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CHAPTER EIGHT — THE LOVELY CHAT
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2026-02-12 15:42:17Aria's POV.
Helena circled me slowly, like a jeweler examining a stone for flaws. I felt her gaze catalog every detail, my casual clothes, my minimal makeup, my simple ponytail.
"Hmm," she said finally, and the sound conveyed volumes of disapproval.
"Mother," Lucien's voice held a warning edge. "Aria came here to bring me lunch, not to be inspected like…"
"Like the woman who married my son and heir?" Helena interrupted smoothly. "The future of the Blackwood name? I think a simple inspection is more than warranted, don't you?"
She stopped in front of me, so close I could smell her expensive perfume, something French and intimidating.
"How old are you, Aria?"
"Twenty-four, Mrs. Blackwood."
"And your family background?"
I hesitated, knowing this was a test. "Middle class. My parents own a small bookstore in Connecticut."
"A bookstore." Helena's lips curved in something that wasn't quite a smile. "How... quaint." She glanced at Lucien. "I assume there's no family money? No connections? No social standing?"
"Mother, that's enough," Lucien said, his voice hardening.
"It's a simple question." Helena turned back to me. "Well?"
"No, ma'am," I said quietly. "No family money or connections. Just a small business and a lot of love."
"Love." Helena repeated the word like it was foreign. "How wonderfully naive." She walked to the window, her back to us, staring out at the city below. "Lucien, I need to speak with your wife. Privately."
Every muscle in Lucien's body tensed. "That's not necessary…"
"It wasn't a request." Helena turned, her grey eyes glacial. "Surely you have work to attend to? I promise not to keep her long."
The air crackled with unspoken tension. I could see the war playing out on Lucien's face, the desire to protect me versus the deeply ingrained habit of obeying his mother.
"It's okay," I said softly, touching his arm. "I can handle a conversation."
Lucien looked down at me, his eyes searching mine. "You don't have to…"
"I know." I squeezed his arm gently. "But I want to. She's your mother. We should get to know each other."
Something painful flashed across his face. He knew this wasn't going to be a friendly chat. But he also couldn't refuse without making the situation worse.
"I'll be right outside," he said finally, his voice low. "If you need anything…"
"She'll be fine, Lucien." Helena's tone was dismissive. "I'm not going to eat her."
Lucien's jaw clenched, but he nodded. As he passed his mother, I saw her reach out and touch his arm briefly, the gesture almost affectionate, but there was something weird about it that made me uncomfortable.
The door closed behind him with a soft click.
And suddenly, I was alone with Helena Blackwood.
The temperature in the room seemed to drop another ten degrees.
Helena walked to Lucien's desk and perched on the edge with elegant precision, crossing her legs at the ankle. Every movement was calculated, controlled and perfect.
"Sit," she commanded, gesturing to one of the chairs facing the desk.
I sat, keeping my spine straight, my hands folded in my lap.
Helena studied me for a long moment, her expression unreadable. When she finally spoke, her voice was conversational, almost pleasant which somehow made it more terrifying.
"Tell me, Aria. What do you think your purpose is in this marriage?"
The question caught me off guard. "My... purpose?"
"Yes. Your function. Your role." She tilted her head slightly. "Surely you've thought about it? A girl from nowhere, with no money, no connections, no particular skills or accomplishments, married to one of the most eligible men in the country." Her smile was as sharp as a blade. "What exactly do you bring to this union?"
I felt my cheeks flush. "I love him."
"Love." Helena's laugh was soft and utterly devoid of warmth. "How refreshingly adolescent. Let me educate you about something, my dear. Love is a fairy tale we tell ourselves to make the transaction of marriage more palatable. The reality is far more practical."
She stood and walked to the window again, her silhouette sharp against the bright sky.
"Marriage, real marriage in families like ours, serves two purposes. Reproduction and strategic alliance." She glanced back at me over her shoulder. "You bring no strategic value to the Blackwood name. No business connections, no political influence, no social standing. Which leaves only one possible use for you."
My stomach dropped as I understood where this was going.
"You want me to have a baby," I said quietly.
"An heir," Helena corrected, turning to face me fully. "Specifically, a son. The Blackwood line cannot end with Lucien. He needs a proper heir to continue the family legacy."
"And if we're not ready for children yet?"
Helena's eyes narrowed. "Ready? You've been married for five months, girl. How much more ready do you need to be?" She moved closer, and I forced myself not to shrink back. "Or perhaps the real issue is that you have no intention of fulfilling even this basic expectation?"
"That's no…"
"Isn't it?" Her voice cut through my protest like ice. "From what I understand, you've spent these past months making Lucien's life miserable. Attempting to escape, refusing to participate in your role as his wife, acting like a prisoner rather than a partner." She leaned forward slightly, her gaze boring into me. "Do you have any idea what you're doing to him? What this family?"
I felt tears prick my eyes but refused to let them fall. "I'm trying to do better."
"Trying." Helena straightened. "Words are cheap, Aria. What I need from you are results."
"What do you want from me?" My voice came out steadier than I felt.
Helena walked to her purse, which Emma must have brought in, and pulled out a sleek folder. She placed it on the desk between us.
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Aria's POVThe library was too cold. The air felt thin and clinical, like everything else in the high-tech prison Lucien called a home. I stood against the mahogany shelves, my fingers tightening around the small wooden box. Inside, the silver compasses clinked. The sound was soft, but in the dead silence, it sounded like a warning.I turned the bent compass over and I felt the tiny, jagged engraving on the back.J & A.The letters were old and faded. A was for Aria. That was me. But the J was like a hole in my life. My mind searched for a name, a face, or a voice but I found nothing. The amnesia was a solid wall, cold and unyielding.Lucien had told me I was alone. When I woke up in that hospital bed, he was the only thing I had. He told me my parents were dead. He said I had no siblings. He said he was the only anchor I had left in a dangerous world.Liar.The thought didn't come from my brain. It came from my
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