Chapter 28 - The Price of Blood

The studio went unnaturally still. The rain hammering against the glass seemed to amplify the sudden spike of adrenaline in my veins.

"Julian is on bail?" I asked, my voice deadly level. "His assets are frozen. His passport is revoked. Who paid fifteen million euros for a disgraced fraudster?"

"That binder," Chloe choked out, wrapping her arms around herself as if freezing. "Julian kept a black ledger. Not on his computers—on paper. He made me keep it in my safety deposit box because he said no one would ever suspect a dumb blonde." She let out a hysterical, self-deprecating laugh. "He was right, wasn't he? To him, I was just a walking closet with pretty legs."

I reached out and pulled the leather binder across the desk. I flipped open the first page.

Rows of dates, international wire transfers, and handwritten initials filled the pages. But it wasn't Hector Vance's name that dominated the ledger.

It was *V.D.*—Valmont-Dubois.

The Valmont-Dubois dynasty. The owners of the Grand Palais exhibition grounds, the largest textile mills in Lyon, and the primary sponsors of Paris Haute Couture Week.

"Julian wasn't just working for Hector," I muttered, realization clicking into place like the tumbler of a safe. "Julian was the front man for Xavier Valmont. Xavier wanted to crush my mother’s fashion house thirty years ago, and when he failed, he groomed Julian to marry me and gut it from the inside."

"Xavier is the one who bailed Julian out," Chloe whispered, her eyes wide with terror. "Julian called me from a burner phone two hours ago. He said... he said he was coming for you first. And that he’s going to take back the Firebird sketches before the opening gala."

I slowly closed the binder, the leather snapping shut with finality.

"Marc," I called out.

Marc stepped into the room instantly. "Yes, Madame?"

"Book Chloe a one-way ticket to Vancouver under a false name. Give her five thousand euros in cash and put her on the midnight flight."

Chloe blinked, tears spilling down her mascara-streaked cheeks. "You're... you're letting me go? After everything I did to you?"

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My fiancé let his friend chop off my mother’s waist-length

My husband spent the night with another woman

My husband brought his mistress to our nine-year-old daughter’s dance

I looked at the girl who had once stolen my seat, my husband, and my dignity. In the end, she had only been Julian's disposable pawn.

"You didn't break me, Chloe," I said softly. "You set me free. Now run before Julian remembers you exist."