Ava paced the length of the servants' quarters, her heart still heavy from the memory of their secret wedding. She couldn't sleep. Not with the ring still warm in her palm.
She needed proof. Something more than memories.
Something Lucien could see.
At dawn, she slipped into the attic, the one place in the mansion where no one ever went except her.
Boxes lined the shelves. Old files, forgotten photos, dust-covered relics of the Blackwell estate.
She knelt by a crate marked "Storage – West Wing." Inside were dozens of photo albums, envelopes, and at the bottom, a velvet pouch.
Her hands trembled.
She opened it.
Inside was a photo, worn, slightly faded, but unmistakable.
Lucien and her.
In front of the cabin.
Her in a white dress. Him in a white shirt, arms wrapped around her, forehead pressed to hers.
Their wedding photo.
She gasped, clutching it to her chest.
They hadn't taken many photos. Only this one, captured by the priest before the ceremony.
Tears filled her eyes.
He has to see this.
She ran down the narrow stairs, clutching the photo like it was life itself.
But when she reached her room,
The door was open.
She stopped cold.
Someone had been there.
She rushed inside. The floorboards had been pried open. Her ring was gone.
No...
And worse, when she opened her hand to double-check the photo,
It was gone, too.
A wisp of smoke curled in the air.
She turned.
Out the tiny window, in the courtyard below, stood Madam Blackwell, Lucien's mother, her elegant figure poised near a stone basin.
She held something in her manicured hand.
And she dropped it into the flames.
The edges of the photo curled as it burned.
Ava watched in horror, heart sinking into her stomach.
The only physical proof of her marriage, destroyed.
Later that evening, she stood near the kitchen sink, her hands shaking too much to even hold a glass.
Lena, the head maid, approached quietly.
"You alright?" Lena asked.
Ava forced a nod. "Just tired."
"You're always tired lately. Almost like you're carrying the weight of something heavy."
Ava swallowed the lump in her throat. "Maybe I am."
Meanwhile, Lucien stood on his balcony, watching the same courtyard below.
He could smell faint smoke from earlier in the day.
Something in his chest stirred.
He didn't know why…But it felt like he'd lost something important.
Something he was supposed to protect.