The car ride was silent. Uncomfortably so, she wanted to open the door and run as fast as she could, but she knew well, that was not an option, not anymore, they had her within their clutches.
She sat stiffly in the backseat, soaked through, arms crossed tightly. The city passed in a blur outside the tinted windows, but she wasn't watching it.
Her mind was stuck on the envelope the bodyguard handed her—now sitting unopened in her lap, its black wax seal pressed with the family crest on it, she had a bad feeling that something was happening that she would not like, something that would determine her future
A perfect symbol of her family. Beautiful. Endless. Devouring itself from within.
"You are still loyal lapdogs, huh? Knowing nothing but to wag your tails when your masters call," she muttered, eyes flicking to the driver.
He didn't respond.
Of course not. They never did, but the bodyguard on the other hand, smirked at her attitude, though he did not say anything, just let her fume in silence, knowing she had no escape, not as long as he was there at least.
The moment the car turned through the wrought-iron gates of the estate, her stomach clenched. She had not seen this place in over two years, since the night she ran, since the night she chose love over anything her family could ever offer her, even over their wealth.
Stone walls looked like they clawed at the sky. Ivy choked the walls. Guards patrolled the grounds like it was a fortress, not a home. And maybe it never was a home. Just a prison with expensive furniture.
The car stopped. Two more guards appeared immediately, opening her door like she was royalty. Or a threat.
She didn't wait for anyone. She stepped out and walked toward the mansion with her head held high.
Inside, the warmth hit her like a lie.
Nothing had changed. The same polished floors. The same eerie silence. The same portraits of dead family leaders, staring down from the walls with judgment in their eyes.
A maid appeared, eyes downcast. "They are waiting in the study."
'Of course they were; why would they not?' She thought.
Meanwhile, inside the study, someone with sharp eyes glanced towards the door.
The study was dim, lit by a single amber lamp and the flickering fireplace. Her grandfather sat in his usual armchair, cane resting against his knee, a half-glass of something expensive in his hand.
"The prodigal disgrace returns," her grandfather said before she even reached the study.
Of course he didn't need to see her to know she was coming.
She pushed open the door without knocking, arms crossed, soaked coat still dripping.
"Don't start with your theatrical bullsh*t, Grandfather. I already have a headache as it is, I do not need you to add to it," she bit back, her tone as sharp as his.
Lucien Valemont, he looked exactly the same: razor-sharp in an ironed suit, white hair slicked back, silver cane resting beside him like a weapon. His eyes were as cold as ever—ice layered over fire.
"Language, child," he said, swirling the drink in his hand. "You embarrass yourself more than usual," he quipped.
"I am not a child, so do not speak to me like I am one," she said.
"Semantics," he replied, finally glancing up at her, with his eyes narrowed, she could feel judgement radiating off of him. "You carry our name. That's all that matters."
"I don't want anything to do with this place," she retorted.
"And yet," he said, swirling his drink, "you came."
"They dragged me or else I would not even be here," she snapped.
He smirked. "Good. You need to be reminded who you are."
She threw the envelope down onto the table between them. "I'm not staying. Whatever sick favor you dragged me back for, I'm not interested."
"Incorrect," he said, calmly sipping his drink. "You're already involved."
"I didn't agree to anything," she replied, her eyes burning with nothing but anger.
He set the glass down, folding his hands. "That's the funny thing about family. We don't wait for your permission."
She laughed, sharp and bitter. "Let me guess, you and that bastard father of mine, have already sold me off like a horse at auction?"
"Ah, do not flatter yourself, that is too much credit even for you, who ran off like some lovesick fool only to end up a widow, the family is in a fragile position. Old alliances are fading. Power is shifting. You've been a ghost, and ghosts are useless to us. But you? You still have value."
She stared at him in disbelief. She knew he was capable of many things, so was her father, but she never thought she would ever hear him stoop so low. "You really want to sell me off like a pawn?"
"No," he said calmly. "I am reclaiming you. Your marriage to that man was a mistake. One we tolerated out of pity. But now, it's time to correct it."
She laughed. A dry, dangerous sound. "You think I'll go along with this? After everything that has happened in the last two years?"
His eyes turned cold. "You don't have a choice."
"Yes, I do; this is my life; I have a choice; I will leave again," she added.
He leaned forward, eyes sharp as a blade. "And this time, you won't get far. The world is watching, child. You think your little stunt with that scar nobody was forgotten? You humiliated this family. Now you'll clean it up."
She stepped forward, fury bubbling under her skin. "If this is about Kael—"
"This isn't about the man you married," he cut in sharply. "It's about the man you will marry."
The words hit her like a slap.
"What? What did you just say to me?" She asked, her voice a mere whisper against the tension in the air.
He met her gaze, one that could freeze over hell if that was even possible. "You heard me, your future is sealed for the sake of this family's future generation."
His words made her entire body go rigid, her mind unable to process the words he was saying to her. She looked down at herself, still dressed in black, a widow; she had just lost the love of her life and here her family was talking about her life, disregarding her dead husband like he did not matter, like their love was nothing but a path walked and forgotten.