The sound of her heels echoed down the stone corridor, sharp and relentless like the storm inside her chest. Elena yanked open the heavy oak door of the Moreau library and stepped inside, slamming it shut behind her.
The world outside might have still been dancing, drinking, and laughing beneath chandeliers—but in here, Elena was hunting the past.
She marched to the fireplace where her uncle's portrait still hung—Adrien Moreau, the brother who had been erased from the family line with surgical precision. His piercing gray eyes stared down at her with the same quiet sorrow they always had. Only now, Elena was sure: this man hadn't vanished. He'd been sacrificed.
"You trusted them," she whispered to the painting. "But I won't."
She reached behind the portrait and pulled down the latch Lucas thought no one knew about.
A hidden drawer clicked open in the wall panel beside the mantle. Inside, stacked under dust-covered velvet, were letters, ledgers, and—at the very bottom—a contract.
Elena's breath caught in her throat.
It's real.
She pulled it out, her hands trembling as her eyes skimmed the text. Her uncle's signature was scrawled at the bottom in thick black ink. And above it—an agreement that went far beyond business. It wasn't just about transferring shares or company power. It was about guardianship, about silencing truths, about…
Her fingers froze.
"...and in exchange for full immunity from criminal prosecution, Adrien Moreau hereby relinquishes custody of minor E.L.M., effective immediately..."
Her vision blurred. Her heart pounded like war drums.
Minor E.L.M. Her initials.
She was the contract.
"Elena?" came a voice from behind.
She spun around.
Lucas.
His hair was tousled, his bowtie undone. The composed facade he wore like armor at parties had cracked. His shirt was rumpled, eyes slightly bloodshot. And in the golden lamplight, he didn't look like a tycoon or a villain. He looked like a man whose past was finally catching up to him.
"You shouldn't be here," he said slowly, eyes flicking to the contract in her hand.
"And you shouldn't have lied," she shot back. "He didn't sign this to save himself. He signed this to protect me."
Lucas ran a hand down his face, stepping forward. "It's not what you think."
"Oh?" she scoffed. "Because what I think is that Adrien was about to expose the family, and you made him choose between prison or handing over his own niece like some bargaining chip."
Lucas's jaw tightened. "You don't know everything."
"No," she said. "But I know enough."
She held up the contract like it was a dagger. "You had me placed under guardianship. Changed my identity. Hid me under the Moreau trust like an asset."
"You were in danger, Elena!" Lucas shouted, his voice cracking for the first time. "Adrien made enemies. The kind who don't knock. The kind who make people disappear."
She stared at him, heart aching from the tangled web unraveling at her feet.
"I was a child," she whispered. "I had the right to know."
Lucas's voice dropped to a whisper too. "And I had the responsibility to protect you. Even if it meant lying."
A beat of silence passed between them—filled with fire, grief, and years of betrayal.
"Tell me everything," Elena said finally. "Right now. Or I'll walk into that ballroom and read this contract in front of every investor you've ever charmed."
Lucas flinched like she had struck him. For a moment, he looked like he might refuse.
But then he nodded, slowly. "Lock the door."
---
Lucas poured himself a drink but didn't touch it. He leaned against the edge of the massive desk like it might anchor him in place.
"It started when Adrien found out what our father did," he said. "The embezzlements. The blood money from the Eastern projects. He wanted to go to the press—turn state's evidence."
Elena said nothing. She simply listened.
"I begged him to stop," Lucas continued. "Not because I wanted the money or the power—but because it would've destroyed the entire family. Including you. You were barely ten. You had no parents left. If Adrien went to prison, you'd be taken by the state, exposed, maybe even used as leverage by the people he was going to testify against."
He met her gaze. "So I gave him an out."
"An out that made him give me up," Elena said bitterly.
Lucas nodded. "Yes. I made it look like he died. We faked the boat crash. You came here under a new name, given every luxury, protected behind walls so high no one would question who you were. And Adrien… he disappeared."
"Where is he now?" she asked, breathless.
Lucas hesitated.
"Tell me," she demanded.
He lowered his voice. "Dead. For real this time."
The air turned ice cold.
"Three years ago," he continued, staring at the floor. "They found him. He refused to stay hidden. He thought you were old enough to know. He wanted to take you away. But they got to him first."
Elena stumbled back a step, her body swaying with the impact of the truth.
"You let him die?" she whispered.
"No," Lucas growled, pain cutting through his voice. "I tried to save him. I sent people, paid for security—but it was too late. They sent him back in pieces."
The room spun.
Tears threatened the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them away. She wouldn't cry. Not now.
"So why keep hiding it?" she said after a long silence. "Why not tell me?"
Lucas looked at her, and for the first time, there was no calculation in his expression—only grief.
"Because the moment you knew the truth, you'd go looking for them. You'd want revenge, answers. And they'd want to finish what they started."
"I don't care," Elena said, her voice trembling. "They stole him from me. From us."
Lucas shook his head. "No, Elena. If they come after you now, I won't be able to stop them."
"Well," she said, straightening her back, "maybe I don't want you to."
He crossed the space between them in three strides, grabbing her arm—not rough, but firm.
"You think this is a game? That your fire will burn them down?" His voice shook with desperation. "They'll snuff you out like a match."
She looked up at him, fire blazing in her eyes.
"Then let them try."
He stared at her for a long moment, then let go.
"You're just like him," he said. "Stubborn. Brave. Doomed."
"I'd rather be doomed with the truth," she whispered, "than safe in your lies."
She walked past him, pausing only at the door.
"I'm not your asset anymore, Lucas. I'm not your secret to protect."
"Elena," he said. She stopped, not turning around.
"If you go after them," he said quietly, "you'll need allies. And enemies. Be careful which one I become."
Without another word, she left.
---
Outside the library, the ballroom lights still shone, the music still played, and the world still danced.
But Elena Moreau was done dancing.
The shadows had tried to keep her quiet. The contract had tried to define her. But now she knew everything—who she was, what she had lost, and what she had to do next.
And as she walked away from the past, one truth burned brighter than ever in her heart:
She was not the girl who had been given up. She was the woman who had been forged.