Chapter 69

Chapter 69
Violet's POV:

I sent a quick text to my parents as soon as we settled into the Walsh family living room. "Safe at Sienna's. Don't worry." My mother's reply came within seconds, three heart emojis that made my chest tighten.

Sienna had already turned on some reality cooking show, the hosts screaming at each other over a collapsed cake. I sank onto the couch beside her, propping my injured ankle on the coffee table. The throbbing had settled into a dull, persistent ache that matched the exhaustion pulling at my bones.

"So," Sienna said, muting the TV. "What's really going on? Because I know there's more than just the parking lot drama."

I kept my eyes on the screen, watching contestants scramble around a kitchen in silence. "Daemon transferred fifty thousand dollars to Celeste."

"What?" Sienna's voice shot up an octave.

"And today he personally helped her deal with her family situation."

Sienna's face went through several emotions before landing on fury. "He's openly playing both sides! Vi, you can't keep letting him treat you like this. Stop being soft on a man who doesn't even respect you!"

"I'm not being soft anymore." The words came out flat, certain. "I already told you. End of the month, I'm going to Silver Ridge. Three months after that, I'll file for forced dissolution again."

"Good." She grabbed my hand and squeezed hard. "Get out. Don't waste another second on someone who treats you like you're disposable."

I wanted to feel as confident as I sounded, but that damn bond was still there under my ribs, a persistent ache that flared whenever I thought about Daemon with Celeste. Five years of connection didn't dissolve just because I wanted it to.

Sienna seemed to sense I needed a subject change. She grabbed the remote and started flipping channels, keeping up a running commentary that required no response from me. We settled into an easy rhythm, and for maybe twenty minutes I actually felt some of the tension in my shoulders start to ease.

Around six thirty, I realized my ankle was throbbing worse than before. The swelling hadn't gone down at all. I picked up my phone and scrolled to Evan's number, hesitating only a moment before calling.

"Violet?" He sounded surprised when he answered. "Everything okay?"

"My ankle's pretty swollen. I know you said to give it a few days, but I was wondering if you could take a look at it tomorrow."

"How swollen are we talking?"

I glanced down at my propped-up foot. "Bad enough that I'm worried about it."

There was a pause, then his voice shifted into professional mode. "I have appointments starting at nine tomorrow, but I can fit you in at ten thirty. Can you make it to the clinic?"

"Yeah, I can get there."

"Good. Keep it elevated tonight, ice if you have any. I'll do a proper examination tomorrow." Another pause. "I saw Sienna's Instagram post. You're at the Walsh house?"

The question felt pointed somehow. "Yeah."

"Is Daemon not home?"

I kept my voice neutral even as something tightened in my chest. "He can't be in two places at once."

I heard Evan take a slow breath. "Just take care of yourself, Violet. I'll see you tomorrow."

After I hung up, Sienna glanced over at me. "All set?"

"Yeah. Tomorrow morning." I shifted my ankle on the cushion, wincing at the fresh spike of pain. "Hopefully it's nothing serious."

An hour later, Beck called us to dinner.

The dining room table was loaded with dishes. Steak, roasted vegetables, mushroom soup, fresh bread, and chocolate mousse for dessert. Beck had gone all out.

"This is too much," I said as he pulled out a chair for me.

"It's really not." He smiled warmly. "I wanted to make sure there were options."

Beck kept my water glass filled and made sure I had enough of everything without hovering. He asked about Silver Ridge, seemed genuinely interested in my plans. Sienna kept the conversation light with sibling banter that made me smile despite everything.

"This is amazing, Beck," I said after my first bite of steak. "Thank you."

His smile widened. "I'm glad you like it."

After we finished eating, Sienna dragged me back to the living room while Beck cleaned up. She pulled out her phone, scrolling through Instagram with a mischievous expression.

"Oh, look at this," she said, stopping on a photo.

I leaned over to look and felt my stomach drop. It was from earlier today, a candid shot of Beck and me. The angle made it look intimate, and the caption read: "Someone's giving off major crush vibes! 💕"

"Sienna!" I grabbed for the phone. "Take that down!"

She danced away, laughing. "Why? It's cute!"

I signed, then handed her phone back.

We settled in to watch more TV.

Beck brought out a fruit platter he'd prepared, cut into perfect pieces. We spent the rest of the evening watching an action movie, and for the first time in weeks I felt something close to relaxed.

Eventually Sienna yawned and declared she was going to bed. Beck showed me to the guest room, making sure I had everything I needed before saying goodnight. I changed into the pajamas Sienna had lent me and crawled under the covers.

---

The next day, Sienna drove me to Evan's clinic. I'd declined Beck's offer to come along, not wanting to give anyone more ammunition for speculation about my relationships.

Evan's examination was thorough and professional. He confirmed what I already suspected—bad sprain, needed to stay off it for at least another week, no permanent damage but I'd been stupid to walk on it as much as I had.

"You're lucky it's not worse," he said, wrapping a fresh bandage around my ankle. "Another fall like yesterday and you could have done real damage."

"I'll be careful," I promised.

He finished securing the bandage and started putting away his supplies. I watched him work, my mind churning with questions I'd been avoiding since Victoria's revelation. Finally, I couldn't hold it in anymore.

"Evan, can I ask you something?"

He glanced up. "Of course."

"Do you know someone named Aurora Winters?"

His hands stilled. The change in his expression was immediate and unmistakable—his eyes widened slightly, then his jaw tightened. He set down the medical tape slowly, like he was buying himself time to think.

"How do you know that name?" His voice was carefully neutral.

"Victoria told me." I held his gaze.

Evan was quiet for a long moment, his expression unreadable. "This isn't a conversation we should have here. Not in a clinic."

"Then where?" I met his eyes again.

