Chapter Three: Echoes in the Hall
The weight of Lucien's name still lingered on Elena's lips even after she left the study.
Lucien.
It felt too intimate for a man who radiated such control. But she'd seen the flicker behind his eyes when he insisted on it—something between a challenge and a demand. Names had power, and she sensed that calling him Lucien was a doorway to something deeper, something darker.
Marla met her outside the study and led her to a small but modern office just off the east wing. "This is where you'll work," she said curtly. "Your duties will come directly from Lucien. But if I give you instructions, you follow them, too."
Elena nodded. "Of course."
Stacks of mail, a laptop, several locked drawers, and a high-backed leather chair greeted her. It wasn't grand, but it was hers for now.
She sank into the seat, opened the planner, and started to familiarize herself with Lucien's schedule. Meetings with board members. Conference calls. A recurring time block each night labeled only: Do Not Disturb.
Her first real task came in the form of organizing a set of contracts and emailing responses to an associate in Milan. The documents were precise and cold, much like Lucien himself. Yet, she couldn't shake the memory of his breath on her cheek or the way his presence had filled the hallway.
As the morning melted into afternoon, she barely noticed the time passing. She was good at work like this—structured, focused. It made her feel like she was in control.
But everything changed the moment she heard the child's scream.
It pierced through the silence like shattered glass.
Elena shot to her feet, heart racing. She rushed down the corridor, her footsteps loud against the polished floor.
She followed the sound to the garden, where a little girl sat on the ground, cradling her scraped knee. A swing swayed behind her, and beside it stood Lucien, rigid and silent.
He didn't move.
Elena hurried to the girl's side. "Oh, sweetheart," she whispered, kneeling. "It's okay. Let me see."
The child had wide green eyes and golden-brown curls. Tears tracked down her cheeks, but she didn't wail. She looked at Elena with suspicion and fear.
"Who are you?" she asked, sniffling.
"My name's Elena. I work here now." She gently took the girl's leg, inspecting the scrape. "You're very brave. I'll clean this up, and you'll be good as new."
Lucien finally spoke. "Her name is Ivy."
Elena looked up, surprised by the quiet emotion in his voice.
"Ivy," she said gently, "can I carry you inside so we can clean your knee?"
Ivy nodded slowly, her arms lifting.
Lucien didn't move to help. Elena scooped the girl up carefully and carried her inside, acutely aware of his gaze following them.
---
Once inside, Elena found a small first-aid kit in the downstairs bathroom and sat Ivy on the edge of the counter.
"Does it sting?" she asked as she cleaned the scrape.
"A little," Ivy whispered.
"You're doing great."
After a moment, Ivy asked, "Are you my new nanny?"
Elena hesitated. "I'm... helping your dad with work. But I can be your friend if you want."
Ivy seemed to consider that. "I don't have many friends."
Elena offered her a smile. "Well, now you have one."
When the scrape was cleaned and bandaged, she helped Ivy down. The little girl held onto her hand, surprising her with the tightness of her grip.
"Where's your mom?" Elena asked carefully.
"She went away," Ivy said quietly.
Before Elena could ask more, Lucien appeared in the doorway.
"She's finished," he said. "Go to your room, Ivy."
The girl let go and trudged off without argument.
Lucien turned to Elena. "You handled that well."
"I used to babysit a lot. It's not hard to be kind."
His jaw tightened. "Ivy doesn't need kindness. She needs boundaries."
Elena bristled. "She's a child, Lucien. Not a prisoner."
His eyes narrowed. "You think I don't know that?"
"I think you forget," she said, stepping closer. "She's hurting, and you're too busy being 'Mr. Blackwood' to notice."
For a long second, they stared at each other.
Then, to her surprise, he laughed. A low, hollow sound. "You're braver than I thought."
"Not brave. Just not afraid of you."
"You should be."
The moment was broken by the chiming of the antique clock in the hallway.
Lucien stepped back. "Your workday's over. Go rest."
But Elena didn't rest.
Not really.
She thought of Ivy's wide eyes, Lucien's silence, and the locked doors she hadn't dared touch.
This house was a cage. Ornate, gilded, and cold.
And she wasn't sure who was more trapped inside it—Lucien, Ivy, or her.
---
The next day brought a shift in routine.
Lucien was in meetings all morning. Marla assigned Elena tasks ranging from reviewing blueprints to handling RSVPs for an upcoming event. But she kept thinking of Ivy.
By late afternoon, she found herself near the child's room. The door was ajar.
She peeked in.
Ivy was drawing. Her tiny hands gripped crayons, her tongue poking out in concentration.
"Can I join you?" Elena asked.
Ivy nodded.
They spent the next hour in silence, coloring. Elena asked simple questions. Ivy answered with honesty rare in children her age. She liked rain, hated carrots, and wanted a dog more than anything.
When Lucien found them, he paused in the doorway.
"You shouldn't be here."
"I was invited."
"Ivy doesn't invite strangers."
"I'm not a stranger," Elena replied. "Not anymore."
He didn't argue. Instead, he watched them for a long moment.
Then he said, "Dinner will be early tonight. Wear something formal."
Elena stood. "Why?"
"A guest is coming."
"Who?"
He didn't answer. Just turned and walked away.
---
Elena changed into a sleek black dress that hugged her waist. She wore minimal makeup, but her reflection startled her. She looked older. Stronger.
Dinner was served in a candlelit room. Ivy sat quietly beside her. Lucien at the head of the table.
And then the guest arrived.
A woman.
Tall, striking, red lips and diamond earrings. She moved like she belonged in every room.
"Lucien," she purred. "You look dreadful, as usual."
Lucien rose to kiss her cheek. "Genevieve."
Elena stiffened.
Genevieve's eyes landed on her. "And who is this?"
"Elena. My assistant."
Genevieve's smile was razor-sharp. "How quaint. Does she fetch your drinks or just your secrets?"
"I manage his schedule," Elena said evenly.
Genevieve turned to Ivy. "Darling. Do you remember me?"
Ivy shook her head.
"Pity." She sipped her wine.
The tension during dinner could've shattered glass. Genevieve dropped veiled insults. Lucien ignored most. Elena held Ivy's hand under the table.
Finally, Genevieve stood. "Thank you for the lovely evening. But I have other parties to attend."
Lucien walked her out.
When he returned, Elena asked, "Who was she?"
"My sister."
Her stomach twisted. "She doesn't like me."
"She doesn't like anyone."
He paused. "But you handled her. Just like Ivy. And me."
Elena met his eyes. "I'm not here to handle you. I'm here to work."
Lucien stepped closer. "Then why do I feel like you're already unraveling everything I've tried to keep buried?"
Her breath caught.
But he only turned away.
And left her with more questions than answers.