The west wing of the mansion was strictly off-limits to the staff.
Especially his study.
It was locked during the day and guarded by silence at night. No one dared enter, not even the butler. Rumor had it Lucien had threatened to fire a maid once for accidentally stepping inside.
But Ava had no choice.
She waited until the mansion fell into its usual midnight hush. When the guards changed shifts and the halls were swallowed by darkness. Wearing soft slippers and carrying only a flashlight, she crept through the back corridor and stopped in front of the black double doors.
Lucien's study.
Behind it was her past. Maybe even her freedom.
She reached into her pocket and pulled out a slim key, one she had stolen weeks ago while he was distracted in the living room. A risky move. But necessary.
The lock clicked.
She slipped inside.
The study smelled of leather, old cologne, and power. The walls were lined with dark mahogany shelves filled with thick books, many untouched. A decanter of whiskey glimmered on a side table. His desk sat like a throne at the center, massive and intimidating.
She moved fast. Her hands trembled, but she forced them steady as she searched the drawers.
Receipts. Contracts. Stock certificates.
Nothing personal.
Then she opened the lower drawer.
And froze.
Inside was a slim black folder with her name on it: "Ava Hale."
Her maiden name.
She opened it, heart hammering—and gasped.
Every trace of her had been erased.
Her photo was slashed. Her ID cards scratched out. Even their marriage license was crossed out in red ink, labeled "VOID" in all caps.
A note was stapled to the back.
"Erase her from the estate. No connections. No exceptions. L. Blackwell"
Ava's hand flew to her mouth. Her eyes blurred with tears. Had Lucien really ordered this? Before the accident? Before he forgot her?
Or had someone else forged his signature to destroy her identity?
She tucked the folder under her arm and backed away, but her elbow knocked into a glass sculpture on the desk.
Crash.
Shattered crystal scattered across the floor.
A red light blinked above the door.
Security alert.
She panicked. Slipped the file into her apron and rushed toward the exit.
Too late.
The door creaked open.
Lucien stood there.
Shirtless. Tired. Dangerous.
His eyes locked on her, disheveled, breathless, standing in his private space with guilt written all over her face.
"What," he asked coldly, "are you doing in here?"
Ava's mind raced for a lie, but none came.
She clutched the folder behind her back.
"I,I got lost. I was cleaning"
"At two in the morning?" His voice was like ice. "In a locked study?"
His eyes dropped to the broken sculpture. He stepped inside, shutting the door behind him with a quiet click.
Then, slowly, he walked toward her.
Each step measured. Lethal.
"If you're lying to me, Ava…" he murmured, stopping just inches away, "I will find out."
And with that, he brushed past her and picked up the broken glass.
Ava turned to leave, heart pounding, secrets burning against her chest.
He didn't remember who she was.
But if he ever found out what she'd stolen tonight,
It would change everything.