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Chapter 68 — Where the Varnish Crumbles

Author: Déesse
last update Last Updated: 2025-09-02 00:10:46

Cassandra

I’m pacing.

The office is empty, but I can still hear the words. It’s over. He said it. He dared. He planted that phrase like a blade and walked away.

And me? I stayed here.

Boiling.

Swallowing down the anger. Swallowing down the humiliation.

The screens keep broadcasting the speech of that little bitch. Her voice infiltrates everywhere. Like a poison. Every word, every glance, every calculated silence makes me nauseous. She knows what she’s doing. She knows how to capture attention. She’s a player. A manipulator. And Alexandre… he fell for it.

I clench my fists.

No. He won’t fall. I won’t let him fall.

Not now, not like this.

He has the right to doubt. He has the right to be weak, even to crack. But he doesn’t have the right to betray me. Not after everything I’ve done for him. Not after all I’ve sacrificed.

He needs me.

I check my makeup one last time. Not a trace. Not a weakness. Everything is under control.

And I hear him, his footsteps, his presence.

He enters.

I don’t
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  • Remember me naked   Chapter 68 — Where the Varnish Crumbles

    CassandraI’m pacing.The office is empty, but I can still hear the words. It’s over. He said it. He dared. He planted that phrase like a blade and walked away.And me? I stayed here.Boiling.Swallowing down the anger. Swallowing down the humiliation.The screens keep broadcasting the speech of that little bitch. Her voice infiltrates everywhere. Like a poison. Every word, every glance, every calculated silence makes me nauseous. She knows what she’s doing. She knows how to capture attention. She’s a player. A manipulator. And Alexandre… he fell for it.I clench my fists.No. He won’t fall. I won’t let him fall.Not now, not like this.He has the right to doubt. He has the right to be weak, even to crack. But he doesn’t have the right to betray me. Not after everything I’ve done for him. Not after all I’ve sacrificed.He needs me.I check my makeup one last time. Not a trace. Not a weakness. Everything is under control.And I hear him, his footsteps, his presence.He enters.I don’t

  • Remember me naked   Chapter 67 — What We Wear on Our Skin

    LyraThe dress is white with defiance.I fasten it gently, with a slow, almost ceremonial gesture. My hands tremble slightly, but they tremble. Not from fear, but from clarity.— Are you sure you want to go? Lucas asks as he arrives behind me.I see him in the mirror. He is leaning against the doorframe, impeccably dressed, shirt slightly open. Calm. Too calm. It’s his way of masking his worry. He knows me. He can read between my silences, sense the storm even when I smile.— If I don’t go, they will win, I reply simply.— They are already rewriting the script.— Then I will give them a new chapter live.He sighs. Crosses the room. Approaches silently, then comes to place a bracelet on my wrist.— A gift. For courage.I lower my eyes. It’s discreet, brushed gold. A simple line. Solid.— Thank you.— And also... to remind you that you are not alone. Even if they try to make you believe otherwise.I look at him. He doesn’t say "I love you." Not tonight. It’s not that kind of moment. But

  • Remember me naked   Chapter 66 — Where the Armor Cracks

    AlexandreI look at the screen.And I feel the ground slip away.The blue light of the projector illuminates Lyra's face, frozen on pause, just before she closes her file. She stands tall. Alone. Radiant with controlled anger.I am in this room that is too white, too clean, too full of people who know nothing. Glances cross, avoid. Phones vibrate like panicked heartbeats. They talk about "collateral damage," "narrative to regain," "coordinated defense."But I remain there. Silent.Because I see only her: Lyra.Not the one they’ve turned into a target.Not the brilliant collaborator turned into a threat.The real one.The one I love.The one I let down.The door slams.Cassandre enters, like a gust of anger dressed in silk. Phone glued to her ear, aggressive heels, she spits orders to invisible interlocutors. Her voice is sharp, quick, without breath. She tries to maintain control, but she feels something slipping away.She hangs up. Throws the phone on the table.– We silence her, imm

  • Remember me naked   Chapter 65 — Where Silence Catches Fire

    LyraI return to my desk. I open Instagram. My DMs are flooded. Messages of support. Insults. Hideous edits with my blurred photo and vicious captions. People asking me "why I messed everything up," as if the collapse were mine alone.And then, I come across a post from Cassandre, that woman wants to drive me crazy. "There are things women must say when no one is listening. I am not a jealous woman. I am a fiancée. And I refuse to be trampled on with a smile. The facts will speak for themselves."The photo below: her hand on Alexandre's shoulder. And blurred behind, like a framing error... my silhouette.I put the phone down. My throat is tight, she used me, sacrificed me, threw me to the wolves.I could get up, return my badge, slam the door. I could leave Paris, disappear. Let silence do the rest.But no, something within me refuses.I do not want to be reduced to that. To a scandal, to a plot, a blurred silhouette.So I reopen my computer. I search. An archi

  • Remember me naked   Chapter 64 — Where We Fight to Stay Ourselves

    AlexandreI see her face again, the moment she saw us, Daniel and me, about to get into a fight.I especially see my own face. And I am ashamed.Not of what I did. But of what I let show, my possessiveness, my jealousy.Primitive instincts, unworthy of me, unworthy of the name I bear.I leave the bathroom. The suite is empty. Cassandre is gone.Her phone is no longer here, nor her bag or her heels. She didn't slam the door for nothing. She went to act.And I know her well enough to know she won't settle for silence.I quickly get dressed, dark suit, white shirt, loose tie.Not to save face. To feel human again. To feel like myself.But even my reflection in the mirror no longer obeys me.I pick up my phone. Thirty-two missed calls.Twelve from Adrien Béraud the journalist, four from my father. Two from the group's communication director.And one from Lyra. I stop.Her name burns me. Her voice that I can almost hear. Her fear, perhaps, through the silence of the voicemail she didn't le

  • Remember me naked   Chapter 63 — Where the Masks Burn

    CassandreThe shrill ringing of my phone pulls me from sleep like a slap.It’s still dark in the room, but the phone screen radiates like a nuclear alarm.I grunt, pull the blanket over my eyes, then, annoyed, sit up halfway to grab the phone.A flurry of notifications.Missed calls.Mentions.Group messages.Links. Screenshots.And that headline at the top of the homepage, framed in red like a terrorist alert:“ALEXANDRE LACROIX AND DANIEL ROZOV: A LOVERS' CLASH IN FRONT OF A PRIVATE RESTAURANT”“THE PERSONAL ASSISTANT WHO SHAKES BOTH DYNASTIES”I remain frozen. The words hit me one by one.I click.The video starts.Grainy, shaky frame, but the essence is there.The heart that explodes.Daniel and Alexandre, face to face.Quick gestures, lethal looks, and she! She! She!This girl, this… this silhouette I barely recognize, but who now occupies all the screens.Lyra, as venomous as a snake.The shadow that slipped between us, so quietly that no radar beeped.But who is now everywhere.

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