Lucien's POV:
"She is your weakness," my mother's voice, cold and flat, sliced through the air. "Your vulnerability. And through her, we will finally bring you down."
The words were a physical blow, but the shock was not her presence – Adrien had already confirmed she was alive.
The shock was the audacity of her appearance, the depth of her malice, and the casual cruelty of her declaration.
The woman standing before me was not the mother I had mourned, but a stranger, a weapon aimed directly at Celeste. The implications were brutal.
My life, my carefully constructed empire, was now a battleground, and the most devastating strike would come through the woman I had just claimed.
Marco Rossi's cruel smile widened, his gaze lingering on Celeste with a possessive glint that made my blood run cold. My body tensed, every instinct screaming to protect her. But my mother's next words halted me.
"Let him go, Lucien," she said, her voice sharp, seeing the raw fury in my eyes. "He's just a means to an end." Her gaze, devoid of warmth, fixed on me. "The game has evolved, mon fils. The pieces are in play."
She took a step back, melting into the shadows of the doorway. Rossi, ever the opportunist, followed her.
They didn't retreat, not truly. They vanished, leaving the heavy silence of the penthouse in their wake, the door clicking softly shut.
A strategic withdrawal, a psychological attack.
---
The sudden absence was almost more terrifying than their presence. Celeste, still clutching my arm, was trembling.
I turned to her, pulling her close, burying her face against my chest, feeling the frantic beat of her heart against my own.
"Are you alright?" I murmured against her hair, my voice rough.
She nodded, muffled, her breath ragged. "Nadia… Is it true?"
The betrayal was a fresh wound, a different kind of pain. "I don't know the full extent," I admitted, my voice tight. "But Rossi uses weaknesses. He found hers. He exploited her grief over her brother."
My mind was a maelstrom of thoughts, rage, and a terrifying clarity.
My mother. Alive.
Aligned with Rossi and Damien.
The extent of the deception, the layers of manipulation, were staggering.
She had orchestrated this.
All of it.
The anonymous text to Celeste, the lure. It was all designed to destabilize me, to force my hand, to expose me through Celeste.
I pulled back, holding Celeste at arm's length, my eyes sweeping over her, assessing her. She was pale, shocked, but her gaze met mine, unwavering. The fear was there, but so was a nascent strength, a resilience I admired more than anything.
"We move," I stated, my voice decisive.
"Move?" she whispered. "Where?"
"To a secure location," I explained, already formulating the plan. "My safe house. Not even Adrien knows its full location. It's built for contingencies like this. Untraceable. Untouchable."
Her brow furrowed. "But… my apartment. My things."
"They are no longer safe," I cut her off, my voice firm. "Nothing from your old life is. This isn't a game, Celeste. My mother… she knows how I think. She knows my vulnerabilities. And she will exploit every single one of them to get to me through you."
The truth was stark, brutal.
The intimacy we had shared hours ago felt like a fragile dream shattered by the brutal reality of my world. I had promised her safety, promised to shield her, and now that promise felt like a fragile shield against an enemy I never saw coming.
I pulled out my secure phone, dialing Adrien.
"Perimeter around the penthouse has been breached. They were here. My mother, Rossi."
"She's alive, Lucien? What did she say?" Adrien's voice was tight with disbelief, despite his earlier intel. He had given me the information, but now seeing her face in the reports, understanding the full scope of the betrayal, it was a different matter.
"A lie, Adrien. All of it. She's been in contact with Damien. Playing us all." My voice was devoid of emotion, a cold, hard command.
"Seal the city. Every exit. Airports, ports, train stations. No one leaves without my express approval. I want eyes on every Moretti and Rossi asset. And I want them found."
"Understood, Lucien. But… your mother… what is her objective?" Adrien's voice was tight with disbelief.
"To destroy me," I growled, glancing at Celeste, whose eyes had widened at my words. "And she plans to use Celeste to do it."
I ended the call, my gaze returning to Celeste. She looked like a deer caught in headlights, but beneath the fear, I saw the flicker of something else. Resolve.
"You said… 'the truth about Lucien'," she murmured, recalling the anonymous text. "What truth?"
My jaw clenched. My mother had always seen a darkness in me, a reflection of my father she had desperately tried to erase. But there were other truths, buried deep, secrets I had guarded my entire life, secrets she could expose.
"Later," I said, dismissively. "For now, we prepare."
I moved with purpose, pulling out a tactical bag, filling it with essentials.
Weapons, comms, encrypted drives.
Every move was precise, honed by years of living on the edge. I was a king of shadows, yes, but even shadows could be hunted.
And this hunter was intimately familiar with my terrain.
Celeste watched me, her gaze tracking my every movement. Her posture was stiff, her silence a stark contrast to the passionate woman she had been just hours before.
The honeymoon of our shared desire was over.
The brutal reality of my world had crashed down, and she was caught in its destructive wake.
"I need you to trust me now, Celeste," I said, looking into her eyes, pleading with her, not for physical surrender, but for an unwavering belief in my ability to protect her. "More than ever before."
She took a slow, deliberate breath. "I do, Lucien. But this… this is beyond anything I could have imagined."
"I know," I admitted, the burden of her fear heavy on my shoulders. "But I will not let them touch you. I swear it."
My mother had found my weakness. But she had also awakened a ferocity in me that even I hadn't known I possessed.
This wasn't just about my empire anymore.
This was about Celeste.
And I would unleash hell itself to keep her safe from the ghosts of my past. The wound was bleeding, yes, but it was also fueling a fire, a rage that would consume anyone who dared to threaten what was mine.