Chapter 23
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The photos were everywhere by morning.
My phone buzzed non–stop, but I didn’t bother checking most of the notifications. Headlines flashed across every screen.
“Therese Calderon Moves On, With a Kiss Seen Round the Room”
“Heiress of Steel, Heart of Velvet”
“Massaro Who?”
Ephraim was already reading the news when I walked into the breakfast lounge. The scent of fresh coffee, eggs, and buttered sourdough lingered in the air. He looked up from the tablet with that slow, wolfish grin that made my stomach flip even after all this time.
He stood and pulled my chair out. “Good morning, scandal queen.”
I sat with a smirk and let him pour my coffee. “You started reading the gossip before I even opened my eyes, huh?”
He lifted my hand and kissed my knuckles gently. “You’re fire in their cold little world,” he said. “And they all just got burned.”
I took a sip of the coffee, still warm, still perfect, and leaned back in my chair. “Let them talk. I didn’t kiss you for the headlines.”
“I know,” he said, watching me. “But I like that they saw it. Especially him.”
I didn’t say Torren’s name. I didn’t have to. He was probably seething in silence somewhere, watching the kiss over and over like a madman.
I found out how right I was when a white rose arrived around mid–morning, delivered by a trembling assistant who refused to meet my eyes. I took the note attached to it and didn’t even open the whole thing.
The first line was enough.
Please. Just talk to me. Five minutes.
I burned the rest over a lavender candle in my bathroom. I didn’t even blink.
By noon, I had a meeting with the charity board. All of them showed up tense, waiting to see if I would address the obvious drama. I did, just not how they expected.
“I’m removing Ruby That Mistress as brand ambassador,” I said, calm and poised as I clicked through the deck. “Personal ties to opposing parties and recent PR conflicts. I suggest we move forward with someone who has no scandal clinging to her dress.”
There was silence, followed by nods.
“No objections,” the chairman said. “We’ll have PR draft the replacement announcement tonight.”
When I got home, Ephraim was on the phone with someone from one of the development
He Left Me for Dead Now Ho Bens Me for Mercy
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groups. He hung up the moment I stepped into the room.
He looked relaxed, but I knew him better than that.
“What did you do?” I asked.
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He raised an eyebrow and shrugged. “Any company still tied to the Massaros has officially been blacklisted from Lambert–linked projects.”
“All of them?”
“65%,” he said. “You don’t touch my wife and walk away clean.”
I smiled, not because I needed revenge, but because I liked knowing I wasn’t standing
alone this time.
**
Around four in the afternoon, my phone rang again. Fleur. I hesitated before answering. We hadn’t spoken properly since I left Torren. Her last words to me were brutal.
But I answered anyway. “Hello?”
“Hey,” she said softly. “I… saw the photos. You looked powerful. And happy.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m sorry, Therese. For what I said before. I was angry at your life at that time… You didn’t deserve that.”
I closed my eyes for a second. “It’s okay, Fleur. I understood even back then.”
She sniffed a little, like she might cry, then laughed lightly. “You always were kinder than
me.”
“That’s not true.”
“It is,” she said. “And… look, I know Ephraim doesn’t see me that way. He never did. You know why?”
I leaned forward. “Why?”
“Because he’s had a massive crush on you since high school.”
My heart jumped. “What?”
“It’s true,” she said, laughing. “He used to stare at you during assemblies. Once told me your voice made him want to write poetry.”
I blinked, stunned. “You’re messing with me.”
“I’m really not. Anyway, my classes are starting. Gotta run. Just wanted to say that. I’m happy for you.”
Then she hung up, just like that, leaving me with a heart pounding like I’d run a marathon.
I looked toward the window where Ephraim was standing now, phone in hand, barking orders to someone in finance. The afternoon sun caught the sharp line of his jaw and the gentleness in his eves when he caught me starina. Chapter 23
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If I had known back then what I know now, I would’ve never chosen Torren.
Not even for a second.
**
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Later that night, we went to the private fitting room on the top floor of Maison Auriél, that quiet little boutique in Mayfair that never allowed walk–ins and cost more per hour than some people’s monthly rent.
I was standing in front of three full–length mirrors, draped in white satin and pearls. The gown clung to me like it had been waiting its whole life for my skin. My assistant, Joy, was fussing over the veil while two French stylists argued softly over whether we should add one more strand of diamonds at the waist.
Ephraim sat in a velvet chair behind me, legs crossed, hand resting against his jaw, watching like he couldn’t look away.
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“You know,” he murmured, “if I didn’t already ask you to marry me, I’d drop to my knees right now.”
I turned to face him, holding the hem of the gown in my hands. “You’d wrinkle the pants you just had tailored in Paris.”
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He stood and walked over to me, wrapping his arms around my waist. “You look like vengeance wrapped in grace.”
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“And you,” I said, touching the edge of his lapel, “look like a man who plans to burn the whole world for me.”
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“I would,” he said simply. “And I’ll enjoy every second of it.”
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We left the boutique an hour later, Joy walking ahead with the dress carefully packed, and Ephraim’s hand resting protectively on my back as we stepped into the soft golden glow of the waiting car.
That’s when he appeared.
Torren. Standing by the curb like some ghost that hadn’t accepted it was already dead. No security. No Ruby. Just him in a dark coat, with tired eyes and a desperation that didn’t suit him at all.
“Therese,” he said, stepping forward. “Just five minutes. Please. I’m not here to fight.”
I didn’t stop walking. “Neither am I,” I said calmly. “I’m here to live.”
He blocked my path and reached for my hand. Just listen to me-
Before he could even graze my skin, Ephraim stepped between us. “Touch her again,” Ephraim said, voice low and brutal, “and I’ll break your hand in front of every photographer on this block.”
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