Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 11 - Chapitre 18

The photo session ended with a bitter taste in my mouth. Every forced smile from Aurora, every glance she averted from me, every inch of her skin I touched under the disguise of a family pose, fed a silent fury inside me.Löwe was restless, unsatisfied. The farce was necessary, but every minute in that golden cage with her so close and yet so distant was a form of torture.And then there was the boy. August.When I crouched beside him for the photo, something strange happened. His green eyes, a shade slightly lighter than mine, stared at me with a curiosity that went beyond childish. There was a strange familiarity that made my chest tighten. A mixture of anger and helplessness burned in my blood. He was my father’s son, the ultimate symbol of Cassius’s power over Aurora. One more prison created by him to keep her unreachable for me.Cassius found me in the hallway, his calculating gaze as always.“Tristan. You will pay a visit to the Meyers today.” It wasn’t an invitation. It was a

The Meyer house was the same — a monster of glass and steel anchored at the water’s edge, gleaming under the sun like a false smile. Mrs. Meyer received me with that exaggerated smile of someone who sees a walking trophy.“Tristan, darling! Erika is radiant! She can barely contain her excitement since she found out you were coming.”Erika appeared, dressed as if for a magazine cover, her smile as carefully rehearsed as mine had been hours earlier in the garden.“Tristan! You came!” She threw herself at me for a hug that I endured, my body a wall of tension, my hands inert at my sides.“Cassius thought it prudent for me to visit,” I replied, my voice flat, pulling away from her as if her skin burned. Mentioning my father was a cold reminder of the real reason for this farce.Mrs. Meyer guided us to the veranda, chattering nonstop about beautiful couples, children, and perfect properties for families. Every word was a nail in my coffin. Erika tried to bring up nostalgic subjects, her vo

The silence of my room in the afternoon was oppressive, filled with the echo of the morning provocations. The photo session had left invisible marks, and the memory of Tristan haunted every corner of my mind.I needed to move, to do something that would wash his memory from my skin. The indoor pool. I took advantage of the moment when August was immersed in his piano lesson, a Thursday afternoon ritual I never interrupted. It was the only time I could allow myself some emptiness, knowing he was safe and occupied.Under the amber light of the late afternoon, the water looked like a block of liquid amber. A heavy, hot silence hung in the air, as thick as the humidity. It was a place that could have been peaceful, but for me it was a personal battlefield.I put on a simple black swimsuit — a functional second skin, not an invitation. Before going down, the silent agony was so great that I grabbed my phone. A simple, disposable model I kept hidden. Cassius monitored everything, but this w

The silence that fell was heavier than the water around us. The frenzy had passed, leaving behind a trail of scratches, still water, and a truth so overwhelming that my knees threatened to give way.The cold water, which had previously been a mere detail, now raised goosebumps on my overheated skin — a cruel contrast to the fire still burning in my core.He was still inside me. The feeling of fullness, of a profane and perfect connection, was the trigger. The tears came, not from sadness, but from a pure and lacerating rage.“I hate you.” The words came out in a hoarse breath, filled with seven years of poison. I started hitting him, weak and desperate blows against his chest. “I hate you for discarding me like trash at that party! For spitting on what we were!”Each word was a blow, each blow the release of a poisoned memory.“I hate you for every night I spent waiting for a letter, a sign, anything from you, like an idiot! I hate you for never letting me forget the taste of your mou