Chapter Three-- The Uninvited Flame

Chapter Three: The Uninvited Flame

The sun had begun its slow descent behind the hills when the housekeepers started lighting candles around the ballroom. Gold sconces shimmered on the walls, tall arrangements of lilies and blue roses sat on each long table, and a polished string quartet rehearsed quietly in the corner.

Lucien stood just beyond the double doors, wearing a black waistcoat that had once belonged to Cassian. It fit a little loose at the shoulders, and the sleeves itched, but it was the only thing decent enough that hadn’t been locked away from him.

He didn’t belong here. Not among the guests arriving in sleek cars and glittering gowns. Not in a party hosted by a man who couldn’t even say his name without venom in his voice. And yet — here he was. Just another shadow in the corner of a grand celebration.

He watched Cassian greet guests with his usual charm, moving easily through the crowd. He looked every bit the perfect heir, flashing the smile their father adored. Behind him, Selene Kingsley walked gracefully, her dark green dress hugging her curves, her long black hair swept into a glossy wave over one shoulder.

Lucien had only seen her once before. From afar. But now, up close, he could see why Cassian had fallen. She had a quiet fire in her eyes — the kind that didn’t need to burn loud to be dangerous. There was elegance in the way she nodded to people, how her arm remained hooked in Cassian’s as though it belonged there.

Their father stood near the main staircase, nodding to investors and murmuring to councilmen. He looked proud. Pleased. More alive than Lucien had seen him in years.

Because of her.

Because of the Kingsleys.

Lucien turned his gaze to the chandelier above. He wondered, for a moment, if it would all come crashing down — the illusion, the greed, the lies. But it didn’t. Not yet.

Earlier that morning, the house had been alive with tension. Lucien had been scrubbing the front hall floors when he overheard it.

“She’s coming tonight,” Gerard said to one of the advisors, pacing the study.

“The Kingsley girl?” the man asked.

Gerard grinned. “Selene. Sister to Zayn Kingsley himself. Do you know what that means for our family name?”

“An alliance?”

“A future,” Gerard said, eyes gleaming. “Cassian brings her in, he becomes the center of our expansion. The Kingsleys will owe us something. A child between them could secure —”

Lucien stopped listening after that. His hands clenched the rag tighter.

To his father, Selene wasn’t a person. She was a connection. A prize. Another name to add to the Ainsworth legacy.

And Cassian — did he know?

---

Now, hours later, Lucien drifted along the edge of the ballroom. He refilled wine glasses, adjusted table cloths, and slipped behind servers without drawing attention. That was his role. The ghost twin.

“Lucien.”

He turned, startled.

Cassian stood in front of him, holding two glasses of wine. He passed one to Lucien.

“You shouldn’t be serving tonight,” Cassian said. “You should be resting.”

Lucien looked around nervously. “If Father sees—”

“He’s busy,” Cassian said. “Don’t worry. Just… breathe. Enjoy the music for a minute.”

They both leaned against a nearby column, watching the crowd.

“She’s beautiful,” Lucien said quietly.

Cassian smiled. “She is.”

“You really love her.”

“I do.”

“And Father?”

Cassian’s smile faded. “He wants a Kingsley at our table. He doesn’t care which of us brings her.”

Lucien looked at his brother. “And what do you want?”

Cassian sipped his wine. “I want her to be safe. I want her to feel like she can trust me. Even if everything else burns.”

Lucien’s eyes dropped to the floor. He knew what it was like to have everything burn.

Cassian nudged him gently. “Go upstairs. Take a break. I’ll handle the rest of tonight.”

Lucien hesitated, then nodded. He slipped out of the ballroom quietly, past the noise, the music, the illusion.

Back in his room, he sat by the window and watched the night deepen. He held the silver chain around his neck and closed his eyes.

For once, he wished nothing would change.

But it would.

Everything would.

The sky was still clear that evening. No omen. No red moon. Just stars, scattered like dust across a velvet sky.

Lucien stepped out of his room when the corridor had emptied. He didn't like being seen in his brother's clothes, especially not by the people who whispered and pointed behind his back. But Cassian had told him to rest, and the noise of the party was giving him a headache. He thought maybe he could go for a walk behind the garden or visit the greenhouse where the old cook used to plant basil before she was dismissed.

