The wind howled outside the Laurent estate, sweeping dead leaves across the cobbled driveway as dusk settled over the mansion. Inside, the atmosphere was tense, almost brittle.
Lucien stood on the balcony of his private study, sleeves rolled up, eyes locked on the distant gates below. Ever since Elena had confessed the truth about Vincent, something in him had shifted—snapped, even.
He had always been protective in his own way, but this felt different. Deeper. Like someone had crossed a line that Lucien didn't even know existed before Elena.
He hadn't realized it until last night—how much she'd begun to matter.
Now, her past had come back to haunt her, and by extension, him. And Lucien Laurent was not the kind of man who forgave threats easily.
He turned as footsteps approached.
"Sir," said Darius, his head of security. "The perimeter's been reinforced. No sightings today, but we're monitoring all access points. I've also pulled up Romano's financials."
Lucien raised an eyebrow. "And?"
"Two offshore accounts recently activated. Heavy cash withdrawals. He's funding something—or someone."
Lucien's jaw clenched. "Find out what. And track everything. If he so much as breathes in her direction again, I want to know."
"Yes, sir."
Darius hesitated before adding, "We also ran a secondary scan of Elena's devices. She deleted a text from him yesterday. The message was... unsettling."
Lucien stiffened. "Show me."
Downstairs, Elena sat in the sunroom, trying to lose herself in one of the novels she used to enjoy. But her thoughts refused to settle. The text, the shadows, Lucien's reaction—it was all spiraling too quickly.
For so long, she had felt like a ghost in her own story. A woman navigating life in silence, adapting to survival, pretending she wasn't afraid when the fear screamed inside her.
But now… now she was standing beside someone who didn't ask her to pretend.
Lucien had surprised her last night. Not with anger or accusations, but with quiet rage on her behalf. With a promise—not the kind made in contracts, but the kind sealed in eye contact and clenched fists.
She heard footsteps and looked up. Lucien entered the room, his expression unreadable. He held a printout in his hand.
"Elena," he said softly. "Why didn't you show me this?"
She didn't have to look to know what it was. The text.
"I didn't want to make things worse," she whispered.
His voice hardened. "You think shielding me from threats to my wife makes things better?"
Her head bowed. "I didn't want you to think I was weak."
Lucien crossed the room in three long strides and lifted her chin. "Never say that again. You're not weak, Elena. You're the strongest person I've ever met. But strength doesn't mean facing everything alone."
Tears welled in her eyes, not from fear, but from the weight of being seen—finally seen.
"Then help me," she said. "Because I don't know how to fight him anymore."
Lucien wrapped his arms around her. "You don't have to. I'll do it for both of us."
That night, they dined together in the formal dining room for the first time in weeks. It wasn't planned. It wasn't grand. But it felt... real.
Elena had changed into a simple dark green dress. Her hair was tied up loosely, strands falling around her face. Lucien noticed, as he always did—but this time, he told her.
"You look beautiful."
Her eyes widened slightly at the compliment. "Thank you."
They ate in a calm, thoughtful silence until Elena finally asked, "What happens now?"
Lucien set his fork down. "Now? Now we play offense."
Her brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"
"I've already put surveillance on Vincent. But that's not enough. Men like him—they thrive on fear and silence. So we're going to give him neither."
Elena stared at him. "You want to confront him?"
Lucien's gaze was ice. "I want to end him."
"No," she said quickly, reaching across the table. "If you do that, you'll be dragged into something that won't just ruin your name—it'll ruin everything."
Lucien studied her hand on his, her skin warm against his cool exterior.
"He threatened you, Elena. And I don't take threats lightly."
"I know," she said gently. "But let me face this my way. Please."
Lucien hesitated. Then gave a reluctant nod.
"Your way," he said. "But with my protection."
The next morning, Elena stood in front of the mirror, practicing the expression she hadn't worn in years—confidence.
She was going to confront Vincent. Not alone, of course. But face to face. No more hiding. No more letting fear dictate her choices.
Lucien had arranged a public restaurant meeting. Neutral ground. Cameras, witnesses, an exit plan. Everything was accounted for.
Still, her hands trembled slightly as she adjusted her earrings.
Lucien entered the room behind her and watched her from the doorway.
"You don't have to do this," he said.
"I do," she replied, turning to face him. "Not for you. Not even for us. For me."
Lucien walked over and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. "I'll be right outside. One word, and I'm there."
"I know."
The restaurant was quiet, dimly lit but elegant. Elena sat at a corner table, her posture straight, her expression neutral.
Vincent walked in ten minutes late.
He still wore that smug grin. That tailored arrogance. His dark eyes scanned the room before locking onto her.
"Elena," he said, sliding into the seat across from her. "Didn't expect you to be so bold."
"I didn't expect you to crawl back into my life."
He chuckled. "Come now. Is that any way to greet an old flame?"
She folded her hands. "We're not flames. We're ashes."
Vincent leaned forward. "You disappeared. Left me without a word. That was cruel, Elena."
"So was what you did to me. The control. The threats. The bruises."
His smile faded.
"You made your choice," he said coldly. "But I don't like unfinished business."
"Well, here I am," she said, voice steady. "Finishing it."
He raised an eyebrow. "You think marrying Laurent makes you untouchable?"
"No," she replied. "But loving myself does."
Vincent's expression twisted. "Careful, Elena. You think Lucien's going to protect you forever? Men like him don't stay interested in broken things."
"Then it's a good thing I'm not broken anymore," she said, standing. "And one more thing—come near me again, and you'll find out just how dangerous Lucien can be."
Vincent stood too, his jaw tight. But something in her eyes made him pause. Made him hesitate.
Elena turned on her heel and walked out.
Lucien was already at the car, watching the door.
She got in without a word. He followed.
"You did well," he said quietly as the driver pulled away.
"I feel sick."
"You were brave."
She looked at him, the stress of the confrontation melting into something warmer. Safer.
"I'm glad I'm not alone anymore."
Lucien reached for her hand and held it tight.
"You never were."