Alex closed the guest room door with the care of someone afraid of waking a patient. The hallway returned his silence, and in the distance, the muffled echo of voices from the garden lingered.
He walked slowly, his hand running distractedly through his hair, his face marked by uncertainty and a pride scraped raw by failure. Sophie… why was Sophie backing out now? Had she realized too much? Had it been Daniel, that shadow from the past, that pushed her back to the edge of the truth?
At the foot of the stairs, standing motionless with the posture of a statue in the middle of the entrance hall, Veronica waited for him. Her pale blue silk dress highlighted her slender shoulders, her beauty almost blinding, like a living magazine cover. Her large, well-defined eyes burned with restrained indignation.
"Alex, can we talk?" The voice allowed no refusal. It was dry, perfectly modulated. Without waiting for a reply, she turned on her heel, striding toward the office. "After what just happened, I think you owe me some explanations... in private."
Alex followed her, still carrying on his skin the faint scent of Sophie's perfume. The ground-floor office was spacious, paneled in dark wood, books arranged with meticulous care, and a large window catching the last gold of the afternoon. Veronica shut the door behind her, the click louder than any word.
She crossed her arms, lingering in front of the desk. For a moment, Alex merely watched her: the line of her jaw, the cold glow of her skin, the polished gold of her hair — everything about her exuded control, but also a kind of exhaustion that few besides him could see. She was as beautiful as a wild beach: breathtaking but treacherous.
"What are you doing, Alex?" she asked at last. "What are you trying to achieve with this pitiful circus? Yacht parties without consulting me, that suicidal stunt — yes, I heard, the whole city is talking — and now, here, in front of the most important people to me, you present a daughter you dragged out of the gutter, a bastard, as if she were a trophy. You, who always prided yourself on being so discreet, so... so above this kind of millionaire eccentricity of those desperate for a spot in some tabloid. How dare you tell whoever will listen that you cheated on me and still parade the living proof of this betrayal in front of us?!"
Her words came in a single breath, but without losing elegance. Alex smirked, tilting his chin, admiring his wife's courage — and fury. For a moment, the desire to kiss her (something he hadn't done in so long) tangled with the hurt like ivy roots clinging to marble. But he didn't let it cross his feelings or make him lose focus.
"You know, Veronica, I asked myself that too. Why now? Why this way?" he said, sitting on the edge of the desk, his body curved as if offering himself to a clinical examination. "The truth is, I only found out about Flora a few days ago, imagine that. She's the daughter of an affair I had shortly after marrying you…" He paused, watching her face for the impact of his words. "Raised far from our world, on the fringes of high society, almost invisible to people like us."
"So you really did cheat on me, and you admit it so calmly?" Veronica's tone was nearly a whisper, but there was a sharp edge to it, a silent plea for logic, for meaning.
With serenity and a touch of accusation, Alex asked,
"And you? Have you never betrayed me?"
Indignant and surprised by the question, Veronica let out a dry laugh.
"Of course I never betrayed you! Are you insane? I can't imagine what you plan to do after what happened out there!"
"I plan to act according to what the moment demands," Alex replied, with a smile that wasn't cruel only because it was still beautiful.
"Flora grew up in very limited conditions, not by my choice, obviously, but because I was kept in complete ignorance of my responsibilities as a father. When I found out, I wanted to make up for at least part of what I lost. I thought a charity event, with so many sensitive hearts and generous wallets, would be the perfect setting to introduce my daughter to the world. Isn't that what we do at these parties, my dear? We showcase charity, promote justice, applaud our own gestures of redemption?"
Veronica stared at him, stunned. Cynicism dripped from every word, and she realized Alex was no longer in the safe territory of half-truths. It was as if something had shattered inside him, and what remained was this cold, almost sarcastic man she barely recognized.
"I don't understand what's gotten into you, Alex. This isn't you," she murmured, and fear crept into her voice.
"And who am I?"
"You're the CEO of Grant Yachts, a man who always honored his family's legacy, who until a few days ago had never exposed himself to ridicule like this!"
Alex stood, his eyes as clear and hard as a diamond.
"Vero, sweetie, maybe you've read me wrong all these 20 years we've been together. In any case, I've decided to acknowledge Flora Sanders as my daughter. More than that, I'm bringing her to live here with us."
Veronica stepped closer, her face so near his that Alex could smell the intense, sweet perfume on her neck; the scent of danger.
"I will not accept this humiliation in silence."
"I've already decided, baby. Flora is here to stay. If you want to fight about it, take it up with my lawyers. But let me tell you now, I won't turn my back on my daughter… As much as this hurts you, I can't abandon her."
"If you think you're going to turn my home into a stage for your bored millionaire's freak show, you're mistaken. I will fight for this family, for the good name of the Grants that your parents left in your hands, until you come to your senses and tire of playing the fool for the Hamptons and the world."
Veronica turned sharply and left the office, slamming the door behind her as a warning. Alex remained alone, feeling his pulse race, his breath still filled with the expensive perfume of his wife and the battle that was only beginning.
In the hallway, Veronica didn't look back. Her silence was its own kind of threat, and for a moment, Alex didn't know if he had won or simply lost the last piece of himself that was worth anything.