He studied my face for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "I can come by your place tonight. If you want to talk about this, we should do it somewhere private. Somewhere you won't have to worry about who's listening."

"My apartment. South Shore." I pulled out my phone. "I'll text you the address."

"What time works for you?"

"Seven?" I suggested. "That gives me time to get back and settled."

"Seven it is." His expression was serious, almost sad.

After Evan finished with my ankle, Sienna drove me back to the Walsh house. But in the car, I made a decision.

"Actually, can you take me to my place instead? The South Shore apartment?"

Sienna glanced at me in surprise. "You sure? Your ankle's still messed up. You shouldn't be alone."

"I need to be alone for a bit." I looked out the window. "I need space to think without everyone watching me and worrying about me."

"Vi—"

"Please, Sienna. I appreciate everything you and Beck have done. But I need this."

She was quiet for a long moment before sighing. "Fine. But you better text me every few hours so I know you're okay. And if you need anything, anything at all, you call me immediately."

"I promise."

She drove me to my old apartment. Sienna helped me inside, made me promise three more times to stay in touch, then reluctantly left.

I collapsed onto the couch, not bothering to elevate my ankle the way Evan had instructed. Exhaustion crashed over me in waves, and before I knew it, I'd fallen asleep.

The dream came immediately, vivid and terrible. A girl with blonde hair and bright blue eyes stood by a river, her white dress soaked through. She turned to look at me, and her eyes had changed, gone milky white and dead. She lunged forward, hands reaching for my throat.

"You took him from me," she hissed, her voice like grinding gravel. "You killed me. You stole my life."

Her fingers closed around my neck, cold and impossibly strong. I couldn't breathe, couldn't scream, could only stare into those dead eyes as the life was squeezed out of me.

I woke up gasping, my heart hammering against my ribs. Cold sweat had soaked through my shirt. My hands were shaking so badly I could barely grip the couch cushions.

Aurora. The dream had been about Aurora.

I stumbled to my feet, ignoring the protest from my ankle, and turned on every light in the apartment. Then I switched on the TV, needing noise and distraction and anything to drive away the image of those dead eyes and grasping hands.

My phone showed it was only three in the afternoon. Hours until Evan would arrive. I couldn't stay still, couldn't stop my mind from spiraling back to that dream, to Victoria's story, to the knowledge that my entire marriage was built on someone else's death.

I forced myself to the kitchen and made tea with shaking hands. The routine helped, the familiar motions of filling the kettle and selecting a mug and waiting for the water to boil. By the time I was sitting at my small kitchen table with a steaming cup, some of the panic had subsided.

But I couldn't stop thinking about that wedding night five years ago. About how Daemon had said such cruel things to me, how he'd shared the bed but never touched me, how cold and distant he'd been. I'd thought he just didn't want me, didn't find me attractive, didn't care.

Now I knew better. Around one in the morning that night, Daemon had left. I'd heard his car start, had watched from the window as he drove away from the manor. At the time, I'd assumed he was going to see one of his friends or maybe to blow off steam after being forced into marriage.

But now I wondered. Had he gone to see Aurora one last time? Had he gone to the place where she'd drowned herself, to say goodbye to the woman he'd actually loved?

The thought made my stomach turn. My marriage had started with me alone in bed while my husband mourned his dead true mate.

I spent the rest of the afternoon trying to distract myself. I cleaned up the apartment, ordered takeout because I couldn't face cooking, and tried to watch TV. But my mind kept circling back to Aurora. To the photo Victoria had shown me of her and Daemon together, so clearly in love. To the image of her body pulled from the river. To the knowledge that she'd killed herself on the day Daemon and I were married, unable to live with losing him.

And I was the reason. Not directly, maybe. But my family's alliance with the Blackwoods, the political advantage of our union, the pressure from Daemon's grandfather—all of it had conspired to destroy Aurora's life and trap me in a marriage neither of us wanted.

Around five, I realized I should clean up before Evan arrived. I needed to shower, wash my hair, make myself presentable. I limped to the bathroom and started the water, adjusting it to the right temperature.

I was careful getting in, keeping my injured ankle propped on the edge of the tub while I washed my hair under the spray. The hot water felt good on my tense shoulders, and for a few minutes I let myself just exist in the steam and warmth without thinking.

When I finished, I turned off the water and carefully stepped out onto the bath mat. I'd gotten out of the shower and was trying to dry my hair, balancing awkwardly on my good foot. My injured ankle was still tender and swollen despite Evan's treatment.

That's when I stepped on a patch of water I'd missed wiping up. My foot slipped. I went down hard, my knee cracking against the tile, my hands barely catching me before my head hit.

Pain exploded through my knee and ankle simultaneously. I let out a scream I couldn't control, sharp and loud in the small bathroom.

For a moment I just lay there on the cold tile, breathing hard, waiting for the worst of the pain to subside. Slowly, carefully, I pushed myself up to sitting and examined the damage. My knee was already starting to bruise. My ankle was throbbing worse than before. But nothing felt broken.

I was trying to figure out how to stand up when my phone started ringing in the living room. I considered ignoring it, but the ringing was insistent, going on and on.

Finally I crawled out of the bathroom and grabbed it from the coffee table. Daemon's name flashed on the screen.

"What the hell was that screaming?" Daemon's voice was sharp with concern and anger. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine." I pulled myself up onto the couch, every movement sending fresh waves of pain through my ankle and knee.

"You don't sound fine."

I pressed my fingers against my throbbing knee. "I'm handling it. You can go back to whatever you were doing."

"I'm outside your apartment." His voice went flat.

My blood went cold. "What?"

"Open the door, Violet."

"No. Absolutely not. You need to leave."

"You don't open the door, I'll have the lock picked. Your choice."