Chapter 7: The First Betrayal
The next morning, sunlight filtered in through the tall windows of the penthouse. Elara stood at the balcony, arms crossed, watching the city buzz beneath her. Lucien moved behind her, silent.
"You should leave before the press finds you here," she said.
Lucien leaned against the doorframe. "They already know. A camera drone's been circling the building since six."
Elara turned slightly. "Then you should really go."
But he didn't.
"Elara," he said carefully, "you told me you didn't want me involved. That this was your fight. I respected that. But what happens when the battle spills into both our empires?"
She said nothing.
"You think you can protect me by pushing me away. But love doesn't work like that. Not when the knives come from your own blood."
At that, Elara stiffened. "Then maybe you should stay out of it."
Lucien moved closer. "And maybe I'm tired of watching you bleed alone."
She didn't answer. Couldn't.
Because deep down, she feared something worse than failure—losing him.
---
That Afternoon — Delacroix Holdings, Board Archives
Bastien flipped through sealed ledgers behind closed doors.
He found it tucked beneath layers of falsified estate taxes—an offshore account traced to Adrien, dated two years ago. The payments were irregular but large.
"Found you," he muttered.
Just then, a voice came from the shadows.
"You shouldn't be here, Vale."
Bastien turned. It was Roland Vautrin—Adrien's private advisor and the company's second-most dangerous man.
"Neither should you," Bastien replied smoothly.
Roland didn't smile. "Whatever you're digging into… bury it. Or you'll find your next job in a ditch."
"I'm already under contract with Elara. You wouldn't want to interfere with a legal obligation, would you?"
Roland stepped closer. "Watch your back, counselor. She's not the only one being hunted."
---
Meanwhile — Saint-Pierre Estate
Adrien stared at the encrypted email sent to his private server.
Anonymous sender. Attached file.
It contained surveillance footage from years ago.
Footage of Elara.
Younger. With her mother. Arguing in a hospital room.
The final frame: her mother slapping her before walking out the door.
Isolde stood behind him, arms folded. "She doesn't know it was recorded."
Adrien's lips curled. "Good. Because when the press sees it… the saintly heiress's image will crumble."
"But are you sure she didn't know about the trust her mother tried to steal?"
"She lied to Lucien. She'll lie to the world too."
He clicked Upload.
---
That Night — Leontis Penthouse
Lucien received the video from an anonymous tip before Elara did.
He watched it once.
Then again.
And something inside him twisted.
He remembered her tears. Her silence when he asked about her mother.
And now he understood.
When Elara arrived at the penthouse that evening, she found Lucien cold.
He handed her the tablet. "Is this real?"
She watched the footage without flinching.
Then whispered, "Yes."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I didn't want you to see me like that. Weak. Rejected."
"You weren't weak. You were betrayed."
He reached for her—but she stepped back.
"Lucien, this isn't your fight."
His jaw tightened. "Then stop making me the enemy when all I've ever done is stand beside you."
And with that, he left.
Leaving Elara alone with a war closing in from every side.
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