Chapter 112 The Value of Friends
The words hung in the air, heavy and irrevocable. Chloe’s mouth fell open, her breath catching at the abrupt shift from celebration to sorrow. Her eyes widened in shock as the words hung like an impossible challenge. "He's...?" she asked, not finishing the sentence, her voice trembling as she struggled to comprehend the idea. People like Julian Rossi simply didn't wind up dead. Billionaires always seemed immortal. Very old ones might die, but young ones, like Julian, didn't die. The thought sent a shiver down her spine as she gazed at Sierra, her eyes searching for answers.
"Tell me what happened," Chloe said, her voice barely above a whisper. She moved next to Sierra on the sofa, taking her hands in a gesture of comfort.
Sierra took a deep breath, the memories flooding back like a tidal wave. She began to recount the details of the crash, her voice steady at first, but gradually cracking as the emotions resurfaced. "The jet suddenly pitched wildly. We tightened our seatbelts, but we were still being slung all over the place. Then it plunged from the sky. I hit my head on something when the jet hit the ground, and everything went black. When I came to, there were flames, and Julian was there. The pilots were dead. Julian was hurt." She paused, collecting her thoughts as the images replayed in her mind.
"I stopped the bleeding as best I could and got him away from the plane and the flames. I found a sheltered place against a granite cliff and then went back to search for the plane’s emergency kit. I was half melted, but I was able to salvage a few items. I built a fire using the flare from the emergency kit. I had to gather dry branches from the trees around to keep the fire going through the night. Early the next morning, yesterday morning, the fire was dying, and there was no more wood nearby. I had to go farther away to get more wood.”
She paused, remembering the desperation in Julian’s voice. “He begged me not to leave him." Sierra's voice faltered, and she swallowed hard, trying to push back the tears. "When I came back with the firewood, he was gone. I wrapped him in the Mylar blanket and left him there."
Chloe's face was a mask of horror, her eyes wide with shock and sympathy. "Oh my god, Sierra," she responded, her voice laced with emotion.
Sierra, not wanting to dwell any longer on Julian, rushed forward with her story. “I worked my way down the slope in the deep snow. About mid-morning, a rescue plane flew over. The first time, they didn’t see me, but the second time, they saw me. They came back with a helicopter and took me to Buena Vista. I stayed overnight for concussion protocol. I called William. Evidently, he called you right after that.”
“But he didn’t say anything about the jet crash or you being in the hospital,” Chloe mused. “He told me to come help you celebrate your promotion.”
“I guess he wanted you in a more upbeat state of mind,” Sierra ventured.
“Did he know about Julian?”
“I’m not sure,” Sierra responded, not remembering exactly when she told him about Julian’s death.
Chloe was silent for a moment, running through the events in her own mind. Then she spoke. "I know you and Julian were struggling, but still..." She trailed off, unsure of how to continue.
Sierra's gaze dropped, her voice barely above a whisper. "Chloe, we weren't just struggling... He raped me." The words hung in the air in dark contrast to the comfortable, upscale atmosphere of the Manhattan apartment.
Chloe's eyes snapped back to Sierra's face, her expression a mixture of shock and outrage. "He what?" she blurted out, her voice rising in indignation. "When? Where?" She wrapped her arms around Sierra as she spoke.
Sierra's voice cracked as she recounted the painful memories. "In Flagstaff, at a hotel. He forced me over the arm of the sofa and...and entered me forcefully in the anus. He started slapping me and telling me that he was teaching me about control; his control and my obedience." The words spilled out, a torrent of emotion as she relived the traumatic experience.
Chloe's face was a picture of horror, her eyes welling up with tears as she listened to Sierra's account. She felt a surge of anger and protectiveness towards her friend, her mind racing with thoughts of revenge and justice.
Sierra's voice trailed off, her eyes fixed on some point in the distance. "He was becoming more and more possessive when I went to the London office. I told William about it and that’s why he sent me to Arizona. I think that angered him. He wanted to make me his captive, his slave," she whispered, the words barely audible. "When he was injured from the crash, for a moment, I had considered walking away, but I stayed, tried to help him." The emotions swirled inside her, a toxic mix of guilt, shame, and relief.
The room fell silent, the only sound the soft hum of the traffic below outside. Chloe sat back and studied Sierra's face, her expression a mask of empathy and understanding.
Sierra's voice dropped to a whisper, the words spilling out like a confession. "I'm glad he's dead," she whispered, the sound barely audible.
The room seemed to hold its breath, the air thick with tension as the weight of Sierra's words hung in the balance. A silent understanding passed between them. The darkness that had haunted Sierra for so long was no longer holding her captive, and with it came a deep sense of liberation and freedom.
As the silence lingered, a sense of unease crept in, a feeling that this was far from over. The consequences of Julian's actions, the secrets he had kept, and the mysteries he had left behind would soon come to light, threatening to upend Sierra's life once more. When that reality closed in again, Sierra couldn't shake off the feeling that she was far from safe, that the shadows of her past would continue to haunt her, waiting to strike when she least expected it.
“You want me to stay with you?” Chloe asked, searching her expression.
“No,” Sierra said. “I’m sure you’re exhausted from your trip. Go home, get some rest. I’ll see you in the office in the morning.”
“You’re going to work tomorrow?”
“What else am I going to do?” Sierra asked. She didn’t want to go to work, but she also didn’t want to be left alone in her apartment all day entertaining ghosts. “You know me. Stay busy when things are tough.” A tiny smile came to her lips. “I think I got that from Daddy.”
“Okay,” Chloe said, rising from the sofa. “If you’re sure you don’t want me to stay.”
“I’m sure,” Sierra replied, ushering her to the door. It was a lie, but she was not selfish enough to ask Chloe to share her burden when she was exhausted.
After she left, Sierra stared down the hallway, the faint echo of the city’s bustle beyond. She took a deep breath, then turned back into her apartment, closing the door behind her.
The unwritten story William had spoken of, the path forward would be a jagged line, a promotion, followed by wins and losses, interspersed with the jagged remnants of love lost, the ache of betrayal, and the steady, unswerving presence of those who chose to stand by her.
She let the tears fall, a single drop sliding down her cheek, catching the light. “Julian is dead,” she repeated, her voice steadier than before, the finality of the words settling like a stone in her chest, ready to be carried across whatever storm lay ahead.