Guérir Le Chaos

Chapter Three: Returning Back to Hell

Next Day

I spent the rest of the morning organizing the remaining files tied to the company I was about to leave behind with the old man.

It wasn’t in me to just walk away—not without making sure everything was settled, every loose end tied, every unresolved issue addressed. No matter how much I wanted out, I wasn’t careless. This empire, no matter how suffocating it felt, still carried my name. My blood. My burden.

By exactly three o’clock in the afternoon, I arrived at the mansion.

Right on time.

As I stepped into the receiving area, I found him there—just as expected. The old man sat on his antique rocking chair, the same one he always claimed had “history,” gently swaying back and forth as though time itself moved with him. A business magazine rested in his hands, his sharp, aging eyes scanning through articles like a hawk surveying prey.

Even now, he never stopped working.

Even now, he never rested.

He must’ve sensed my presence, because without missing a beat, he lifted his gaze and met mine.

“Dieu merci! You’re finally here now. You may seat here beside me,” he said, gesturing toward the sofa next to him. (Thank God!)

I didn’t argue.

For once.

I walked over and sat where he wanted me to.

“Later, at six o’clock in the evening, our private plane will help you reach your desired destination,” he continued, casually flipping a page of his magazine. “Oh! By the way, where did you plan to take your vacation leave?”

He didn’t even bother to look at me.

Still glued to that damn magazine.

Irritating.

“I’m planning to go back to the Philippines, old man.”

The words had barely left my lips when he froze.

Slowly, he lifted his head and looked straight at me—really looked this time.

Shock.

That’s what I saw in his eyes.

“What?! Are you really sure about this, ma chérie?”

His voice carried disbelief… and something else.

Concern.

I took a deep breath.

“Oui, old man. I’ve planned this ahead of your decision. I didn’t expect that my return to that damn country would happen this soon.”

There was a bite in my voice. I couldn’t help it.

Just thinking about going back there—

It stirred something ugly inside me.

Calm down, b***h.

Don’t ruin your night this time.

“D’accord, je comprends. I respect your decision,” he said quietly. (Alright, I understand.)

“I hope this time, you’ll finally find the peace you’ve been needing. And I do wish that when you come back home—here, with me—you’ll be much more fine than ever.”

Before I could react—

He hugged me.

I stiffened.

Completely caught off guard.

For a moment, I just stood there, unsure what to do, my eyes slightly widened as I looked down at him.

Then I heard it.

A faint, uneven breath.

A sniff.

Shit.

Is this old man… crying?

“Yeah… I hope so too,” I muttered awkwardly. “Don’t worry about me too much. I’ll be just fine. You know I can handle myself very well. Garde cela à l’esprit.” (Keep that in mind.)

I lightly patted his back, still not used to this… softness.

This wasn’t him.

Or maybe—

It was.

“Okay. I’ll keep it in my mind,” he replied, pulling away.

I noticed it.

The quick swipe of his hand across his cheek.

The faint trace of tears he tried—and failed—to hide.

For a second—

Just a second—

Something inside me softened.

But it didn’t last.

“By the way,” he added, clearing his throat, “I’ll remind you about Faust.”

My expression darkened instantly.

What now?

That bastard again?

The guilt came rushing back, uninvited and unwelcome.

“Once he fully recovers from the injuries you caused on his face, he will definitely follow you to the Philippines. He’ll accompany you as your personal butler there. Okay?”

Bwisit.

I clenched my jaw.

I thought I was free.

I thought this was my time.

So why the hell is Faust Donnadieu still part of the equation?

“Mon enfant, I know that look,” he said firmly. (My child.)

“I won’t change my decision. It’s a deal you must accept if you truly want this vacation. And you know very well—I do not take no for an answer.”

Damn it.

I hated this.

I hated his idea.

But—

“Okay. I get it,” I cut him off, exhaling sharply. “No need to elaborate. I know it’s important. It’s part of our f*****g lifetime protocol—the family’s golden rules.

The words tasted bitter.

But I said them anyway.

Because I had to.

Because if this was the price of my freedom—

Then fine.

So be it.

“Great,” he said with a satisfied nod. “Now go and freshen up. In an hour or two, you’ll be leaving the house. My men will accompany you to the airport. Gustavo Salazar will be your private pilot for today. He’ll deliver you to the Philippines safe and sound.”

Of course he arranged everything.

He always did.

“I’ve also prepared everything you’ll need during your flight. So there will be no problem getting you ahead, ma chérie.”

Gosh.

I’m too old for these constant assurances.

But…

Fine.

I’ll let him have this.

Without another word, I turned and headed upstairs.

Straight to my room.

The moment I stepped inside, I shut the door behind me and locked it.

Silence.

Finally.

I wasted no time removing my clothes and shoes, letting them fall carelessly to the floor. I untied my hair, shaking it loose as I walked toward the bathroom.

I turned on the faucet, letting lukewarm water fill the bathtub.

From my bathroom closet, I grabbed one of my favorite bath bombs—the s*x bomb scent. Without hesitation, I dropped it into the water.

It fizzed instantly.

Blooming into a soft, princess pink hue.

The scent filled the air—sweet, sensual, sophisticated.

God, I loved this.

Once the tub was ready, I slowly dipped myself into the water.

A soft sigh escaped my lips.

Ahh…

Perfect.

The warmth wrapped around me like a comforting embrace, easing the tension in my body. I leaned back, resting my head against the edge of the tub, and closed my eyes.

For a moment—

Peace.

But then—

The thoughts came.

Uninvited.

Relentless.

Fuck… this is it, Rox.

You’re really going back there.

“No,” I whispered to myself. “Stop thinking irrational things.”

It won’t help.

It never does.

I exhaled sharply.

Enough.

I wasn’t going to let my mind spiral again.

After a while, I forced myself out of the bath and dried off quickly.

No more overthinking.

No more hesitation.

I stepped into my walk-in closet, scanning through rows of designer pieces until I found something fitting.

Something me.

I chose a black cady vest dress from Gucci, layering it with an Off-White Lamé pinstripe coat from Sacai. For shoes, I slipped into my red Marmont heeled sandals—also Gucci.

Sharp.

Elegant.

Untouchable.

From my jewelry vault, I retrieved my gold and gunmetal Palazzo Empire Versace watch, along with my Balenciaga gold mesh earrings.

Once everything was in place, I looked at myself in the mirror.

Perfect.

Composed.

Unbreakable.

At least on the outside.

When I stepped out of the mansion, my Lamborghini Aventador 2020 was already waiting at the entrance.

Of course it was.

The old man’s men had already loaded my luggage into another vehicle—a blood-red 2019 Chrysler Pacifica Limited minivan.

I got into my car and started the engine.

The roar of it—

It grounded me.

A few minutes later, I arrived at the airport.

Private terminal.

Private access.

Private everything.

Just how he liked it.

Escorted by his men, I made my way into the business class suite of the private plane.

As I settled into my seat, the soft hum of advanced systems filled the cabin. A stewardess’ voice echoed through the high-tech speakers, going over safety precautions and flight details.

But I barely listened.

My mind was elsewhere.

Drifting.

Sinking.

Memories started flashing.

One after another.

Sharp.

Painful.

Unforgiving.

I clenched my fists.

Damn it.

I can’t believe I’m actually doing this.

Going back.

Returning to the place I swore I’d never see again.

My chest tightened.

My breath hitched.

And as the plane prepared for departure—

Only one word echoed in my mind.

Hell.