Lucien didn’t shout.
That was the worst part.
The car ride back felt endless, not because of distance, but because of silence. His hands rested calmly on his thighs, fingers occasionally flexing like he was restraining something alive inside him. He didn’t look at me. Not once.
The city lights blurred past the tinted windows. I counted my breaths, afraid that if I spoke, I would fracture whatever thin thread was keeping him composed.
When the car finally stopped, Lucien stepped out first.
“Come,” he said flatly.
No anger. No raised voice. Just control.
I followed him inside the mansion like a ghost trailing its own body. The doors closed behind us with a sound that echoed too loudly in my chest.
From that moment on, I disappeared.
Not physically, emotionally.
Lucien stopped speak
