The afternoon sun spilled through the arched windows of the Ravenwood study, casting long shadows over the polished oak desk where a half-finished cup of tea had gone cold. Lucien stood motionless by the glass, his silver-ringed fingers resting against the windowsill.
Grey moved with an unsettling ease, his black robes fluttering slightly in the breeze like a shadow detaching itself from the manor.
The servants' whispers didn't reach him here, but Lucien could imagine them—the relieved murmurs, the barely hidden smirks.
Finally, the disgrace is leaving.
Lucien stood by the window of the meeting room, his gaze fixed on a lone figure walking toward the estate gates—Grey Ravenwood, his son.
His expression was unreadable, a mask of cold detachment, yet his fingers tightened imperceptibly against the windowsill.
The door opened behind him, but he didn't turn. He already knew who it was.
"Lucien."
Only a handful of people dared to address him so informally.
Liana's voice was smooth, familiar, yet it did nothing to pull his attention away from the scene below.
"Did they leave?" he asked, his voice low.
"Yes," Liana replied, stepping closer.
The rustle of her emerald-green gown was the only sound between them for a moment.
"I've already instructed the staff to prepare for the engagement banquet. The Bennetts will arrive in three days."
"...I see."
Silence settled between them, heavy and suffocating.
Liana exhaled softly. "Father won't be pleased about this."
"Father, huh?" The word dripped with bitter amusement.
His hand trembled slightly before he clenched it into a fist.
"...I don't care." The words came out colder than he intended.
"Lucien." She called his name again, softer this time, and he felt the tension in his shoulders ease slightly.
He finally tore his gaze from the window, turning away with a slow, deliberate motion.
"You want to know why I did it, right?" he stated.
"..."
She didn't respond, but her silence was answer enough.
"You, of all people should know the answer" he smirked, his voice eerily calm.
"Of how much I hate that child,"
"..."
Liana remained quiet. It was true—Lucien despised Grey.
But it was also true that hatred had never clouded his judgment before. They had been so close to securing the Bennett household, to finalizing years of careful planning. And yet, in one moment, he had thrown it all away.
Lucien leaned back in his chair, his eyes drifting toward the ceiling as if searching for something in the empty air.
"Today," he murmured, "He looked just like her."
Liana stiffened.
"Her."
That name—that woman—was a ghost in the Ravenwood household, a shadow no one dared to acknowledge.
Just mentioning her was like a taboo in this household..
Liana's fingers curled into a white-knuckled fist at her side, the silk of her gloves straining against the movement.
A decade of practiced composure couldn't stop the instinctive reaction as she watched storm clouds gather in Lucien's eyes.
After all this time, after everything they'd built - that mere whisper of 'her' still had the power to fracture him completely.
"Lucien—"
But he wasn't listening.
His gaze had returned to the window, to the boy now speaking with the old butler.
And when Grey took that final step beyond the gates—when he crossed the threshold without so much as a backward glance—Lucien's pulse spiked.
"He changed," he muttered.
Liana watched him carefully, concern flickering in her eyes.
Ever since he had mentioned 'her', she knew his mind was slipping into dangerous territory.
She reached out, resting a hand on his shoulder.
"The next head of this house will only be our daughter,"
Lucien said suddenly, his voice firm, as if swearing an oath.
"I'll make sure of it. No matter what."
Liana nodded, though unease coiled in her chest.
"Yes. She will be. So don't worry too much."
He exhaled, some of the tension leaving him as she squeezed his hand.
But when she glanced back out the window, Grey's figure was nearly gone, swallowed by the distance.
"Still… Lucien, we should send someone after him," she said carefully. "If anything happens to him, Father will—"
"It's fine."
His voice cut through hers, sharp and final.
"We don't need to intervene."
A faint smirk touched his lips as he toyed with her fingers absently.
"There are plenty of
"People who will protect him… and bring him back."
Liana hesitated, her breath escaping in a slow, controlled stream, yet the knot of tension between her shoulders refused to unwind.
He was right, of course. Logically, she knew this too.
But as Grey's black-clad figure dissolved into the horizon, a peculiar unease took root in her chest.
Like the first crack in dam walls.
Like the distant rumble before an avalanche.
Her lips parted almost unconsciously, the name slipping out in a whisper that seemed to hang in the suddenly still air:
"Grey Ravenwood..."