Chapter Eleven: Shattered Reflection

Ariella barely got the words out before the door creaked open behind her.

She spun around—and there he was.

Lucien.

His tall figure filled the doorway, soaked from the rain. Wet strands of hair clung to his forehead, and his sharp jaw twitched with tension as he stepped inside, closing the door with a quiet, final click.

His eyes met hers—dark, unreadable—and for a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then he said lowly, “I was going to tell you.”

Ariella’s heart pounded in her ears. “Tell me what? That you’ve been hiding the truth? That this entire marriage is a lie?”

Lucien stepped further into the room, water dripping from his coat onto the floor, but he didn’t seem to care. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

Her chest rose and fell, her breathing uneven. “Then what was it supposed to be, Lucien? Me marrying my father’s killer? Falling in love with you, only to find out you’ve been protecting the woman who watched him die?”

Lucien flinched. “It’s not that simple.”

Ariella scoffed. “It never is, is it?”

He exhaled sharply and ran a hand through his wet hair. “I did this to protect you.”

“From what?” she snapped. “From the truth?”

His voice lowered. “From Elise.”

That name. That name again.

Her blood ran cold. “What does Elise have to do with my father’s death?”

Lucien’s expression darkened. “More than you think. She’s not just the woman in this house. She’s the reason your life was shattered.”

Ariella took a shaky step back, the weight of it all threatening to crush her.

“No,” she whispered. “You’re just trying to shift the blame.”

Lucien didn’t respond. He walked toward the window, the lightning casting sharp shadows across his face. For a moment, he looked like a stranger.

“She’s not who you think she is,” he said softly. “And your father… he wasn’t a hero.”

Ariella shook her head, unwilling to let go of the version of her father she had clung to for so long. “You’re lying. Just like you’ve always lied.”

Lucien turned, his eyes fierce. “Do you think I enjoy carrying this? Do you think I want to be the one to break the truth to you?”

“Then don’t!” she screamed, her voice cracking. “Just leave me in the dark where I was safe.”

Silence fell.

Then—heels clicked on marble.

Ariella’s breath caught as she slowly turned.

Elise stood in the doorway now, her presence like poison in the air—elegant, deadly, calm.

“If you want answers,” Elise said, voice smooth as silk, “then let’s begin, shall we?”

Lucien tensed, stepping forward. “Elise—don’t.”

She smiled, eyes never leaving Ariella. “She deserves the truth, doesn’t she?”

Ariella’s legs felt weak. Her voice came out broken. “Tell me… were you there? That night?”

Elise nodded once, a cruel gleam in her eye. “Yes, Ariella. I was there the night your father died.”

Ariella’s breath hitched. The room spun for a second, and she had to grip the edge of the console table just to keep herself upright.

“You… you were there?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Elise took a slow step forward. “Not just there. I was in the room.”

Lucien moved between them in an instant, as though sensing something volatile unraveling. “That’s enough, Elise.”

But Elise only smiled, cool and undeterred. “Let her hear it. She deserves that much, doesn’t she?”

Ariella’s heart was pounding so loudly it echoed in her ears. She looked between them — the man she’d married, who now seemed like a stranger, and the woman who’d always hovered in the background, cold and perfect and untouchable. Until now.

“You watched him die?” Ariella asked, her voice trembling. “Did you kill him?”

The silence that followed felt like the air had been sucked out of the room.

Elise tilted her head, her gaze sharp. “Do you really want the truth?”

“I’ve been drowning in lies,” Ariella snapped. “So yes. I do.”

Elise’s smile faded. “No. I didn’t kill him. But I didn’t stop it either.”

Ariella’s knees buckled slightly. “Why?”

Elise exhaled. “Because your father wasn’t the man you thought he was. He was cruel, Ariella. Vicious. Behind closed doors, he did things you were never meant to see.”

“Don’t you dare,” Ariella said, her voice breaking. “Don’t twist his memory just to clean your hands.”

Lucien placed a hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged him off.

“No,” she said. “Don’t touch me. You knew about all of this. You married me knowing what they did.”

“I married you because I was trying to protect you from what would happen if you found out,”

Ariella’s lip trembled. “Too late.”

She turned back to Elise, her fists clenched. “You lived in his house. Ate his food. Smiled in his face. And now you want me to believe you’re some noble victim?”

Elise’s expression darkened, her mask of elegance cracking. “He deserved what he got.”

Ariella froze. “So you did want him dead.”

Elise said nothing.

The silence was confirmation enough.

Lucien stepped between them again. “This isn’t how it should’ve come out.”

“But it did,” Ariella said, tears welling in her eyes. “And now I can’t unhear it.”

Elise folded her arms. “You think I enjoyed keeping this secret? You think it didn’t haunt me?”

Ariella's voice broke. “You slapped me that night—”

“Yes,” Elise cut in, eyes flashing. “Because you were digging in places that would only destroy you. I was trying to stop you. But you just kept pushing.”

Ariella recoiled, the memory of the masked figure crashing back into her mind like a tidal wave. She hadn’t imagined it. She hadn’t overreacted.

It was Elise. It had always been her.

“You’re a monster,” Ariella whispered. “You’re worse than he ever was.”

Lucien reached for her again. “Ariella, please…”

But she backed away from them both, heart shattered, tears spilling freely now.

“All of you lied to me,” she choked. “I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

And with that, she turned and ran — out the door, down the hallway, her sobs echoing through the mansion like a wounded ghost fleeing a haunted home.

Behind her, Elise stood still, lips pressed tight.

And Lucien… Lucien looked like he had just lost the one thing he was trying to protect.

Forever.