Chapter 7
The penthouse suite was a stark contrast to the opulent, chaotic ballroom below. The lighting here was soft and muted, casting gentle shadows over the plush carpets and modern furnishings. Finnian gently laid Lara onto the massive, king-sized bed in the master bedroom, pulling the heavy duvet up to her chin. She was already asleep, her exhausted body succumbing to the safety she hadn't felt in two years.
Aveline stood near the door, her hands folded neatly over her white apron. She had contacted the family's discreet physician, who was already en route, and arranged for food and warm broth to be brought up.
Finnian sat on the edge of the bed, his broad shoulders slumped. He reached out, his tattooed hand gently brushing a matted lock of hair from Lara's pale face. He looked like a man who had survived a war, only to find the battlefield was his own home.
"Are you alright, sir?" Aveline asked softly, breaking the heavy silence.
Finnian slowly turned his head to look at her. "Do I look alright to you, Aveline?" he asked, his deep voice thick with a raw, agonizing guilt. "I slept in this bed for two years while she was caged directly beneath me. I mourned a pile of ashes."
"You couldn't have known," Aveline said gently, stepping further into the room. "He manipulated everyone. He manipulated the entire commission."
"Is ignorance an acceptable excuse for a man in my position?" Finnian countered, standing up and running a hand through his swept-back dark hair. He paced toward the large window overlooking the city skyline. "I should have known. I should have felt that she wasn't gone."
Aveline watched him, her heart aching for the pain radiating from him. The quiet mutual affection they had shared was complicated now, tangled in the sudden resurrection of his wife. But her instinct to comfort him remained absolute.
"You are not the villain in this story, Mr. Aldermere," Aveline said, her expressive eyes locking onto his. "You did not put her in that wall. You did not lie to your family."
"Did I not let the man who did sit at my right hand?" Finnian asked, turning back to face her.
He walked slowly toward her, stopping just a few feet away. The tension in his tailored dark suit was palpable. He looked down at the beautiful, delicate housemaid who had struck a made man with a fire extinguisher to save him.
"Why did you do it?" Finnian asked quietly. "Why did you risk everything for a man who is clearly blind to his own household?"
"Because you were never blind to me," Aveline whispered, her cheeks flushing a natural, rosy hue. "You always treated me with kindness. You never looked at me like I was just the help. I couldn't let him hurt you."
Finnian’s cold, observant eyes softened completely. He reached out, his hand hovering for a fraction of a second before his fingers gently brushed her cheek, exactly where she had touched his reddened skin earlier.
"Do you know that you are the only true thing in this house, Aveline?" Finnian murmured, his thumb lightly tracing her cheekbone.
Before Aveline could answer, a soft knock sounded at the penthouse doors.
"The doctor is here, Boss," a guard's voice called out from the hallway.
Finnian dropped his hand, his posture instantly shifting back into that of a controlled, authoritative leader. "Send him in," he commanded.
As the doctor rushed into the room to attend to Lara, Finnian looked at Aveline, the unspoken connection between them lingering heavily in the air.
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"Will you stay close tonight?" Finnian asked her.
"I won't leave, sir," Aveline promised.
