Chapter 283. A Dance with Jessica

The mood on the dance floor had shifted from exuberant celebration to something warmer, more intimate. The string quartet, sensing the change, slid into a gentle, lyrical piece. The remaining guests—the inner circle—swayed in loose, happy clusters. Anton was across the room, deep in conversation with General Thorne, his posture relaxed in a way Jessica had rarely seen in a decade of service.

Sabatine found her by the long banquet table, quietly directing a server on the preservation of the top tier of the cake. Jessica turned, her face glowing with a happiness that seemed to emanate from her very core. She opened her arms, and Sabatine stepped into them without hesitation, the stiff silk of her dress rustling against Jessica’s lilac chiffon.

“You look,” Jessica whispered, her voice thick, “absolutely transcendent.”

“I feel…light,” Sabatine admitted, the truth of it surprising her as she said it. She pulled back, her hands on Jessica’s shoulders. “And I have you to thank for at least half of today not descending into chaotic, albeit well-intentioned, anarchy.”

Jessica waved a dismissive hand, but her eyes shone. “Nonsense. You had it all under control. You always do.”

“Not this,”Sabatine said, her tone turning serious. She glanced around the glorious, buzzing room, then back at the woman who had been her first, and often only, ally in the gleaming, hostile world of Rogers Industries. “Not the human part. The… the bridal part. You were my anchor.”

She remembered the first, terrifying foray into dress shops, where Jessica had run interference with overzealous consultants. The patient explanations of obscure wedding traditions Sabatine found baffling. The way Jessica had seamlessly coordinated with Gina, bridging the gap between Anton’s world of corporate precision and the earthy, familial warmth of the villa keepers. Jessica had been the translator, the buffer, the steady, unfailing presence.

“Dance with me,” Sabatine said suddenly, the impulse clear and strong.

Jessica blinked.“Oh, I couldn’t, the photographers—”

“To hell with the photographers,”Sabatine said, a flicker of her old defiance in her smile. She held out her hand. “Please.”

After a moment’s surprised hesitation, Jessica took it. They moved onto the edge of the dance floor, an unconventional pair—the bride in her warrior-goddess gown and the elegant executive in soft lilac. Sabatine, taller, took the lead, her hand settling easily at Jessica’s waist, their other hands clasped.

At first, they moved in a simple, awkward box-step, both of them smiling at the absurdity. Then, the music seeped into them, and the movement softened into a genuine sway.

“I mean it, Jess,” Sabatine said, her voice low enough for only the two of them. “When I first came into that office… I was a loaded gun in a room full of crystal. Everyone else saw a threat, or a tool. You saw a person. You brought me tea. You remembered how I took it. You didn’t flinch when I asked for security protocols you probably thought were paranoid.”

Jessica’s eyes filled. “You were paranoid. Brilliantly, necessarily so.”

“But you trusted me anyway.Even when the evidence turned. Even when it would have been easier, smarter, to doubt.” Sabatine’s throat tightened. “You were the first thread that connected me to this world. To him. You were proof that not everyone in his orbit was…”

“A shark?” Jessica supplied softly.

“Yes.”Sabatine smiled, a little watery. “You were the dolphin. Clever, kind, and you showed me the way through the reef.”

Jessica let out a wet laugh, shaking her head. “A dolphin. I’ll take that.” She squeezed Sabatine’s hand. “It wasn’t hard, you know. To trust you. I’d watched Anton build wall after wall for years. I watched him become a ghost in his own life. And then you walked in, and for the first time, I saw the walls matter to someone. Not as an obstacle to be climbed for gain, but as a wound to be understood. I saw you look at him and see the man, not the monument. How could I not trust that?”

They turned a slow circle, the world a gentle blur of light and laughter around them. Sabatine felt the truth of Jessica’s words sink deep, a final piece of her own history settling into place.

“You stood by him through everything,” Sabatine said. “His father. Evelyn. The chaos. You never left your post.”

“It was never just a post,”Jessica corrected gently. “He was a lonely boy who became a lonely man. Someone had to mind the gates. And then you arrived, and you didn’t need to mind them anymore. You opened them.”

She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper meant for Sabatine alone, a secret sealed within the public celebration. “When he came back from Geneva, after the villa… he was different. The shell was gone. He was… quiet. Not empty, but full. He sat at his desk and the first thing he said wasn’t about the stock price or the press. He said, ‘Jessica, we need to find the best doctors. For Sabatine.’” Jessica’s tears spilled over then, tracing clean lines through her perfect makeup. “That’s when I knew. That’s when I truly knew you had saved him. Not his company. Him.”

Sabatine’s own vision blurred. She had known, intellectually, the depth of Anton’s care. But to hear it from Jessica, the witness to his entire adult life, was a gift of unimaginable value.

Jessica gathered herself, her voice firming with a fierce, maternal love. “So you don’t thank me. I thank you. For giving me my friend back. For giving this place,” she gestured vaguely at the grandeur around them, “a soul again. For being the family he never had, and the family I always wanted for him.”

She stopped their swaying, holding Sabatine at arm’s length, her hands on her shoulders. Her gaze was intense, full of a decade’s worth of hopes fulfilled. “You deserve this happiness, Sabatine,” she whispered, the words a fervent vow. “Every second of it. You fought for it. You bled for it. You built it with your own two hands. Don’t you ever, for one moment, doubt that you deserve it.”

The words landed in Sabatine’s heart with the weight of an absolution. The last, hidden ghost of guilt—the whisper that perhaps her joy was stolen, or accidental, or would be reclaimed by the darkness—dissolved under the sheer, certain love in Jessica’s eyes.

Sabatine couldn’t speak. She simply pulled Jessica into another tight embrace, feeling the smaller woman’s shoulders shake with quiet emotion. Over Jessica’s shoulder, she caught Anton’s eye. He had finished his conversation and was watching them, his expression so soft, so full of understanding, that it stole her breath.

The song ended. They parted, both wiping their eyes, laughing shakily at their own emotional state.

“Now,” Jessica said, recomposing herself with a businesslike sniff, “go dance with your husband. And save me a slice of that cake. I did most of the work ordering it, after all.”

Sabatine kissed her cheek. “The biggest slice. I promise.”

As she walked back towards Anton,the feeling of lightness was deeper, more grounded. Jessica’s anchor had held her fast through the storm. Now, in the calm, the anchor had become a foundation. And on that foundation, her happiness stood, not as a fragile gift, but as a deserved and lasting truth.

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