"For now." He leans in slightly. "You’re a Moreau; you’ll inherit an empire. It’s time you took your place in it."
"Or you just want me back where you can see me."
His jaw tightens. For a second, the glacier smile cracks. "I want you to stop wasting your potential on a point you've already made."
"And what point is that?"
"That you can survive without me." He picks up his champagne glass again, takes a slow sip. "You've proven it. Now come home."
I should say no.
I should tell him exactly what I think of his "generous" offer and walk away.
But part of me—the part that remembers marble halls and endless money and never having to worry about rent—hesitates.
It would be easier.
No more cramped apartments. No more budget spreadsheets. No more wondering if I can afford the life I used to take for granted.
Just comfort. Security. The cage I've always known.
"I'll think about it," I say finally.
His smile returns. Victorious. "Good. Take your time. The offer stands."
***
NICO
The suit doesn't fit right.
Not because it's the wrong size. Because the knee brace underneath makes the left pant leg pull tight, and every step reminds me I'm walking into a chalet full of sponsors and journalists who watched me DNS this morning.
I should be embarrassed.
I'm not.
I've already done three media rounds. Same questions. Same answers.
"The knee wasn't ready."
"Long-term health comes first."
"It was the right call."
Some believed me. Some didn't. I could see it in their faces. The ones who nodded and said "mature decision" and the ones who looked at me like I'd quit.
I don't care anymore. Some numbers might be smaller on the contracts after the season. But we’ll negotiate, like we always do.
I step into the chalet. Eiswerk banners on one side, Vektor on the other. And some other brands in between. The usual circus.
And then I see them.
Élise and her father.
They're standing by the Eiswerk display. He's holding a champagne glass. She's holding a clipboard. They're talking, and from the way her shoulders are tight, the way she's gripping that clipboard like it's a shield, I know it's not casual.
Old Nico would have stormed over. Territorial. Protective. Ready to remind Laurent whose girlfriend she is.
