"She thought the danger was over—until she saw those initials."
The chaos at the table still buzzed in my ears—whispers, gasps, the clinking of glasses—but I barely noticed. I was sitting there, trying not to drown in embarrassment, the whiskey warming my veins, making the edges of the room waver and spin.
And then Kieran's hand was on mine.
"Get up," he said, voice low but impossible to ignore.
Before I could react, he yanked me out of the seat. My legs wobbled violently. My head spun. I stumbled, the world tilting like a carnival ride gone rogue.
"Easy," he muttered, keeping a firm hold on me. His grip was iron, grounding me as I fought the sudden dizziness.
That's when it happened—my bracelet slipped from my wrist. A tiny silver thing, clinking softly against the polished marble.
No one noticed… except a woman who had just entered, late to the gala. Her eyes caught it immediately. Kneeling gracefully, she picked it up, freezing as she read the initials engraved on it: D. Delacroix? Or rather D'Angelo.
Her hand shook as she clutched it to her chest. Memories, years of longing, and a sudden, impossible hope flooded her. Aurielle… my lost daughter…
...….
The SUV felt like it was floating—no, spinning—no, tilting, like someone had picked it up and was shaking it just to mess with me.
"Sterliiiing," I yelled at the back seat, leaning forward even though my seatbelt tried to choke me. "Play music. Real music. Not— not this silent funeral."
Sterling, Kieran's right hand man glanced at Kieran through the rear-view mirror. Bad choice. Kieran's glare sliced through him.
I pouted dramatically, slapping my palm against the window. "Play me something! Something good. Something— something nasty."
Kieran pinched the bridge of his nose. "Aurielle."
"WAP!" I announced proudly. "Play WAP by Cardi B. Right now. I wanna sing."
I threw my hands up. "Certified freak— seven days a week—"
Kieran grabbed my wrist mid-flail before I smacked him in the face. "Sit still."
I twisted around to look at him, squinting because his face kept… multiplying. "You're so bossy. Meanie. Big, tall… tall meanie."
Sterling choked on a laugh.
Kieran's head snapped up. "Sterling."
Sterling shut up instantly.
I giggled again—loud, shrill, impossible to contain. "Why'd you marry me anyway?" I asked, leaning way too close to Kieran's face. "You married a sex— sex— sex work–worker— person."
Kieran's jaw flexed. "Aurielle. Enough."
"No!" I jabbed a finger into his shoulder. "Your family knows. Everyone knows. Everyone thinks I'm dirty. Dirty single mom."
My voice cracked into something wet and ugly. "Even your maid called me a whore."
Everything stopped.
Sterling's hands froze on the wheel.
Even the engine seemed to hum lower.
Kieran turned to me slowly—so slowly it made my stomach drop. His eyes weren't cold; they were dead quiet, which was worse.
"What did you say?"
Not loud. Not sharp. Just lethal.
I blinked. The tears made him blur. "Your maid."
My throat bobbed. "She called me a… whore. Today. Before the gala. The tall one. Or short one. I don't—I don't remember, Kieran, I just— I know she said it."
Kieran's hand caught my chin—firm, precise, commanding my attention.
But not hurting.
"Who?"
His voice was a controlled promise of hell.
For someone.
I sobbed once—small, hiccuppy. "I don't know! I just remember hearing it. I'm not lying. I swear I'm not—"
"You're not."
He said it without hesitation. Without doubt.
He released my chin only to pull me closer, steadying me as the car turned. His eyes were still burning, but now the fire wasn't at me—it was at someone waiting back at his house.
Someone who was about to regret breathing.
"When you're sober," he murmured, "you'll tell me everything you remember. I'm done tolerating ignorance. And she"—his voice dropped further—"will understand her place."
I blinked up at him, dizzy, heart pounding.
"Don't do anything bad. Please?"
He didn't answer, just leaned closer, a shadow of that cold, calculating smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. "Tomorrow, everything changes. They'll learn exactly why you belong to me… and why nobody ever dares to touch what's mine."
Warmth slid through my drunken haze.
I grinned, sloppy and unhinged. "You're scary. So, so scary. I kinda like it."
Kieran sighed through his nose, the smallest smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.
"Aurelle, if you keep talking, you're going to like it too much."
I gasped dramatically. "PLAY THE SONG!"
Sterling fumbled with the phone.
"Not that one—WAP! I SAID WAP!"
