All Chapters of Young Master Lucien’s Bride: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

Lucien’s POV I knew my sister was a master manipulator. I had watched her twist our parents around her little finger for years, and she had spent her entire adolescence using dramatic tears to escape the consequences of her actions. Part of me was entirely convinced that she had staged the whole fall down the grand staircase just to stall for time. But the family doctor’s medical report didn't lie; her ankle was severely sprained, the tissue was completely compromised, and she couldn't be moved without risking permanent structural damage. My hands were completely tied. I couldn't force an injured teenager onto a private plane without triggering a family scandal, so I couldn't send her away yet. She was staying right here in the east wing, and I had to deal with the fallout. I spent the entire afternoon sitting at my desk, completely ignoring my strategy files. Instead, I stayed on the phone with the dean of Lila’s college d

Lucien’s POV Vivienne was taking full advantage of her fake injury. The entire east wing of the mansion was completely filled with the non-stop, high-pitched ringing of her bedroom service bell, a sound that echoed through the hallways every five minutes without fail. She was treating my staff like her personal pool attendants, demanding that they bring her specific organic green juices squeezed from imported vegetables, exotic fruits cut into identical shapes, and a continuous rotation of French fashion magazines that Arthur had to send a courier downtown to fetch. She was running a total simulation of a luxury resort right inside her quarters, and the entire household was completely exhausted by her entitlement. I marched down the long corridor, my leather shoes clicking heavily against the polished floorboards, my jaw clenched tightly into a rigid line. The tension from the office was still weighing heavily on my shoulders, and the

Lila's POV The flashlight was slippery in my sweaty palm as I forced my legs to move. My slippers made no sound on the rug as I stepped into the office, moonlight casting long shadows across Lucien's desk. The silhouette at the computer didn't notice me — their fingers moving fast, adjusting a thumb drive in the back of the terminal. Heat rushed up my neck, burning away my hesitation. Turn back. This isn't your problem. Except it kind of was. Everything in this house had become my problem the second I moved in. I lifted the flashlight like a club and cracked the silence. "Who's there?" My voice shook the room, louder than I meant it to. It bounced off the walls and glass cabinets, echoing sharply. The shadow froze. Their hand stopped dead over the glowing screen. For a long second, nobody breathed. The only soun

Lila's POV I sat at one of the tables in the mansion's private library, surrounded by leather-bound books climbing all the way to the curved ceiling. Afternoon sun streamed through the stained-glass, painting the floorboards gold, but none of it touched my nerves. My history textbook was open in front of me, highlighter in hand, and I hadn't read a single sentence in over an hour. I couldn't focus. My brain kept looping back to that shadow bending over Lucien's desk in the dark. Say it with me, Lila. You. Are. Not. Crazy. No matter what the computer logs said, no matter how clean the files looked — I knew what I saw. I wasn't some girl who imagined ghosts the second the power cut out. Growing up where I did, I trained my eyes to track movement in the dark, and that figure was real. The speed of their hands. The way they froze the second I spoke. Ghosts didn't freeze like that. People did.

Lila's POV Lucien left for a business dinner downtown around seven, his sedan rolling quietly down the gravel drive until the iron gates clicked shut behind him. The second they did, the whole mansion seemed to shift, turning cold and vast and completely empty in a way it hadn't felt an hour ago. I sat on the edge of my mattress, legs dangling, staring at the dark wood floor, feeling weirdly, stupidly lonely. A few weeks ago, I'd have celebrated him leaving. Popped some fake champagne. Danced around my room like the villain was finally out of the building. Great. He's barely gone twenty minutes and I already miss the guy who legally owns me. Cool. Cool, cool, cool. Very normal. Very healthy. I hated how much space he'd started taking up in my head. Ever since he held that necklace against my skin yesterday and told me his job was to keep me safe, the walls of this place had started to feel different.