He took the back staircase, the one servants used, and kept his head low. But halfway down, voices drifted upward. Familiar ones.

"You shouldn't be walking alone."

Cassian.

Lucien paused.

"I can handle myself," Selene replied.

"Still... at least let me get the car."

Lucien heard their steps below, followed by a brief shuffle. Curious, he leaned over the railing — just enough to see Cassian offering Selene his jacket. She looked at him with something between amusement and fondness.

"I just need air," she said. "Your house is a bit suffocating."

"You should see it when there's no party."

She laughed softly.

Cassian looked around and lowered his voice. "Don’t go too far. Father doesn’t want you wandering."

"Your father doesn't own me," she said calmly. "And I won't be long."

Lucien stepped back into the shadows. He didn’t want to be caught eavesdropping, but he also didn’t want to walk past them.

A few seconds later, he heard the side door creak open and close. Then, Cassian’s footsteps echoed up the stairs.

Lucien tried to turn around and return to his room, but Cassian spotted him. "Hey."

He stopped.

"You okay?"

Lucien nodded. "Just needed air."

Cassian walked up to him and handed him a small key. "I left a new notebook in your desk drawer. In case you feel like writing again."

Lucien took the key. "Thank you."

Cassian smiled, tired but genuine. "I'm going back down. You should get some rest."

He left without waiting for a reply.

Lucien returned to his room, set the key on the nightstand, and sat on the bed. He rubbed his arms, uneasy.

Something felt off.

He didn’t know what, but the air had shifted.

---

The scream shattered the silence.

It came from outside. High. Sudden. Then the screech of tires.

Lucien shot to his feet and rushed to the window.

There, on the curved driveway beneath the estate's grand stairs, a sleek black car had slammed into one of the marble pillars. Smoke curled from the hood. Glass glinted across the stone.

A body was being pulled from the wreck.

Selene.

Lucien didn’t think. He ran.

Down the hallway, down the stairs, past confused servants and startled guards. He pushed open the side doors and dashed across the lawn, feet sinking slightly into the grass.

Cassian was already there, crouched beside her. Blood stained Selene’s temple. Her leg bent wrong. She wasn’t conscious.

"Call an ambulance!" Cassian shouted.

A guard spoke rapidly into a radio.

Lucien stood frozen.

Then Gerard appeared.

"What the hell happened?"

A few seconds of silence. Then a staff member said, "She took the car. Alone. No one knew."

Cassian stood, breathing hard. "She just wanted to get some air. I was going to drive her, but she said—"

"She’s Zayn Kingsley’s sister!" Gerard roared. "Do you understand what you've done?!"

Lucien opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Gerard turned toward him slowly.

"You," he said. Cold. Calculating.

Lucien blinked. "What?"

Gerard stepped closer. "You were upstairs. You were seen. Near the car. Near her."

"No, I—"

"Do you want us all dead?" Gerard hissed. "Do you want the Kingsleys to bring a war to our door?"

Cassian looked between them. "Father, stop. He had nothing to do with this."

Gerard ignored him. "Lucien will say he took the car. That he startled her. That it was his fault."

Lucien felt the words hit like ice.

"No," Cassian said.

Gerard rounded on him. "You think they’ll forgive you? You're the heir. The public face. If they think you endangered Zayn Kingsley’s sister, it won’t just be our reputation — it’ll be our lives."

Cassian hesitated.

Lucien looked at his brother. Then at Selene, pale and broken on the stone.

And he understood.

Gerard didn’t need a scapegoat.

He had always known who it would be.

Lucien lowered his eyes.

"I took the car," he whispered.

Cassian’s voice cracked. "Lucien, no."

But it was done.

Gerard turned to the guards. "Make sure the story is clean. No leaks."

The ambulance arrived moments later.

Lucien stood still, invisible again.

Only this time, he had truly disappeared.

Into the story that would become his prison.

Into the lie that would define his fate.

And far off, in the dark corners of the city, a name began to stir.

Zayn Kingsley...