He immediately stood up and walked over to the balcony to take the call. The sudden movement caused his wine glass to fall off the table, sending shards of glass everywhere.
A small piece of glass nicked her on the arm and red immediately tainted her fair skin and dripped onto the floor.
Oliver didn’t even turn around to look. He spent a long time on the balcony talking to Cecelia before he grabbed his coat from the rack and headed for the door.
“Where are you going?” She asked quietly even though she already knew the answer.
“Something came up. I have to go.”
“You haven’t signed the papers.”
He sighed, then walked back to the table and hastily signed his name on the bottom of both pages. “There. Can I go now?”
She stared at the signatures in resignation, and nodded softly. “Yeah… go.”
He walked out at the speed of light. Like something was chasing him out of their home.
She laughed bitterly. He couldn’t even bother to pay enough attention to know that he had just signed the papers for her freedom.
Or that their floor was stained with her blood.
Oliver had always loved Cecelia. She was the “real” heir to the Fontaine wealth after all.