But he had never blamed me. Despite everything, he loved me too much to hold my choices against me. His protectiveness often felt suffocating, but it was born from genuine care.
I remembered his last attempt to pull me away from Raphael’s toxic embrace. His cold, matter-of-fact message felt more like a warning than an invitation.
[Come home. Your fiancé is waiting.]
At the time, I had read those words with resentment, thinking he was trying to control me, to bend my life to his will. I had called him cruel, selfish, and unfeeling.
But that time, I saw his offer for what it truly was—a lifeline.
A chance to leave Raphael forever.
As the call connected, I directly asked first, “Is your offer about the fiancé still valid now, Vic?”
“You finally realized that only your family is good to you?”
Victor’s voice was smooth, unreadable, but I knew him well enough to catch the sharp edge hidden beneath his words.
He had read through my silence, or perhaps, he had always known that I was merely trapped in Raphael’s web of sweet lies.
My fingers tightened around the phone, my throat dry as I finally admitted, “I’m ending it with Raphael. I’ll be returning to Paris.”
A pause. Then, the sound of a slow exhale, deliberate and measured.
“Good,” Victor replied, his tone betraying no emotion except for the faintest trace of vindication. “You should’ve never been with him.”
A surge of frustration flared inside me, a mix of residual heartbreak and the exhaustion of always being told what I should and should not do. “I don’t need a lecture, Vic. I just need you to keep your word.”
Victor hummed, a low, considering sound. “You’ll be taken care of the moment you arrive. Your fiancé is expecting you.”
My stomach twisted.
A fiancé. A stranger. Another man whose presence in my life was dictated by obligation rather than choice.
But anything was better than staying in London, drowning in Raphael’s deceit.
Victor’s voice softened, though it still carried the weight of finality. “Take care of everything for a week. I expect you back then.”
And just like that, the call ended before I could say anything more.
I lowered the phone, staring blankly at the dimly lit bedroom around me. The silence felt heavier, oppressive, as if the walls themselves were closing in.
That was Victor. The older brother I once knew—sweet, protective, always teasing me with his rare but affectionate smiles—had disappeared years ago.