His Contract Girlfriend

Episode Seventeen

Elara had spent the entire morning carefully planning how to survive the visit without exposing herself to further embarrassment or heartbreak. The problem was that her parents had decided to appear at her apartment unannounced, citing some urgent need to discuss “important matters,” and Lucien had insisted he would accompany her. The phrase “important matters” was already a trap and she knew it.

Adrian and Nyla had both offered to intervene, with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Adrian, trying to act heroic, had said, “I will shield you with my very presence,” which had earned him a dry stare from Nyla, who had replied, “You cannot shield anyone from a Vale or their sense of entitlement, Adrian. Accept it and weep quietly.”

Elara, now standing in the kitchen making what she hoped was a non-offensive breakfast, muttered to herself. “Weep quietly sounds about right.” She sighed, flicking a stray strand of hair from her eyes. The coffee smelled bitter, her toast was burnt, and her brain was full of preemptive panic. Everything about this morning screamed disaster.

The knock on the door was sharp, decisive, and utterly terrifying. Lucien was already standing behind her, jacket in hand, expression calm, as if he had personally orchestrated this entire encounter for maximum dramatic effect.

“Are you ready?” he asked, voice even but slightly teasing.

Elara twisted her mouth. “No. Absolutely not. And why do I feel like I am walking into a trap designed to humiliate me?”

He tilted his head, eyes glinting. “Because you are.”

Before she could respond, the door swung open and her mother strode in, face tight with that combination of concern and disapproval that made Elara’s chest tighten. Behind her, her father followed with a polite smile that did not quite reach his eyes.

“Elara, darling,” her mother said, voice sweet but sharp. “We need to discuss some things about your… social responsibilities.”

Elara internally groaned. Social responsibilities had always translated to “your behavior is inadequate in the presence of certain people.”

“Good morning,” she said tightly, forcing a smile that felt brittle even to her own eyes.

“And this is Lucien,” her mother said, nodding at him in a way that suggested he should feel guilty for existing. “We should all be properly acquainted.”

Lucien inclined his head slightly. “It is a pleasure to meet you,” he said, tone calm, measured, completely terrifying.

Her mother’s lips pressed together. Adrian would later call this the “Vale effect,” the phenomenon where Lucien’s mere presence made normal people question their entire existence.

Breakfast was tense. Elara tried to sip her coffee without spilling it, without shaking, without collapsing under the weight of her parents’ curiosity, and without staring too obviously at Lucien. He sat across from her, eyes sharp and scanning, calm but with that dangerous undertone that made everyone around him slightly nervous.

“So,” her father began, clearing his throat, “Lucien, tell us about your family. How do you handle responsibilities?”

Lucien’s calm gaze flicked to him, one eyebrow slightly raised. “Responsibility is a choice,” he said evenly. “And accountability is mandatory.”

Elara internally facepalmed. The way he said “mandatory” made it sound like her parents had just failed a final exam.

Her mother leaned slightly forward. “And what about relationships? How do you manage… complications?”

Lucien’s eyes met Elara’s briefly. That glance alone was enough to make her stomach lurch. He did not answer immediately. He took a measured sip of water, then looked back at her mother. “Complications are addressed before they escalate,” he said calmly, and that was the moment Elara realized she was both terrified and utterly infuriated at him.

Adrian, lurking just inside the kitchen doorway under the guise of being helpful, whispered to Nyla. “She looks like she’s about to combust.”

“She looks like she’s trying not to stab him with a spoon,” Nyla whispered back, smirking.

Elara’s mother pursed her lips, clearly satisfied with the vague answer. “Very well,” she said. “I trust you understand the importance of proper conduct in social circles. Elara, are you aware of what is expected?”

Elara’s throat tightened. “Yes, Mother,” she said, voice tight but controlled. Internally, she wanted to scream, cry, and throw her plate across the room simultaneously. She hated that she could feel both anxious and frustrated at the same time, and that Lucien’s presence made it worse.

“Good,” her mother said. “I hope this is understood.”

Breakfast continued in tense silence. Every clink of a spoon, every sip of coffee, every small movement felt charged with scrutiny. Elara tried not to think about how unfair it was that a simple meal could feel like a trial.

After a painfully long silence, her father cleared his throat. “Elara, we noticed some… associations recently.” His gaze flicked to Lucien, and Elara felt her stomach drop.

Lucien’s expression did not change, but there was a faint tightening around his jaw. “I am aware of the associations in question,” he said evenly.

“Are you?” her mother asked, tilting her head in a way that suggested a hawk might have been less intimidating.

“I am aware,” Lucien repeated, calm but sharp. “And I handle all matters with discretion.”

Elara wanted to slam her head into the table. Her mother was giving Lucien the power to interrogate her feelings silently, and he was taking full advantage.

Adrian muttered under his breath, loud enough for Nyla to hear, “This is an emotional hostage situation disguised as breakfast.”

Nyla snickered. “And I am living for it.”

Elara pinched the bridge of her nose. “Why does everyone feel the need to make me miserable at once?”

“You chose poorly when you allowed him to exist in your life,” Adrian whispered dramatically.

She shot him a look that could have disintegrated him on the spot. “This is my life, Adrian. And it is not a rehearsal.”

After what felt like hours but was probably only twenty minutes, her parents finally stood. Her mother’s expression was tight but polite. “We will leave you to your morning. Think carefully about your responsibilities, Elara.”

Her father added, voice soft but cutting, “And the consequences of your choices.”

Lucien stood as well, tall and calm, eyes briefly meeting hers. “I will ensure that everything remains in order,” he said quietly, almost a warning.

As the door closed, Elara felt the tension leave the room but not her chest. She sank into the nearest chair, trembling slightly. Adrian flopped into the seat next to her. “See? I told you. Emotional hostage situation.”

“I cannot,” Elara muttered. “I cannot deal with them. I cannot deal with him. I cannot deal with any of this.”

Nyla leaned against the counter, smirking. “You are clearly in love. Don’t pretend otherwise.”

She groaned. “I hate that you are right.”

Adrian, ever dramatic, whispered, “This is just the beginning. You have no idea what’s coming. Your life is about to get messy, public, and humiliating in ways that will make t****k creators jealous.”

Elara buried her face in her hands. She was painfully aware he was right. And that realization was the worst part.

Because now she knew that her feelings were not private, that Lucien’s distance made her ache, and that the interference of her family meant she could not hide, not anymore, not at all.

The dread settled over her chest like a stone. The emotional fallout was already beginning. And she had no choice but to brace herself for the storm that was about to crash into every corner of her life.