LOGINElara's POV,
"No." His voice is cold. "You'll sign because you have no choice. You're going to die, Solis."
I laugh, and it's loud, cracked, and ugly. "How cute."
His voice drops. "You will die, once my enemies find out... and our son becomes a bargaining chip."
My blood turns cold. "They won't'..." I whisper because I know they won't. I've been hiding longer than he'd ever imagined.
"My mother will raise him. My enemies will want him. My world-" He stops short.
He doesn't want me to know,,except I already do. His world will devour Asher alive.
"You're the only reason he's still just a child," he finishes quietly.
Silence crashes down as the truth hits me like a blade between the ribs.
I've been cornered again, just like the Virelli mansion.
I scream. I curse. I kick until my head spins and my vision blurs from being upside down too long. He watches without stopping me.
When I finally go still, trembling and breathless, I twist upward with the last of my strength and grab his collar.
"Add a clause," I snarl. "I'm his legal guardian. I continue school. And no bodyguard bullshit."
His hand closes around mine, and he smiles, cruelly.
"A done deal, Solis."
And just like that, I sign my soul to the devil.
~ ~
The first person I meet in the Kòrvac household is Isolde.
She looks at me like I'm something she stepped on by accident. Her eyes rake over me, slow, dismissive, and cruel, and she doesn't even bother hiding it.
No greeting. No courtesy. Just open contempt.
But I don't even care.
For the past three long weeks since I signed that contract and agreed to co-parent with Lucien, I've stopped caring about a lot of things.
I waited a week before telling my friends. I tell them my boss took an interest in me, and that it turned into an engagement. I smile and pretend I'm happy. Carla even blesses us with tears in her eyes, and guilt pricks at me, but I bury it.
Lies are easier than truth. Lies keep people alive.
I move with Asher into the Kòrvac mansion. It's massive and beautiful.
And I'm a ghost in it.
Asher, of course, is thrilled. He clings to Lucien like he's a god. He laughs more, smiles wider, and spends every waking moment with his father.
I tell myself I'm happy for him, but the bitterness still settles in my chest like rot.
I hate Lucien with a passion I don't bother hiding. And Lucien barely acknowledges my existence. We share a house, a child, a contract... and nothing else.
One afternoon, I sit alone in my room, staring at my open laptop.
I can't even remember the last time I did something reckless. Something me. I feel boxed in, watched and trapped.
That's when my screen flickers.
A breach attempt.
Someone is trying to break into my firewall.
I blink once, then scoff.
Amateur.
Probably someone Lucien hired to keep tabs on me. I shut it down in seconds, sealing every door. But when I scan deeper, my smile fades.
Too late.
The virus already chewed off a sliver of information.
Annoyed now, I trace the signal. It doesn't lead outside the mansion. It leads inside.
I follow the trail down the hall, past rooms I've learned to avoid, until I stop at an open door.
Isolde.
She's hunched over a computer, fingers flying, jaw clenched. She slams her palm against the desk in frustration.
"After hours," she mutters, "she still manages to block me out?"
I lean against the doorframe, arms crossed.
Ah, so it's you, you little bitch.
And just like that, something sharp and alive curls inside my chest.
Finally. I grin. A little fun.
I step into the room just as Isolde slams her hand on the desk, frustration radiating off her in waves. The screen in front of her is frozen. How sweet, it's my work.
I smile.
"Careful," I say lightly. "If you hit it any harder, it might actually cooperate out of pity."
She whirls around and our eyes lock.
Something shifts in her expression. It's not fear, but recognition. The kind people get when they realize they've underestimated the wrong person.
"You're good," she says slowly.
"I know."
I push myself off the doorframe and walk in like I own the room.
"So you tried to crawl into my system," I continue. "You're clever, but sloppy. You left fingerprints everywhere."
Her jaw tightens. "At least, I broke into your firewall."
"No," I correct. "I let you hit it."
Silence.
That's when I turn to leave. I've made my point and said enough.
"Elara."
I pause.
"I know who you are," Isolde says. "You're a Virelli."
The word lands like a slap. Slowly, I turn back.
I step toward her in one smooth movement. "Say that again."
"I won't," she says lightly. "But I could say it to Lucien."
The thought flashes through me. Quick, violent, terrifyingly easy.
Snap her neck. Push her down the stairs. Make it look like an accident.
My fingers twitch, but then... I stop.
I've been running my whole life. Hiding. Surviving.
I'm tired of being scared.
I cross the room and sit down heavily on the chair opposite her.
"You want the truth?" I ask flatly. "Then listen."
"I was born a mistake," I say flatly. "A maid's child. Illegitimate. Untouchable, but never protected."
