It was past midnight when Ava tiptoed through the marble corridors of the Blackwell estate, careful not to let her slippers echo. The mansion was quiet, heavy with shadows, like it was holding its breath. The household staff had all turned in for the night. Only she remained awake, restless, alert, haunted.
She clutched a tray with Lucien's prescribed nighttime tea. The doctor insisted it would help stabilize his nerves and sleep cycle. Ava insisted she didn't want to bring it herself.
But Lucien had requested her. Again.
She reached the door to his suite and paused. Her reflection stared back from the golden doorknob, tired eyes, a guarded face, and a pain she hadn't managed to bury.
She knocked once.
"Come in," came the voice from inside, low, alert, and unmistakably him.
Ava entered, keeping her gaze fixed on the tray as she walked in. Lucien sat by the floor-length window in a black T-shirt and joggers, a book resting unopened on his lap. His eyes were shadowed, unreadable.
"You couldn't sleep?" she asked, setting the tray on the table.
"I don't sleep much anymore," he murmured. "Dreams, mostly."
She froze. "Dreams?"
He turned slightly toward her, studying her face. "Faces I don't recognize. Places I feel like I've been. A woman's voice I keep hearing, crying my name."
Ava's breath hitched. She swallowed it down. "The doctors said memory flashes are common. Your mind is trying to rebuild itself."
"Maybe," he said, standing up. "But I don't like feeling powerless. I've always been in control. Until now."
He walked closer, slowly, like a predator circling prey, but it wasn't threatening. It was... magnetic.
"I keep wondering," Lucien said, "why you're the only one who doesn't flinch around me. Why you never look me in the eyes."
Ava stiffened. "I didn't realize I"
"You do," he interrupted. "You avoid it, always. Like you're afraid of what I'll see."
Her eyes flicked to his for half a second, just long enough to feel the jolt of recognition pass between them like electricity.
Lucien tilted his head, watching her carefully. "Do I know you?"
She looked away. "No, sir."
A beat of silence.
He stepped even closer. "You're lying."
Ava's hands trembled slightly as she fumbled with the teacup. "Your tea is getting cold."
Lucien didn't move. "You said your name is Ava. No last name?"
"I don't use it."
"You wear no jewelry, no perfume. But your hands… have calluses like someone who used to play piano."
Ava froze.
Lucien narrowed his eyes. "I've kissed a woman who played piano."
She dropped the cup. It shattered on the floor.
Lucien didn't flinch.
Neither did she.
Ava took a slow breath, kneeling to clean the mess. "I'm sorry, sir."
Lucien bent down beside her, and for a heartbeat, their faces were inches apart.
"You look at me like you used to love me," he said quietly.
Her heart stuttered.
"But I've never seen you before… have I?"
Ava forced herself to meet his gaze. Just once.
"No, Mr. Blackwell," she lied. "You haven't."