Elena stirred before the sun had risen, awakened not by nightmares or panic, but by the strange peace that had settled over her since the night before. Her eyes fluttered open to find Lucien still asleep beside her, one arm draped loosely around her waist, his chest rising and falling steadily.
In sleep, he looked younger—unguarded. The fierce CEO mask had fallen away, revealing a man who'd once known how to love freely, before grief and responsibility had hardened his heart.
For a long moment, she allowed herself to simply observe him. Trace the lines of his jaw. The faint shadow of stubble along his cheek. The way his hand instinctively reached for her even in sleep.
What are we becoming? she wondered.
But she didn't dare answer. Not yet.
She slipped out of bed carefully, not wanting to wake him, and padded barefoot into the hallway. The estate was still and quiet, the early morning chill seeping through the high glass windows.
Downstairs, the staff had only just begun to stir, and the scent of fresh coffee was drifting from the kitchen. Elena stepped outside into the garden, where the roses were still beaded with dew. She needed space—air. And clarity.
Last night had changed something. Lucien had opened a door to his soul, and she had stepped through willingly. But with every step closer, she felt the weight of her own secrets tugging at her heels.
There were things she hadn't told him. Things she wasn't sure he'd forgive.
And somewhere, deep in the shadows, Vincent was still out there.
Still watching.
Still waiting.
Lucien found her in the garden an hour later, her arms wrapped around herself despite the shawl she wore.
"You're up early," he said gently, stepping beside her.
She gave him a faint smile. "Couldn't sleep."
"Thinking?"
She nodded. "About us. About... everything."
He took her hand in his, rubbing warmth into her cold fingers. "You don't have to overthink it, Elena. We'll take this one step at a time."
"I'm not used to things going right," she admitted. "Every time something feels good, it falls apart."
Lucien's jaw tightened slightly. "I won't let that happen."
"Can you really promise that?" she whispered.
He turned to face her fully. "No. But I can promise this—I'll fight for you. I'll protect you. And I'll never walk away."
It wasn't a fairytale promise. It was better—honest, raw, and real.
For Elena, it was enough.
Later that day, the calm was shattered by a knock at the front door.
Lucien opened it himself, frowning when he saw Camille standing on the steps, her expression pale and nervous.
"What's wrong?" he asked instantly.
Camille stepped inside, holding out her phone. "You need to see this."
Lucien took the phone and hit play on the video.
It was grainy footage—clearly shot from a distance—but it was unmistakable. Vincent. Meeting with a man in a dark alley. Money exchanged. Documents handed over. And the final frame froze on a photo that made Lucien's blood run cold.
It was Elena. A candid shot, taken just two days ago. She was stepping out of the estate's back gate, clearly unaware of the lens watching her.
"Where did you get this?" Lucien asked, voice sharp.
"A friend of mine works in surveillance," Camille said. "He flagged Vincent's activity. That man he met? He's ex-special forces. Now he's on someone's payroll as... freelance."
Lucien didn't need the word spelled out.
"Is he targeting Elena?"
Camille hesitated. "We don't know yet. But it's not just about her anymore. Vincent's digging into the Blake Corporation too."
Lucien's eyes narrowed. "Then he's planning something big."
Elena entered the room just as Lucien ended the video, her eyes shifting between him and Camille.
"What's going on?"
Lucien walked toward her, voice low and careful. "We need to talk."
They gathered in the private study, the curtains drawn. Lucien explained everything—the video, Vincent's connection to the ex-special forces operative, the photos of her being followed.
Elena sat very still as the information sank in.
"So he's not finished," she said quietly.
"No," Lucien replied. "And I don't think he'll stop until he's either destroyed me—or taken you back."
A chill ran down her spine.
"I won't let him near you," Lucien continued. "But this means we need to change our strategy. I'll have Darius put together a counter-intelligence plan. We'll trace his funding, find his weaknesses."
"You're planning to go to war," Elena said.
"I already am."
But Elena, despite the fear coiling in her stomach, looked at Lucien and said something unexpected.
"Then let me help."
He blinked. "What?"
"I know how he thinks. I lived under his roof. I know his patterns. His fears. His weaknesses."
Lucien frowned. "You don't need to be involved in this."
"But I am involved, Lucien. He's coming after me. You said you'd fight for me. Let me fight for myself, too."
There was a long pause before he finally nodded.
"Alright. We do this together."
Over the next few days, the estate transformed into something of a command center.
Darius set up a secure communication hub in one of the unused rooms, and Camille, surprisingly adept at research and data gathering, joined the effort.
Elena provided a profile on Vincent—his triggers, his obsessions, his tactics. She recalled the times he had disappeared for hours without explanation, the encrypted phone calls he'd taken late at night, the burner phones he kept locked in a drawer.
And with each new thread they unraveled, the clearer it became: Vincent wasn't just after Elena or Lucien.
He wanted everything.
Power. Control. Revenge.
And he would stop at nothing.
That evening, Lucien pulled Elena aside as the sun dipped below the horizon.
"You've been incredible," he said, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. "I don't say it enough, but... I see what you're doing. What it's costing you."
"I'm tired," she admitted. "But I'm not afraid. Not anymore."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm not alone this time."
He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly.
She buried her face into his chest and whispered, "Promise me something."
"Anything."
"When this ends... when he's finally gone... can we start over? Not just as husband and wife. But as us?"
Lucien looked down at her, his voice rough with emotion.
"I don't want to start over, Elena. I want to keep going. With you."
And in that embrace, amid the looming threat of danger, something beautiful bloomed—hope.