I swallow. "They beat me. Starved me. Used me."
She doesn't interrupt but sits.
"I slept with your brother without knowing who he was. I ran. I survived. I built a life from scraps. Everything I have... I earned it."
When I'm done, my throat burns and I stand.
"Believe me," I say. "Or don't. That's your choice."
I turn to leave, and her hand grabs my wrist.
"I was wrong," Isolde says quietly. "I thought you were a gold digger. Someone trying to trap my brother for his money."
I let out a humorless laugh. "If I wanted his money, I'd have emptied his accounts and disappeared."
"I won't tell anyone," she says. "I swear."
I study her face.
"Promise," I say. "And in return, I'll teach you things your brother's security team would cry over."
Her eyes light up.
"Deal."
I walk out without looking back. In the hallway, I stop and lift my gaze to the high ceiling.
I have leverage, an ally.
A stronghold inside the Kòrvac household.
I smile to myself.
"I won't back down easily," I whisper. "Lucien Kòrvac."
~ ~
Even with Isolde on my side, I still want to leave, because the mansion suffocates me.
I try everything.
Wigs, glasses, borrowed clothes from the maids. Fake grocery runs. Doctor appointments that don't exist. Even charity visits Lucien's name sponsors...ironic, really. I always lied to Asher that we were going out to have fun or a short trip. But every time, they find us.
I know they do because I always see them. It's a car appearing at the end of the street or a familiar face in a crowd. A quiet reminder that I am never alone.
Lucien's men are good.
Too good.
It makes my skin crawl.
I hate the way my world has shrunk to corridors and cameras. I hate the way my phone always has a signal, the way my car always starts, the way the gates open only when I'm allowed.
Isolde helps where she can. She reroutes cameras for minutes at a time. Delays reports and deletes small flags. But even she can't blind the whole house.
"It's like you're fighting a hydra," she told me once. "Cut one head, three more watch you."
That doesn't stop me from trying.
Because staying feels like surrender and because every time I see Asher laughing in Lucien's arms, a part of me aches with guilt and another part burns with fear.
What if he grows up thinking cages like this are normal?
What if he learns that love looks like control?
I won't let that happen.
So I plan again.
A smaller bag this time, just essentials, passports, and cash,, and I have a route I've tested twice. An exit window measured down to the second.
This time, I almost made it.
Almost.
It's the middle of the night, and that's when Lucien catches me leaving the front door. I'm dragging Asher's suitcase with him strolling sleepily behind me (I'd told him I was taking him to a surprise party), which I was...all the way in Canada,, and I'm certain they wouldn't catch me because I'd blocked the CCTV cameras from recording. Until...
"Where the fuck do you think you're going?"
Third Person’s POV, The professor’s office smells of old books and cheap disinfectant. Celene sits on the edge of the chair, scrunching up her nose and Seraphina crosses her legs with her smile sharpened to something decorative and dangerous.The professor clears his throat as he enters and Seraphina turns slowly to acknowledge him. Celene doesn’t. The professor frowns, wondering who these ladies are. “You said this was…” He sits opposite them. “Urgent.” “It is,” Celene replies smoothly, her voice clipped. She doesn’t smile and the Professor’s spine shivers. “We are concerned about a particular student.”Seraphina leans forward, resting an elbow on her knee, chin propped on her fingers. “Very concerned,” She adds sweetly. “She has a habit of…how do I put this? Taking things that do not belong to her.”The professor frowns. “If this is about academic misconnduct, I’m the wrong person to meet.”Celene raises a hand. “You are exactly the person I want to meet.”She straightens her bac
Elara’s POV,Lucien walks in to silence.Water drips from Celene’s sleeve onto the marble floor. Seraphina stands frozen, soaked, mascara carving black rivers down her cheeks. I’m still holding myself perfectly upright, and my pulse is steady like I didn’t just redraw the power map of this house.Lucien stops at the threshold. He takes it all in in one sweep, and his gaze lands on me first. Looking up like he knew I was there all along. He groans, and I smile. “Mi rey!” I call out, now already used to it. Mi Rey is almost mocking. An inside joke. He’s my king in name. He gives me a sweet smile, and I continue. “You didn’t tell me your mother was visiting.”I pass Celene, bumping into her shoulder, and go downstairs, never breaking eye contact with him.“A total slip on my part,” I say, as I go to hold his arm. It hit me that that has also become a habit for me. Holding his arm. “But I may have given her the wrong welcome gift.”I whisper, and he bends to do the same. “Cara, did you p
