Page 68 of Outcast’s Return

“Yes.”

“The bastard.”

She gives me more details about this Steven.

“I didn’t suspect for a moment that he would do this...”

“In my life I have learned one rule,” I reply. “Don’t trust anyone. Even those closest to you.”

Jolie looks at me, sunken and resigned.

“That’s been my weakness, hasn’t it? I’m too trusting.”

I don’t say a thing.

“He’s outplayed us, Fabien,” Jolie mutters. “Even Clement’s lost as to what to do.”

“There’s nothing that can reverse it?” I ask. “Surely you can do something?”

Jolie sadly shakes her head.

“The deal’s fallen through. Steven made sure of that. He’s probably already gone ahead and signed something today with them. Yes, I know you and Clement both have lawyers, but it’s no use. It’s too late, barring a divine miracle.”

On the table in front of us, her phone buzzes.

Clement’s calling.

Jolie curls her legs up close to her face at the sight of his name.

“I don’t want to talk to him,” she says. “I don’t want to face what I’ve done.”

“You need to, Jolie. He’s your brother.”

She looks at me with doleful eyes and sighs.

“Yeah. I know. I just... I can’t bear it.”

Hesitantly, she picks up the phone and raises it to her ear. I don’t catch what Clement is saying on the other end, but Jolie doesn’t talk much. She doesn’t mention me. She doesn’t mention where she is.

When she hangs up, she tucks the phone under the pillow on the couch and turns back to me.

“It’s official,” she whispers. “Any chance of the acquisition is terminated. I guess that’s it for me, then. Plus Clement’s reputation is sinking down the drain. Everything he’s worked for... kaput.”

There is nothing I can say that will soothe her now. We simply sit here in silence, processing it.

I’m so fucking conflicted. There’s a strong part of me that is crying out to pull away and walk out the door, to affirm the bad she’s done to me, but then there’s another side of me that sees her softness right now. Her vulnerability. Last night I told her I’m not a monster, and now I see that she isn’t one as well. She’s real. She’s here.

And she needs me.

Eventually, her head rolls back against the couch, and her eyes start to close. She’s exhausted.

She drifts off to sleep.

I watch her for a long minute, and then I slowly rise and clean up the shattered glass on the tiles, sweeping it into the trash.

I stop and lean against the counter.

This woman has caused me so much pain. I should be rejoicing in her career’s destruction.