Chapter Forty-Four
*The Debt Repaid*
The restaurant was quiet, exclusive, and dimly lit. Aurora Lax sat at a corner table, a fortress of composure in Chanel and pearls. Opposite her, in a wheelchair pushed by a discreet nurse, was Francis Louis. He looked pale, thinner than the robust man she remembered, but his storm-colored eyes still held a desperate, pleading light.
“You look well, Aurora,” Francis began, his voice raspy.
“You requested this meeting, Francis. Get to the point,” Aurora replied, her voice colder than the ice in her water glass. “We are not here for nostalgia.”
Francis flinched, then nodded. “Leonor told me about the dinner. About Naomi. About… Lyra.” He took a labored breath. “I am dying, Aurora. The cancer is in my bones. There is no more time for pretty lies.”
“T
