The Vasiliev mansion was never the same since Ana left. Silence ceased to be an invisible accomplice and became a constant punishment. Every room seemed colder, every shadow longer. And at the center of it all, there was Lucian, standing in front of the large window, staring at a horizon that no longer made sense without her.
The man who once controlled everything, who spoke with a serene voice and icy gaze, now walked barefoot through the corridors like a lost child. He had begun to cast off the chains he himself had forged: he dismissed the servants who mistreated her, destroyed the documents that tied him to Viktoria's shady dealings, and confronted the demons that bore his last name.
But guilt is not erased by noble deeds.
Lucian had begun to remember, to unearth his own scars. His childhood marked by heartbreak, by an absent father and a mother who saw only power. He remembered how his sister Viktoria had learned to survive by lying, manipulating... and how he had chosen another mask: that of perfection, of control.
Control. That word had defined him for years.
Until Ana arrived.
Ana, with her silences that screamed more than any words, with her pain wrapped in sweetness. With her awkward laughter, her unexpected resistance, her trembling but real love.
He didn't deserve her. Not yet.
And so, he decided to change. Not for her. Not to get her back. But because for the first time in his life he wanted to be a man worth loving, even if no one ever did again.
He tore down the family portraits in the hallways. He had the greenhouse rebuilt where she used to hide. He began writing in a journal that no one would read, trying to figure out which part of him was real and which had been constructed out of fear.
Months passed. Ana didn't come back.
But Lucian did not stop changing.
One day, he decided to look for her. Not to demand, not to claim. Just to see her. To ask for forgiveness with his eyes, if she didn't want to hear it.
He found her in a small house at the edge of the forest, teaching children to read, to write, to dream.
He did not dare to approach her. He watched her from a distance. And when he saw her smile, when he saw her free, he knew she had made it. And he... was learning to do it too.
-Thank you, Ana," he murmured to the wind. For teaching me that to love is not to possess... it is to let be.
And without waiting for me to see him, he turned around.
But before she lost herself in the trees, she heard his voice.
-Are you going to leave without saying anything?
Lucian turned around. Anne was standing in the doorway, wrapped in the golden light of the sunset. She wasn't smiling, but she didn't hate it either. In her eyes, there was something new: peace.
-I didn't want to ruin it," he said. Not after all.
She came down the steps and stopped in front of him. Silence.
-Did you change? -asked Ana in a soft voice.
Lucian nodded. -I'm trying. Every day. But I don't know if it will be enough.
Ana looked at him for a few long seconds. Then she took his hand.
-Then walk with me. Don't promise to be perfect. Promise to be real.
And so, under the shade of the trees, Lucian took his first step toward redemption. Not as a prince, not as a jailer, but as a man who learned to love... when he had nothing left to lose.