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chapter 410

Auteur: Deedson
last update Date de publication: 2026-11-09 00:11:56

POV: Hazel

"I am afraid, Hazel. Not of Paris, and not of the letters. I am afraid that I will become a man who loves his child from the other side of a closed door."

Julian said it before I had said a single word. He was standing in the middle of our living room at ten that night, with his hands hanging at his sides and his tie in his pocket. The lamps were low. A fine rain was ticking on the glass. He looked like a man who had practised a speech in the lift and forgotten every line.

I stood in
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  • RECLAIMING MY LIFE FROM THE UNTOUCHABLE CEO    chapter 410

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    POV: Hazel"I will say this once, and I will not soften it. Nobody on my committee knew Julian's name when they voted. They knew yours. They voted without one dissent, and one of them wept."Élodie Fontaine said it in a cold rehearsal hall in a Paris suburb, with her scarf wound twice around her neck and her breath showing in the air. I had flown in that morning, alone, with a single bag and a heart that would not stay still. Julian had driven me to the airport. He had kissed my forehead, and stepped back, and let me go without a single instruction. I had never been so proud of anyone."Madame, I came to ask you something.""Élodie." She raised one brow. "You came to ask whether you earned it.""How did you know?""Because you have your father's mouth." She laughed at my face. "Not your father's. Every proud girl's father's. The mouth that says, I will refuse the gift, in case it is a debt."I sat down on the edge of a rehearsal bench. All around us, the great hall echoed with old woo

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  • RECLAIMING MY LIFE FROM THE UNTOUCHABLE CEO    chapter 405

    POV: Hazel"Sit down before you fall down, girl. I have seen that face on soldiers. It means you have walked a long way carrying something you were told was light."Walter Pryce opened his front door at ten past midnight in a brown cardigan and one slipper. He had not asked what I was doing there. He had simply looked at me, stepped back, and pointed at the kitchen.I had not planned to come. I had left the studio at eleven, tired of the cold mirrors, and my feet had carried me across the river to a narrow house with a green door and a small cracked step. It was the house Nora had grown up in. It smelled of toast, boiled tea, and old books."I am sorry to wake you, Mr. Pryce.""Walter. And I was not asleep. At my age, sleep is a rumour." He filled the kettle and set it on the stove with a clank. "Nora is at the dormitory, in case you were hoping. It is only you and me, and a very old biscuit tin.""I did not come for Nora.""I know." He put a mug in front of me. The tea was the colour

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