The moon hung low in the night sky, casting a silver glow over the Marchand mansion. Sophie sat quietly in her room, her mind restless. It had been days since Genevieve thinly veiled threat, but her resolve to escape remained unbroken. Tonight, however, her thoughts wandered elsewhere.
Mrs Madeline and her daughter Margaux informed Sophie that Lucien would be working late, likely poring over his laptop in the study. The image of him, alone and brooding, flashed in her mind. Despite her resentment for being trapped in his world, something stirred in her—a strange feeling she couldn't shake.
She decided to take him a cup of coffee, a small gesture she hoped would serve as a peace offering. Perhaps it was her way of navigating this tumultuous situation or simply an attempt to understand the man who held her captive.
Balancing the steaming cup on a tray, she made her way to his study. The mansion was eerily quiet, her footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. When she reached the study, the door was slightly ajar, and she hesitated before knocking softly.
"Come in," Lucien's deep voice called out.
Sophie pushed the door open and stepped inside. Lucien was standing by the window, his silhouette framed by the moonlight. His back was to her, his shoulders tense as he stared out into the night. He seemed lost in thought, the weight of his burdens palpable even from across the room.
"I brought you some coffee," Sophie said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Lucien turned slightly, acknowledging her presence with a nod. "Leave it on the desk," he said curtly, his tone neutral but distant.
She placed the cup on the edge of the desk, then hesitated. Her gaze shifted back to him, and suddenly, a wave of dizziness washed over her. Her surroundings blurred, and a vivid vision took hold.
She saw Lucien kneeling on the ground, his face contorted with grief. He was cradling a lifeless body, his hands trembling as he whispered words Sophie couldn't make out. Tears streamed down his face, his anguish raw and unfiltered.
The vision was so intense it left her breathless.
"Lucien," she murmured, her voice trembling.
He turned fully toward her now, frowning at the pale look on her face. "What is it?"
"I… I saw something," she said, clutching the edge of the desk for support. "I saw you crying… over someone. A woman."
Lucien's expression hardened, his defenses immediately rising. "What are you talking about?"
"I don't know how to explain it," Sophie said, her voice steadying. "But I get these… visions sometimes. It's like seeing pieces of someone's life. And just now, I saw you. You were grieving."
For a moment, Lucien said nothing. He studied her, his gaze sharp and assessing, as if trying to decide whether to dismiss her or believe her. Then, to her surprise, his shoulders sagged slightly, and his eyes softened.
"You're not wrong," he admitted, his voice quieter now. "I was grieving. Her name was Amélie."
Sophie didn't move, afraid that anything she said might break the fragile openness he was showing.
Lucien turned back to the window, his hands resting on the sill. "She was everything to me," he began, his voice carrying a weight that made Sophie's chest tighten. "We had plans—dreams of a future together. And then, in one night, it was all taken away."
He paused, his jaw tightening as he fought to keep his composure. "They told me it was an accident, that her car malfunctioned. But I knew better. Amélie was cautious, meticulous. She wouldn't have made a mistake like that. And yet, she ended up in that pond…"
Sophie's breath hitched. "You think someone caused it?"
Lucien let out a bitter laugh. "I know they did. My mother and sister. They wanted me to marry someone else—someone richer, more influential. Amélie didn't fit their plans, so they made sure she wouldn't stand in their way."
Sophie felt a chill run down her spine. The cruelty of his revelation was almost too much to bear.
"I couldn't prove it," Lucien continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "And even if I could, what then? Destroy my own family? Lose the only connections I have left? I've lived with that choice every day since she died."
He turned to Sophie then, his eyes meeting hers. They were filled with a mixture of pain and determination that made her heart ache.
"And now," he said, his voice steadier, "they think they can control me again. That they can decide my life for me. But they're wrong."
Sophie swallowed hard, unsure of what to say. She had despised Lucien for taking her from her life, but in this moment, she realized how a Lucien had also been trapped—by his family, his grief, and his thirst for revenge.
"I'm sorry," she said softly. "For everything you've been through."
Lucien looked at her for a long moment, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. Then he nodded, a small, almost imperceptible gesture of acknowledgment.
"Thank you," he said simply.
Sophie turned to leave, her mind racing with the weight of what she had just learned. But as she reached the door, she paused and looked back at him.
"I know it doesn't mean much," she said, "but I hope you find a way to heal."
Lucien didn't respond, his gaze returning to the window. Sophie left quietly, the echo of his pain following her as she walked back to her room.
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