Lucien sat alone in the living area of his father’s mansion. The vast space stretched around him in a way that made the silence feel heavier instead of peaceful. The furniture was immaculate, polished to perfection, arranged with intention and wealth in mind but it all felt distant, irrelevant. Nothing in the room grounded him. Nothing eased the tightness in his chest.
He had been staying there ever since Evelyn was gone from the convent, as though leaving would somehow mean giving up the right to look for her. Which is why returning to his former quarters, to the routine and quiet order of his old life, felt impossible. It felt like that life no longer fit him. It hadn’t, not since the moment she disappeared.
He had already crossed the line he could never step back over.
The resignatio
