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Chapter Ten: Pieces of a Ghost
Date de publication:
2026-05-20 05:05:13Pieces of a Ghost
~Lucien’s POV~ The clock on the wall read 3:47 AM. Sleep was a distant fantasy tonight. I stood in the dimly lit private study, the only light coming from a single desk lamp and the glow of my laptop screen. A glass of whiskey sat untouched beside a stack of old documents and hidden archives I had pulled from my most secure files. The childish mask I had worn for so long was finally gone. Only the real me remained cold, calculating, and increasingly unsettled. Celine. Everything kept circling back to her. The slap at the wedding. The way she had endured Clara’s cruelty without breaking. The sharp, precise way she had analyzed the missing ships that morning like she had years of experience in shipping logistics. None of it fit the image of the quiet, useless Laurent daughter I had expected to marry and eventually discard. I picked up the glass and took a slow sip, the burn doing nothing to quiet the questions raging in my head. Why did the Laurents treat her like garbage? Public humiliation at the gala, forcing her into this marriage, discarding her so easily… it didn’t make sense. Even for them. Unless she wasn’t actually theirs. The thought had been growing like a shadow since the wedding. The way James and Catherine looked at her not with parental affection, but with cold calculation. The way Clara treated her with pure, unfiltered hatred. The way they had offered her up to me so easily, as if she were a pawn they were happy to sacrifice. I sat down at the desk and opened another file. My fingers moved across the keyboard with practiced speed. Old photographs. Public records. Adoption papers. Medical records. Anything I could access without raising alarms. Nothing concrete yet. But small inconsistencies were beginning to surface: dates that didn’t quite line up, medical records that felt too clean, gaps in her early childhood documentation that were suspiciously convenient. I leaned back in the chair, rubbing my jaw. If she wasn’t James Laurent’s biological daughter… then who the hell was she? And why had they gone through so much trouble to keep her? A soft sound from the hallway made me freeze. The study door creaked open slightly. Celine stood there in a thin silk robe, her long chestnut hair loose over her shoulders, emerald eyes wide with surprise at seeing me here. She looked… haunted. Beautiful and haunted. The cut on her arm from Clara’s push was still visible beneath the sleeve. “You’re awake,” she said quietly. “So are you.” I didn’t bother putting the mask back on. Not tonight. Not with her. She hesitated in the doorway, one hand still on the handle. “I couldn’t sleep.” “Neither could I.” The air between us thickened instantly. She stepped inside and closed the door behind her, the soft click sounding far too loud in the quiet room. I stood up slowly and moved closer until only a few feet separated us. Close enough to see the faint tremble in her hands. Close enough to smell the faint scent of her skin. “You went to your father’s study tonight,” I said calmly. It wasn’t a question. Her eyes widened. “How did you—” “I have eyes everywhere in that house,” I replied, voice low. “What were you looking for, Celine?” She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she lifted her chin and looked straight at me, really looking at me, as if seeing the real Lucien for the first time. “Who are you?” she whispered, her voice shaking but steady. “The man who held me in bed this morning… the man who threatened Clara tonight… the man standing in front of me right now. Are you the broken boy Mrs. Hargrove warned me about? Or is that just another lie?” Her words hit harder than I expected. For a moment, the predator in me wanted to push her against the wall and show her exactly who I was. Instead, I took another step closer, towering over her. “You’re asking dangerous questions,” I murmured, my voice dark and rough. “Questions that could get you hurt.” Celine’s breath hitched, but she didn’t back down. “You were different today. No childish voice. No games. You threatened Clara like you wanted to break her. Was that real? Or do you really have two personalities like Mrs. Hargrove said?” I leaned in, one hand bracing on the desk beside her, caging her in. The scent of her filled my lungs. Fear and something hotter mingled in her eyes. “Maybe I’m both,” I said softly, dangerously. “Maybe I’m the monster they all fear… and the one who will destroy anyone who touches you.” Her pulse jumped visibly at her throat. She was breathing faster now, chest rising and falling against the thin silk of her robe. The cut on her arm was a stark reminder of tonight’s violence. I reached out and brushed my thumb gently over the bandage, but my grip on the desk tightened. “You’re not what I expected, Celine Laurent,” I whispered, my face inches from hers. “And that makes you very, very dangerous to me.” She stared up at me, eyes wide, lips slightly parted. The tension between us crackled like electricity fear, suspicion, and a dark, unwanted attraction that neither of us could deny. For one suspended moment, I considered kissing her. Claiming her. Showing her exactly how lethal I could be. But I held back. Barely. Because the more I looked at her, the more I realized I wasn’t just investigating her. I was becoming obsessed with her. And obsession was the one weakness I could not afford.
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