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Chapter 6: The Estate Rules
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2026-03-07 23:27:04I kept the card in my fist until my nails left half-moons in my skin.
Outside City Hall, the cameras still flashed, catching the last crumbs of our “moment.” Renaud’s hand rested at my back just long enough to guide me down the steps, then lifted away like touching me was a choice he made only when necessary.The car door opened before I reached it.A man in a dark coat, broad shoulders, close-cropped hair, an earpiece tucked behind one ear…held it with
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VOWS IN THE WAR ROOM Chapter 6: The Estate Rules
I kept the card in my fist until my nails left half-moons in my skin.Outside City Hall, the cameras still flashed, catching the last crumbs of our “moment.” Renaud’s hand rested at my back just long enough to guide me down the steps, then lifted away like touching me was a choice he made only when necessary.The car door opened before I reached it.A man in a dark coat, broad shoulders, close-cropped hair, an earpiece tucked behind one ear…held it with the calm efficiency of someone who’d done this in worse places than a wedding.“Madame,” he said.I almost turned to see who he meant.Renaud slid into the car after me, coat brushing my sleeve. The door shut. The city sound dropped out, replaced by the soft hum of a warm engine and the faint scent of leather.The card burned in my hand.Renaud glanced at my fingers. Not my face. My fingers.“What did the flowers come with?” he asked.
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The pen felt heavier than it should have.I held it above the signature line while my father’s silence pressed on my back like a hand. Luc stood near the door with his arms crossed, jaw working as if he was chewing words he didn’t dare say out loud. Julien Caron waited without moving, eyes on the clock, not my face.Renaud Valois didn’t blink.He just watched.“You have one hour,” he’d said, like he was offering a courtesy instead of a countdown.I looked at the page again. The words were clean. Legal. Neatly arranged into a cage.“Before I sign,” I said, keeping my voice steady, “I want one sentence added.”Caron lifted his brows. “Ms. Morel…”“I’m not asking you,” I said, eyes on Renaud. “I’m asking him.”Renaud’s gaze didn’t shift. “Say it.”“No wage interference,” I said. “Ever. Not as pressure. Not as punishment. Not as leverage.”My father let out a sharp breath. “Yselle, stop…”Renaud cut him off without looking at him. “Agreed.”Caron hesitated, then opened his briefcase again
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My father didn’t touch the marriage agreement right away.He stared at it like it might bite.Luc circled the desk once, hands in his pockets, then stopped as if movement alone could change the outcome. Julien Caron stood by the door, quiet and patient, the kind of patient that meant he had all day and we had none.I looked at the contract again.My name sat near the top in clean black print.So did his.Renaud Valois.My father cleared his throat. “This is… outrageous.”Luc let out a short laugh. “Outrageous is one word.”“Luc,” my father warned.“What?” Luc spread his hands. “He can’t just walk in and…" He nodded at the paper. “That.”My father’s smile tried to return and failed halfway. “Lower your voice.”Luc dropped it, but his eyes stayed hot.Julien Caron finally spoke. “Mr. Valois asked for a response within the hour.”My father turned to him. “And if we refuse?”Caron’s face didn’t change. “Then the notice proceeds. Restrictions become action.”My father lifted his chin. “You
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Renaud Valois didn’t hurry. He stepped into the reception area as if the air belonged to him, as if the factory’s heat and noise were background music chosen for his entrance. Cold followed him in from outside. It curled around his coat hem, around his shoulders, and it didn’t leave when the doors shut. Julien Caron moved to his side at once. “Mr. Valois.” Renaud’s gaze slid past him and landed on me again. Not in the way men look when they like what they see. Not in the way men look when they want to win. It was closer to recognition. Like he’d met me somewhere else, in a file, in a story someone told him with names and dates. Luc shifted beside me. “That’s him,” he muttered, like I needed help.“I guessed,” I said. Renaud stopped a few feet away. Close enough that I could see the faint line of scar near his jaw. Close enough that I could smell his cologne....clean, restrained and expensive without trying. His eyes moved once, quick, taking in my coat, my pinned hair, the tir
VOWS IN THE WAR ROOM Chapter 2: Hector’s Smile
The man in the doorway held the envelope like it weighed nothing.It was the kind of envelope people used when they wanted to look calm while they pulled the floor out from under you.He stepped inside without asking, because my father’s office had always been treated like a place where rules bent for visitors with money.“Mr. Hector Morel,” he said, voice even. “Ms. Yselle Morel.”My father’s smile warmed, as if we’d been joined by an old friend. “You found us. Please...come in.”The man didn’t sit. He didn’t glance at the framed photo on the wall of our family in front of the factory sign, either. His eyes stayed on business.He offered the envelope across my father’s desk. “Service confirmed.”My father took it with two fingers, careful not to crease it. “And you are?”“Julien Caron,” the man said. “Counsel for Valois Capital.”The name landed wrong. Not the words themselves. The way my father’s eyes blinked once, then smoothed over.Valois.Luc had said my father had a meeting. He
VOWS IN THE WAR ROOM Chapter 1: The Payroll Line
The furnaces were running, which was supposed to be comforting.Heat rolled across the factory floor in slow waves. It carried that familiar mix…hot metal, mineral dust, and the sharp bite of fresh-cut glass. On most mornings, the smell meant we were alive.This morning it felt like the building was holding its breath.A forklift beeped as it reversed near Packing. Someone laughed too loudly near the racks, like they were trying to trick themselves into normalcy. I stepped around a pallet of finished tumblers and kept my eyes off the time clock.“Morning, Yselle,” Henri called, lifting two fingers. His smile arrived late, like it had to climb stairs.“Morning,” I said. “Try not to break anything today.”Henri snorted. “Tell the glass that.”I almost smiled. Almost.My boots tapped across concrete toward the office. I felt the stares before I saw them—quick glances, then eyes dropping away. People didn’t want to look at me too long. Looking too long meant asking questions, and nobody w
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