Chapter 15: The Sacrifice
1302words
"And you discovered these records when, Miss Whitestone?" asked the lead investigator, a stern woman named Moretti.
"In my mother's jewelry box, as I've explained." I kept my voice steady despite my exhaustion. "The recordings and documents were hidden in a secret compartment."
"Convenient timing," she remarked, not looking up from her notes. "Just as your career launches and your relationship with Cassian Vexley becomes public."
The implication stung. "My mother died fifteen years ago. There was nothing 'convenient' about it."
Moretti finally met my gaze. "You understand that these accusations against your father and stepmother are extremely serious. Murder, financial fraud, blackmail—"
"I understand perfectly." I squared my shoulders. "As does Mr. Vexley."
At Cassian's name, her expression shifted subtly. "Yes, Mr. Vexley. His involvement in these matters remains... unclear."
A chill ran through me. "Cassian has cooperated fully with your investigation."
"Indeed." She gathered her papers. "We'll be in touch, Miss Whitestone. Please don't leave Milan without informing us."
After they departed, I collapsed onto my sofa, the weight of the past days crushing down on me. My phone buzzed with a text from Cassian: *Need to see you. Important. Coming over.*
Thirty minutes later, his knock came—three quick raps, our private signal. When I opened the door, the strain on his face sent fear coursing through me.
"What's happened?" I asked as he entered.
Instead of answering, he pulled me into his arms, holding me as if I might disappear. I felt his heart racing against mine, his breath uneven against my hair.
"Cassian, you're scaring me."
He released me reluctantly, moving to the window to stare out at the Milan skyline. "Victoria came to my office today."
My stomach dropped. "What did she want?"
"To deliver an ultimatum." He turned, his expression grim. "She has documents—board meeting minutes, transfer authorizations—that appear to show my direct involvement in the pension fund scandal."
"Appear to?"
"They're forgeries, but convincing ones. My signature, my company letterhead." His jaw tightened. "She's threatening to release them to the investigators unless you publicly end our engagement and distance yourself from the investigation."
"That's blackmail!"
"That's Victoria." He ran a hand through his hair. "The documents wouldn't stand up to forensic examination, but by then, the damage would be done. Vexley Enterprises stock would plummet. Thousands of employees would suffer. Government contracts would be canceled."
I moved to him, taking his hands in mine. "We'll fight this. Together, remember?"
The conflict in his eyes broke my heart. "Seraphina, if those documents become public, everything I've built—everything my grandfather and father built before me—could collapse."
"And if I back down, my mother never gets justice." My voice cracked. "Victoria and my father get away with everything."
"I know." He cupped my face gently. "That's why I can't ask you to make that choice."
Understanding dawned, cold and terrible. "You're not asking me to choose. You've already decided."
"I've decided that I won't let Victoria destroy you or your career." His thumbs brushed my cheekbones. "The investigators are focusing on your father and Victoria. They believe your mother was silenced because of what she knew. That investigation can continue without implicating Vexley Enterprises."
"If I publicly end our engagement," I finished, the words bitter on my tongue.
"A temporary separation," he corrected. "Until this is resolved."
"And if it's never resolved? If Victoria and my father escape justice again?"
Pain flashed across his face. "Then we find another way back to each other."
I pulled away, anger and hurt warring within me. "So we let them win. Again."
"This isn't about winning or losing." He followed me, his voice urgent. "This is about protecting what matters most."
"And what matters most to you, Cassian? Your company or us?"
The moment the words left my mouth, I regretted them. He flinched as if I'd struck him.
"That's not fair," he said quietly.
"None of this is fair!" I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly cold. "They killed my mother. They've controlled and manipulated us both for years. And now they're going to separate us too."
"Not separate," he insisted, closing the distance between us. "Never that. A public charade only."
"And in private? Secret meetings, hidden moments? Back to shadows and whispers?" Tears threatened, but I refused to let them fall. "I've spent my life hiding, Cassian. I can't go back to that."
"It won't be forever." His hands found my shoulders, warm and steady. "Just until we find a way to neutralize Victoria's threat."
I looked up at him—this man who had seen me at my worst and loved me anyway, who had given me wings when others had only offered chains. The thought of losing him, even temporarily, was like contemplating the loss of oxygen.
"There has to be another way," I whispered.
"If there is, we'll find it." His forehead touched mine. "But for now, we protect each other the only way we can."
That night, our lovemaking held a desperate edge—hands memorizing contours, lips whispering promises against skin. Each touch felt like both a beginning and an ending, joy and grief intertwined.
Afterward, as moonlight painted silver stripes across the bed, Cassian traced the fading scars on my cheek.
"I fell in love with you in that library," he confessed. "When you refused my pity. When you looked at me with such defiance despite your pain."
I turned to face him fully. "I fell in love with you at Lake Como. When you bandaged my cut finger with such tenderness."
"We'll find our way back," he promised, his voice rough with emotion. "Whatever it takes."
"Whatever it takes," I echoed, sealing the vow with a kiss that tasted of salt and sorrow.
The press conference was arranged for the following afternoon—a statement about my future plans following Milan Fashion Week. Journalists packed the hotel conference room, hungry for details about my collection's success and, undoubtedly, my relationship with Cassian.
I wore one of my own designs—a structured suit in deep burgundy that made me feel armored for battle. My engagement ring was conspicuously absent, though I could still feel its phantom weight on my finger.
"Thank you all for coming," I began, my voice steadier than I felt. "Following the success of my debut collection, I'm announcing today that I'll be establishing my own design house here in Milan."
Approving murmurs rippled through the crowd.
"I'll also be continuing to cooperate with financial investigators regarding certain historical matters involving Whitestone Holdings." I paused, bracing myself for the next part. "On a personal note, while I deeply respect and admire Cassian Vexley, we have mutually decided to end our engagement."
The room erupted with questions. I raised a hand for silence.
"My focus moving forward must be on my career and these legal matters. Mr. Vexley and I remain on good terms, but we both recognize that timing and circumstances are not in our favor."
From the back of the room, I caught sight of Victoria, her smile triumphant. Beside her stood my father, his expression unreadable. They thought they'd won.
They were wrong.
As cameras flashed and questions continued, I added one final statement—one Cassian and I hadn't discussed.
"I believe in truth and justice above all else. My mother taught me that. And I will not rest until the full truth about her death is known—no matter who it implicates or how long it takes."
I met Victoria's eyes directly, watching her smile falter.
This wasn't surrender. It was strategic retreat.
And the war was far from over.
