They both fell quiet.
But it wasn't the kind of silence that pressed down with unspoken things. This one was strangely comfortable. Aria could hear his breathing through the line, steady and low. And instinctively, she knew he was listening with rapt attention to hers, too.
Aria felt the vibration of Crispin's bass voice come through, firmer than before.
"I'll call you one week after my birthday," he said. "Please pick up."
She closed her eyes and whispered, "Okay."
The silence stretched again, weighted now with bittersweet parting. She could hear the quiet rustle of his shirt, the creak of leather under his fingers.
Then, after a beat, he said, almost to himself, "I'm going to put the phone down now. Because if I don't, I'm going to pick up my coat, walk out the door, and come to you. And then I'll stop you from leaving for Oxford and putting more space between us."
A pause. Then his voice dropped, hoarse and breaking. "I feel you are slipping away from me, and I have no way of stopping the tide. But I need to let you do this because you won't let me take care of you...and I know that Lule is the one person you trust enough to let her in."
He exhaled, a note drenched in pain. "And that hurts so much, Aria. It kills me that I'm not your person...but I will be."
She pressed her palm to her heart as if it might stop it from shattering yet again.
But she held her tongue.
Because in that moment, neither of them had words big enough for what sat between them.
Only the line remained and the silence. And the sound of goodbye, not said but felt.
Chapter 36
Crispin
The office lights burned overhead long after the others had gone home.
Crispin stared at the spreadsheet without really seeing it. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, but the numbers merged together, irrelevant next to the one thing he couldn't quantify-loss.
He had started at the very bottom. That was his father's one condition.
If he wanted to work at Du Valares Holdings, he had to earn his place. There would be no handouts or fast-tracking on account of his surname.
So, Crispin made the coffee. He carted boxes of audit files across the city in the rain and sat through endless meetings where he wasn't allowed to speak, only listen and take notes. Everyone either hated him for being the heir or avoided him like a walking HR liability. He knew what they called him behind his back: "the crown prince," "Simon's golden boy," "the ticking time bomb."
But he kept his head down and worked harder than anyone else. He had outperformed, outstayed, and outlasted his rivals.
And slowly, begrudgingly, he won them over.
His father, Simon Du Valares, had been openly proud as he moved up the ranks. Crispin still remembered the rare smile on his father's face the day the board had voted to make him managing director.
But the title meant nothing now when his father still held the board in his pocket. Not when power was still tethered to inherited shares and loyalty bought in silence. His father thought he was being subtle in his preparation, but Crispin had learned at the feet of the master.
That same father had summoned him to the house two nights after the dinner where everything fell apart.
Crispin had walked into his father's study like a soldier entering hostile territory.
Simon had been waiting, fury simmering just below the surface. "Do you understand what you've done?"
Crispin's expression did not change. "I stood beside the woman I love."
"You're putting everything at risk," Simon hissed. "Your position, your future..."
"Then fire me," Crispin said evenly. "But unless you have a legitimate reason, I'll sue the company and you personally. So, unless you're prepared to explain to the board why you're ousting the managing director without cause, I'm not going anywhere."
