Chapter 43: The Offer Abroad

Five days.

That was all we had before the court hearing.

Five days to prove Verline's innocence.

Five days to expose Raven Capital.

Five days to discover who had murdered Nathaniel.

The media refused to leave.

Every entrance to Verline remained surrounded by cameras.

Victor insisted everyone use the underground garage.

"Nobody moves alone anymore," he ordered.

"Until this is over, assume every conversation is being watched."

No one argued.

By late afternoon the conference room had finally emptied.

Rose escorted the legal team downstairs.

Damien disappeared into his office to review internal company records.

Victor left for the prosecutor's office.

For the first time all day, I was alone.

I stood inside my restored studio.

Sunlight streamed across the drafting table.

The unfinished cradle pendant still rested beneath the magnifying lamp.

I picked up my pencil.

The familiar weight settled naturally between my fingers.

For several peaceful minutes, the world outside disappeared.

Then my phone vibrated.

Unknown Number.

I considered ignoring it.

Instead, I answered.

"Mrs. Vivian Ashford?"

"Speaking."

"My name is Isabelle Laurent."

"I'm calling from Maison Étoile in Paris."

The name caught me completely off guard.

Maison Étoile.

One of Europe's most respected jewellery houses.

"How can I help you?"

"Actually," Isabelle replied politely, "we're hoping to help you."

I remained silent.

"We've followed Verline's work for several years."

"Your bridal collection received international attention before the current allegations."

"Our board has reviewed your portfolio."

"We'd like to offer you a position."

My fingers tightened around the pencil.

"A position?"

"Creative Director."

"Based in Paris."

"Full artistic control."

"Complete ownership of every design you create."

I closed my eyes.

Everything Damien had taken from me...

A stranger was now offering back.

"Why now?" I asked quietly.

"Because we believe you're being targeted."

"We've reviewed the available evidence."

"Your work deserves protection."

"Not destruction."

"How long would I have to decide?"

"One week."

"After that we'll approach another candidate."

"I understand."

"We'll email the formal contract within the hour."

"Thank you for your time, Mrs. Ashford."

The call ended.

I stared at the blank drafting paper.

Paris.

A different country.

A different life.

No Ashford estate.

No Eleanor.

No Damien.

Only my work.

A soft knock interrupted my thoughts.

"Come in."

Rose stepped inside carrying several envelopes.

"These arrived by courier."

She paused after noticing my expression.

"Is everything alright?"

"I'm not sure."

I handed her the business card Isabelle had texted after the call.

Rose's eyes widened.

"Paris?"

"They offered you a job?"

"Creative Director."

"Vivian... that's incredible."

"It is."

"But?"

"If I leave now... Nathaniel never gets justice."

Rose nodded slowly.

"And if you stay?"

"I might lose everything before I can rebuild it."

"Sometimes," Rose said gently, "the hardest opportunities arrive at the worst possible time."

Before I could answer, Damien appeared at the open doorway.

Neither of us had heard him approach.

"Paris?" he asked quietly.

Rose glanced between us before excusing herself.

The room became silent.

"You heard?"

"Enough."

"Are you going?"

I didn't answer immediately.

"I haven't decided."

"Don't refuse because of me."

His words surprised me.

"What?"

"If that's the future you wanted before we met..."

"Take it."

"You're telling me to leave?"

"I'm telling you not to sacrifice your life because of my mistakes."

I searched his face.

For once, there was no jealousy.

No demand.

No order.

Only regret.

"Three months ago," Damien continued, "I would've locked your passport in the safe."

"I know."

"Today..."

He reached into his inside pocket.

He placed a navy-blue booklet on the drafting table.

My passport.

"I had security return it this morning."

"It's yours."

"Everything that's yours should've always remained yours."

I looked down at the passport.

It felt strangely heavy.

"Why now?"

"Because loving someone shouldn't look like imprisonment."

"I learned that too late."

Neither of us spoke for several moments.

Finally I picked up the passport.

"I'm not leaving before the trial."

"I know."

"But afterwards..."

"You'll decide for yourself," Damien finished.

"As you always should've been allowed to do."

He turned toward the door.

"Damien."

He stopped.

"Thank you."

He gave a faint nod without looking back.

After he left, I opened the stack of envelopes Rose had delivered.

Most contained legal correspondence.

One stood out immediately.

No return address.

No postage stamp.

Someone had delivered it by hand.

Inside was a single sheet of paper.

Typed in plain black letters.

"Accept Paris."

"Leave the country."

"Or you'll die exactly like your brother."

My heartbeat slowed instead of racing.

Whoever sent the letter wasn't trying to frighten me anymore.

They were trying to remove me.

Which meant one thing.

We were getting dangerously close to the truth.