The song blasted through the speakers.
I threw my head back and belted out, horribly off-key:
"THERE'S SOME WHORES IN THIS HOUSE—"
Kieran pressed his forehead to his palm like he was questioning every life choice that led him to this moment.
But he didn't let go of me.
Not even once.
—————————-
Marlies Delacroix sat at her vanity like someone had unplugged her from reality.
The gala noise was gone—no music, no laughter, no clinking glasses—just the soft, trembling sound of her own breath.
The silver bracelet lay in her palm.
Aurielle's bracelet.
The one she had picked up at the gala.
The one identical to her own—same engraving style, same shape, same origin.
Her hand shook violently.
She'd known.
Somewhere deep, deep inside, she'd always known.
The bedroom door creaked open.
Marlies didn't turn. She lifted her eyes just enough to see the reflection in the mirror—an elderly woman standing at the doorway, arms crossed, her face carved with judgment.
Delphine.
Delphine didn't blink.
Didn't smile.
Didn't soften.
"When," Delphine said, voice crisp as breaking glass,
"are you going to tell everyone the truth?"
Marlies' head snapped up, panic slicing through her chest.
"What are you talking about?"
Delphine stepped further into the room.
Her reflection glared straight into Marlies' shaking soul.
"When," she repeated, "are you going to tell everyone that Aurielle is your daughter?"
The bracelet slipped from Marlies' fingers and hit the marble floor with a sharp, traitorous clang.
Marlies shot to her feet.
"What—Delphine, stop. Stop saying nonsense—"
"I KNOW," Delphine said, louder now. "I found out everything."
Marlies staggered back, breathing fast, choking on her own heartbeat.
"No. No. You don't understand—"
"When," Delphine cut her off, walking closer, "are you going to tell everyone that you are a terrible mother?"
Marlies froze.
"When," Delphine continued, voice shaking with disgust,
"are you going to admit that you abandoned your daughter as a child?
That because of you, she grew up with nothing?
That because of you, she became a sex worker just to survive?"
Marlies clasped her hands over her ears.
"Stop—please—Delphine, stop—"
"You left her," Delphine said. "You didn't give her a home. You didn't give her safety. Not even a proper orphanage. Nothing."
Marlies shook her head violently.
Tears spilled.
"You don't understand anything—ANYTHING, Delphine. I had no choice! He would've killed us. He would've killed her. I did it to save her—"
Delphine scoffed.
"You abandoned her to SAVE her? That's your story?"
"He threatened me," Marlies cried. "He said if I didn't get rid of her, he'd kill her. Kill me. Kill us both."
"And who," Delphine asked with a cold smile, "is he?"
Marlies froze.
Her lips trembled.
Her eyes overflowed.
Delphine shook her head, disgusted.
"You brought this on yourself, Marlies. You had a husband. And you still slept with his friend."
Marlies choked on a sob.
"You're no different from Aurielle," Delphine added. "But at least Aurielle had shame. You were a married woman. And now that recklessness has ruined three lives."
Marlies fell to her knees, palms slapping the marble hard enough to sting. Mascara streaked down her cheeks in black rivers.
"No—no—please—you can't say that—"
Delphine's voice sharpened.
"You let the entire D'Angelo family mock your daughter tonight. They called her names that weren't hers to carry. They humiliated her while you watched."
Marlies grabbed at Delphine's skirt, desperate, broken.
"Please—please don't tell anyone. Please, Delphine—I'm begging you—"
"Why?" Delphine demanded. "Why should I keep your secret?"
"Because—"
Marlies sobbed so hard she could barely breathe.
"Because if they find out… they'll kill her. They'll kill Aurielle. She was never supposed to live. They think she died."
Delphine blinked, for the first time shaken.
Marlies clung tighter.
"She cannot find out. No one can. She is my past. A mistake. A moment I regret every single day. She ruined my life—don't you see? She was never supposed to exist!"
Her voice cracked like something inside her finally snapped.
"I can't let anyone know I'm her mother. Please. Delphine, please. I have a life now. A husband. A daughter. A position. If this gets out—everything I've built will collapse. I will lose EVERYTHING."
She bowed so low her forehead touched Delphine's shoes.
"Promise me," she whispered, broken and trembling.
"Promise me you won't tell her. No one should find out. No one."
Delphine stared down at her.
"But who's gonna kill Aurielle?"