The soft hum of the car was the only sound between Lucien and Elena as they drove away from the restaurant. But in that silence, something was changing—subtle, but undeniable.
Elena sat with her fingers interlocked, her gaze on the city passing outside the tinted windows. Her confrontation with Vincent had left a strange ache in her chest—relief, exhaustion, and a sliver of pride she wasn't used to feeling.
"You were incredible back there," Lucien said, breaking the silence.
She turned toward him, startled by the softness in his voice.
"I didn't feel incredible," she admitted. "I felt like my legs were going to give out."
"But you stood anyway," he replied. "That's what strength is."
She smiled faintly. "I'm not used to having someone in my corner."
Lucien looked at her, and for a moment, the cold CEO exterior melted.
"You're not alone anymore, Elena. Not in this. Not in anything."
It was such a simple promise. But to her, it felt monumental.
Back at the estate, the atmosphere was calmer. Darius had personally increased the security detail, and Lucien had requested extra background checks on everyone near the house—staff, vendors, even temporary workers.
Paranoia, perhaps.
But when it came to Elena, Lucien wasn't willing to leave anything to chance.
While Elena rested in their shared room, Lucien locked himself in his office and pulled up the footage from earlier.
He rewatched the restaurant interaction, paying close attention to Vincent's expression. There was something off—something calculated.
Lucien leaned back in his chair, brows furrowed. Vincent hadn't shown up to plead, or even intimidate. He had been testing boundaries, observing. Like a predator waiting for the perfect time to strike.
Lucien's phone buzzed.
It was Darius. "Sir, we may have a bigger problem. One of Vincent's shell companies just wired half a million to a private investigator in Los Angeles."
Lucien sat forward. "Who's he investigating?"
"Elena."
His blood turned to ice. "Shut it down. I want that investigator's name, address, phone records. Everything."
"Yes, sir."
Lucien ended the call and stood, pacing. Vincent wasn't done. He was digging for something—something that might give him leverage. And Lucien wouldn't let that happen.
He grabbed his coat and headed to the door.
Elena awoke from a restless nap, the echo of her conversation with Vincent still playing in her mind. Though she had walked away feeling empowered, his last words lingered like poison in her veins.
"Men like him don't stay interested in broken things."
She hated how much that line had pierced her.
Lucien had been so kind. So steady. But how long would that last? Could a man like him really want someone like her—a woman with baggage, scars, and secrets?
As she stepped into the hallway, she heard the low murmur of voices downstairs.
Curious, she followed the sound until she reached the library.
To her surprise, she found Camille, Lucien's younger sister, sitting cross-legged on the floor, chatting animatedly with the housekeeper while folding linens.
"Elena!" Camille grinned when she saw her. "You look like you just survived a war."
Elena laughed despite herself. "That's one way to put it."
Camille stood and walked over. "Lucien told me what happened. He's a mess, by the way. Pretending he's in control, but I saw him threaten the toaster this morning because his bagel got stuck."
Elena giggled. "Sounds about right."
The two women sat together on the sofa, and for the first time, Elena felt something warm unfold in her chest—acceptance.
"You really shook him up, you know," Camille said more seriously now. "He's not used to... caring like this."
"I'm not used to being cared for," Elena replied.
"Well," Camille said, nudging her. "Maybe you two misfits were made for each other."
By the time Lucien returned that evening, Elena was in the kitchen, helping the chef arrange the dessert tray. She wore an apron over her casual dress, and her hair was tied in a soft braid down her back.
For a moment, Lucien just stood there, watching her.
She looked peaceful.
Whole.
And despite everything, undeniably beautiful.
When she noticed him, she offered a smile. "Back from destroying the world?"
He chuckled, stepping into the room. "Just the part of it that threatens you."
"You hungry?"
"I'd rather eat with you."
They carried the dessert to the terrace, where a quiet dinner was waiting for them. Over lemon tarts and chamomile tea, Elena looked at him and asked something unexpected.
"Tell me something real."
Lucien blinked. "What do you mean?"
"Something you haven't told anyone else. Something that matters to you."
He leaned back, eyes scanning the stars above.
"I had a brother," he said after a moment. "Older. His name was Marcus."
Elena sat up straighter. "You never talk about him."
"I don't talk about a lot of things."
He exhaled slowly. "Marcus was supposed to take over the company. He was the golden child. Smart. Brave. Charming. Everyone loved him."
"What happened?"
Lucien's jaw tightened. "He died in a car crash five years ago. A drunk driver ran a red light. Killed him instantly."
Elena reached for his hand.
"I'm so sorry."
"I blamed myself," Lucien continued. "I was supposed to meet him that night. But I canceled last minute to go to a party. If I hadn't, maybe things would've been different."
"You can't carry that."
"I do."
She squeezed his hand. "You've been carrying guilt for so long, Lucien. It's okay to let it go."
He looked at her, really looked at her, and for the first time, Elena saw the cracks behind his perfect exterior—the grief, the loneliness, the pressure.
"You're the first person I've told that to in years."
"And I'll keep it safe," she whispered.
Later that night, as Elena lay in bed beside Lucien, she found herself staring at the ceiling, thoughts tangled.
She was falling.
It wasn't sudden. It wasn't dramatic. It was quiet, steady, like water carving stone.
She turned to face him. He was already looking at her.
"Lucien?"
"Yes?"
"If I asked you to stop this marriage… would you?"
He went still.
"Is that what you want?" he asked, voice careful.
"No," she said softly. "I just wanted to know if you'd let me go if I did."
He studied her, then shook his head.
"I wouldn't let you go, Elena. I'd fight for you. But I wouldn't cage you either."
Tears prickled at her eyes.
Because for the first time in her life… someone wasn't trying to own her.
They were trying to love her.