.”
She sat alone in the corner of the kitchen, eating the cold soup she’d made for him. Each bite felt heavier than the last.
She wasn’t angry, she was just tired. So tired of trying to reach him through walls he wouldn’t explain.
In the study, Dante couldn’t focus on anything else. The image kept replaying in his mind, Sienna in the car, the man beside her, the file with his name.
Why didn’t she tell me? Why meet someone in secret?
He tried to tell himself it was harmless, maybe business, maybe nothing. But then Isabelle’s voice came back, the way she’d once said her last statement. “Naïve women can be dangerous, Dante. They mistake ambition for love.”
He shook his head hard, pushing the memory away. No, Sienna’s not like that.
But the doubt didn’t leave. It sat there, quiet and corrosive.
Later that night, he heard her outside his door.
“Dante?” Her voice was soft, uncertain. “Can we talk?”
He wanted to say yes. He wanted to open the door, to pull her close, and tell her how much this silence was killing him too.
But he couldn’t. The words stuck in his throat.
“Not tonight,” he said instead.
She lingered for a second. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
They both knew it was a lie.
Her footsteps faded again, slowly.
When he was sure she was gone, he reopened the laptop. He watched the video again just once, then again.
Her smile in the footage felt wrong now and secretive. The man beside her shook her hand in a firm, familiar way. Dante paused, rewound the video. The man’s face seemed almost familiar, though he couldn’t place it.
He clenched his jaw and closed the laptop again.
He didn’t notice the message blinking in the corner of the screen. “New upload detected.”
The next morning, the villa woke up to the sound of phones buzzing.
Sienna was in the kitchen when her screen lit up with dozens of notifications, messages, and headlines. Her hand trembled as she opened one.
VARON HYPNOTIZED: INSIDE DANTE’S MIND AND SECRETS.
PRIVATE SESSION LEAKED: DOES HE EVEN REMEMBER HER?
Her chest went cold.
She scrolled faster. There were screenshots and parts of it were an email Clara had sent her confirming the hypnosis session. Someone had leaked it. Someone who knew everything.
“No,” she whispered, her breath catching. “No, no, no.”
Her mind raced. Who could’ve done this? Isabelle? No, she wasn't aware of the hypnosis
Could it be Clara? Why should she do something like that?
Her phone buzzed again, it was another message and another link.
“The therapist's lover hypnotizes her patient: what else is she hiding?”
Then she noticed another link, “New report about Varon's accident: He lost his memory.”
The words blurred. Her heart pounded.
She heard footsteps behind her. She didn't have to turn to know who it was.
Dante.
He stopped at the doorway. His face was unreadable. His eyes, though, were storm-dark.
“You knew,” he said quietly.
“What?”
“You knew this would come out. You had to.”
“Dante. No, I didn’t”
He held up a hand. “Don’t play dumb. That's why you suggested I do it, right? So you'd have an article to send out about me
”
“Dante!”. Sienna called as she rushed to meet him.
He waved his hand. “Don't even dare it.”
The silence between them was unbearable.
Sienna’s vision blurred with tears she refused to let fall. “You think I’d do this? After everything?”
He didn’t answer. He just turned and walked away slowly, his steps echoing down the hall.
Sienna sank to the floor, clutching her phone, the headlines flashing back at her.
Somewhere far above, the sound of a door slamming shook the quiet house.
That night, Dante sat alone in his study, the glow from the monitor painting his face pale. The internet was a battlefield with her name tied to his, twisted into every ugly headline imaginable.
He scrolled through the comments until his stomach turned. Words like gold digger, unprofessional, and disgraceful.
He shut the laptop hard and leaned back, staring at the ceiling.
He didn’t know what to believe anymore.
Did she tell someone about the hypnosis? Did Clara leak it? Or was this some cruel coincidence?
He wanted to protect her, to reach out and stop the bleeding before it destroyed them both. But part of him whispered, what if she caused it? What if she knew about it? What if she wants to destroy you?
And that whisper was louder than anything else.
Meanwhile, Sienna sat by the bedroom window, watching the sea crash against the rocks below. The phone lay on her lap, screen dark now with unanswered messages.
Her chest hurt not from anger, but from heartbreak.
She’d never felt more helpless. Everything she’d built with him, trust, patience, love was unraveling because of lies she didn’t even understand.
She closed her eyes, whispering into the dark, “Please, Dante. Believe me.”
But he was already gone not from the house, but from her.
At dawn, Dante’s phone buzzed again.
A message. Another unknown number.
“You wanted the truth. Meet me at the marina. Come alone.”
He stared at it for a long time, jaw tightening, then grabbed his keys.
Outside, the villa stood silent, and inside, Sienna woke up to an empty villa.
\-