Elara’s POV, I’m on the upper balcony when they arrive.I hear the heels clicking on marble and smell the perfume drifting upward. Their voices are so loud. I take a sip of my champagne, and sneer. Seraphina.And Lucien’s mother. I know she was going to arrive that morning because I’d heard the servants talking. It irks me that Lucien didn’t deem it fit to inform me. Speaking of things irking me, Lucen and I haven’t spoken for more than a while. It irritates me almost as much as noticing even does. I can’t help it. The rooms are quieter when he’s not there. Recently, I’ve found myself looking in any room I enter for him.I lean against the balustrade, laptop forgotten beside me, and look down like the queen I am. The mistress of this mansion. Celene Kòrvac enters first.She doesn’t look up immediately; she clearly never does. Women like her expect the world to tilt its head for them, not the other way around. Seraphina follows, dressed in something yellow and expensive, already wea
Lucien’s POV, It’s been three days since Solis brought in a random lady and declared her Asher’s nanny. I hate to admit it, but Lucy was a perfect choice for Asher. Asher has never really had any problem with the elderly, but I know firsthand how difficult it is to impress Asher. For four days, Asher couldn’t look me in the eye. He ran in the opposite direction anytime he saw me. I remember I had to buy him a lot of gifts and promise him to take care of his mother before he could comfortably call me his father. Speaking of, Elara still hadn’t told her friends that I am Asher’s real father. Sometimes, I wonder what that woman is thinking. My train of thoughts is interrupted by my phone ringing. My mother. I inhale and swipe to pick up, but stop myself. I feel like I’m forgetting something today. My mother was, of course, furious when she heard I had a bride already. Especially a bride who had no important social standing, and she demanded to see Solis. I think it’s been over a wee
Elara’s POV,When they leave, Lucy speaks up from beside me. “Such a cute couple. I never thought I’d see the day.”I squawk, actually squawk, in surprise before clearing my throat. I face her amused self and smile.“What do you mean, you never thought you’d see the day?” I ask and lead her towards my room. “Oh, umm…” She hesitates. “Oh, why bother? You’re his wife already; surely you must know.”We take a turn. “Know what?”“Ah, it’s nothing.” She waves her hand. “Really.”I open the room door and walk in. “Lucy, you are going to be taking care of our son.” I pause and turn to face her. “I’ll appreciate real honesty.”“You’re speaking of honesty?” She scoffs, and I raise a brow. Interesting. She still has a backbone, thank goodness.“Whatever do you mean?” I feign innocence, shrugging, and she frowns, looking around.“I don’t know any Noemi.” She whispers. “Why did you tell your husband that?”I pour a cup of brandy for myself and take a sip. “Ah, would you have preferred me tellin
Elara’s POV, “Elara!” She stumbles before catching herself. “Is that you, Elara?”“Yes, Lucy.” I choke back a sob. “It’s me.”~ ~ A DAY BEFORE“Lucy…”My voice falters as I read further. Lucy comes back to me the way unfinished things always do. Inevitably.I had found her name buried in old staff records while tracing a different thread, one of many small cruelties the Virelli household dressed up as discipline. I remember everything.I remember her hands first. Always warm and steady. The way she slipped extra bread onto my plate without the others knowing. The way she spoke to me was like a person, not an inconvenience or a mistake. In a mansion built on power, Lucy had been gentle. I remember the night I was locked in the shack again for “burning Ayra’s uniform”. Lucy had lit a candle and snuck in to stay with me. I remember the stories she told me. How she made me laugh. How I cried on her shoulder. How I confided in her that I hated my life. I remember how I saw her as my mo
Elara’s POV,“That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard!” I exclaim to him, but he just ignores me, still writing whatever shit he was writing on his desk. “Tell Asher you can’t go.”“And why should I? I can go.” He says, without still looking at me. Frustrated, I slam my hands on his desk,
Lucien’s POV,FIVE YEARS AGO- - - - -In the morning, I sit at the head of the table, the marriage contract laid out in front of me like a corpse dressed for burial. The Virelli family owes mine a mountain of debt, and my father had agreed with the patriarch. Their daughter belongs to us, and the V
Elara’s POV, “I’m Seraphina, Lucien’s wife.” She beams and my brain falters. It’s too early for this, I think and manuever past her towards the stairs. Lucien’s wife? “You must be Elara.” She continues. “I heard about you from the kitchen maids. The gold-digger who’s trapped Lucien with a baby.”
Elara's POV, CRASH!! I throw another vase on the wall and continue pacing around. It's been two hours, thirty-six minutes, forty seconds since they'd locked me in here. I bit into my fingernails and looked out the window. Trying to break the glass was futile. Suddenly, I started to hyperventilate







