The rain battered the windows of the Moreau estate as if trying to tear its way inside. Elena stood at the far end of the drawing room, her hands trembling slightly despite her steely resolve. She watched the fire dance in the hearth, but its warmth didn't reach her.
Lucas had returned.
After days of silence following Adrien's appearance, Lucas had finally come home, as if he hadn't upended their world just a week before. No apologies. No explanations. Just a storm cloud in a tailored suit, whose eyes gave away more than he realized.
Elena turned as the doors creaked open.
Lucas stepped inside, droplets of rain clinging to his coat. His eyes immediately found hers—dark, conflicted, unreadable. For a long, quiet moment, neither of them moved.
"You knew he was alive," she said finally, her voice sharp but low.
Lucas removed his coat slowly, hanging it with deliberate care on the stand. "Yes."
"And you let me believe Adrien was dead. For five years, Lucas."
He didn't respond right away. His jaw clenched, and he moved closer to the fire instead of her. "Because it was the only way to keep you safe."
Elena's laugh was bitter. "Safe? You call manipulation and lies 'safe'? You took away my right to grieve, to choose, to feel, Lucas. You built our marriage on a foundation of secrets."
"I built it on necessity," he shot back, eyes now meeting hers with intensity. "You were a target. Adrien's death was staged because he uncovered something—something that could bring down powerful people, not just the Moreaus. If the world knew he was alive, you would've been the first pawn they'd use."
Her breath caught. He wasn't lying. But that didn't absolve him.
"So instead," she whispered, "you made me your pawn."
Lucas flinched.
Silence filled the room once again, thick with everything unsaid.
Elena crossed the room and stood just a foot from him. "Adrien told me about the contract."
Lucas stiffened. "What contract?"
"The one between your father and mine. The one that sold my future for the sake of your empire."
Lucas looked away, his hand curling into a fist. "That contract should've never existed."
"But it did," she snapped. "And you enforced it. You stood at the altar knowing I was just collateral."
"I loved you!" he exploded, voice thunderous. "Even if it started with obligation, it never stayed that way. You became my everything, Elena."
She shook her head, blinking back the sting in her eyes. "Then why didn't you trust me with the truth?"
He hesitated. "Because truth is dangerous in the wrong hands. And I didn't want you to bear the weight of the Moreau legacy. I tried to protect you."
"You didn't protect me, Lucas. You caged me."
The words hit him like a slap.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded paper—aged, creased. "This is the contract," he said quietly. "The original one. I had it destroyed years ago… but I kept a copy. To remind myself what not to become."
Elena took it with trembling fingers. She skimmed it quickly—the signatures, the clauses, the fine print that dictated her life. It was all real. And yet, it wasn't just about the paper.
"You should've burned this," she whispered.
"I couldn't. Because the man who signed it—my father—died thinking he'd secured power. But he only destroyed his sons."
There was a crack in his voice. Vulnerability. Regret.
But Elena was tired of feeling like a casualty.
"I'm leaving," she said, voice firmer than she thought possible.
Lucas's head jerked up. "What?"
"I need space. From this house. From you. From all of it."
"No," he said quickly, stepping forward. "You don't understand. If Adrien is back, things will escalate. There are people watching. You walking out now—"
"—will save what's left of my sanity," she interrupted. "Lucas, I've been nothing but a shadow in this house. I need to find me again."
Lucas's shoulders sagged, his defenses crumbling. "Where will you go?"
"To my mother's old place. The vineyard."
He nodded slowly. "I'll send security."
"No," she said firmly. "I'll handle it. If you really want to respect me, let me take control of something for once."
He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Finally, he said, "I'll wait. However long it takes. Just… don't disappear on me, Elena."
She turned to leave, but paused at the doorway. "Don't wait for me, Lucas. Wait for the truth. Because that's the only thing that can rebuild us."
---
One Week Later
The vineyard hadn't changed.
The lavender bloomed in soft hues. The air smelled of wet earth and nostalgia. Elena stood barefoot on the porch of the old house, sipping tea and watching the morning sun rise over the hills.
Peace. For the first time in years.
She'd spent the week sorting through her mother's journals, rediscovering herself in poetry, letters, and memories. For too long, Elena had lived within the Moreau walls, trying to mold herself into someone worthy of a dynasty. But here—she was simply her.
Her phone buzzed.
A message from an unknown number:
"You're not safe. Lucas was only part of the story. Meet me where the lavender ends. Tonight. Come alone."
Her heart pounded. Adrien?
Or someone else?
The message was signed:
–A.
She stared at it for a long time before responding.
"I'll be there."
---
Later That Night
The moon cast long shadows across the fields. Elena walked the narrow dirt path in silence, flashlight in hand, heart thudding like a warning drum.
She reached the edge of the lavender field—where the blossoms met the dense woods.
A figure emerged from the darkness.
Not Adrien.
A woman. Tall, sharp-featured, with a scar across her temple. Elena recognized her.
Amélie Duret. Adrien's old confidante. A whistleblower. A ghost thought to be dead.
"You shouldn't have come alone," Amélie said.
Elena gripped the flashlight tighter. "You called me."
"I warned you."
Elena's eyes narrowed. "Warned me about what?"
Amélie took a step closer. "The contract was only the surface. There's another layer—a secret clause. One that links the Moreaus to something far more dangerous than business deals."
Elena's mind raced. "What clause?"
But before Amélie could answer, a shot rang out in the distance.
They both ducked.
Voices echoed from the woods. Footsteps closing in.
Amélie grabbed Elena's arm. "Run."
Elena didn't ask questions. She ran—through the lavender, past the house, heart pounding with adrenaline and confusion. Whoever was after them wasn't just after power.
They were after silence.
---
Back at the Estate
Lucas stood by the window, phone to his ear.
"Where is she?" he barked.
"She left the house twenty minutes ago," the guard reported. "She's not alone. Duret is with her."
Lucas's eyes darkened. "I told you to keep a perimeter. No interference."
"But—"
"Pull back. I'm on my way."
As he hung up, his reflection caught in the glass.
Lucas didn't see himself.
He saw the man he swore he'd never become.
And he realized—for the first time—he might already have.
---
To be continued…