Who Are You Again?

Chapter 6

The private jet touches down with a smooth but decisive jolt, the dark tarmac illuminated only by a handful of security lights. Outside, the night air is thick with the scent of rain, the distant glow of a city barely visible beyond the rolling countryside.

I tighten my grip on the armrest as the engines quiet. The moment feels surreal. Just hours ago, Kellin and I were fighting for our lives. Now, we were here—France. Safe. Or at least, safer than before.

Kellin shifts beside me, his injury keeping his movements slow. The bullet had grazed him, but the blood loss had been concerning. He had refused to rest on the flight, eyes sharp, fingers twitching for a weapon he no longer had. Even now, his jaw is clenched, muscles coiled, as if expecting an ambush at any moment.

Lucas, our mysterious savior, stands at the exit, his silhouette sharp against the dim runway lights. He nods once, a silent signal. It’s time.

The jet door hisses open, and cold night air rushes in. I shiver but step forward. A black luxury car idles at the bottom of the steps, its engine purring like a patient predator. The driver, dressed in an immaculate suit, doesn’t say a word as he holds the door open.

Lucas ushers us inside, and the car moves the second the door shuts. The silence inside is oppressive.

“Where are we going?” I finally ask.

Lucas glances at me through the rearview mirror. “To the one person who can help you.”

The drive is long, winding through narrow roads flanked by towering cypress trees. There’s a strange stillness here, an eerie quiet that keeps my pulse high and my senses alert. I glance at Kellin, who is watching our surroundings just as warily.

Then, through the fog of the night, the estate comes into view.

A château, grand and imposing, emerges from the darkness like something out of a forgotten fairytale. Ivy snakes up the limestone walls, moonlight catching on leaded glass windows. Wrought-iron gates part silently as we approach, revealing an expanse of manicured gardens, fountains glistening beneath the stars.

The car pulls to a stop at the marble steps. At the top stands a woman.

Vivienne Devereaux.

She watches us with the patience of someone who is never made to wait. Even in the dim light, I see her striking presence—silver hair neatly pinned, a silk blouse tucked into tailored trousers, her brooch catching the faint glow of the lanterns.

Lucas steps out first, nodding once before gesturing for us to follow.

Kellin tenses beside me. “You sure about this?” he mutters.

No. But what choice do we have?

I take a steadying breath and ascend the steps.

Vivienne’s piercing ice-blue eyes lock onto mine, sharp and assessing. I have never met her before, but the resemblance is undeniable. Those eyes—they are mine.

A beat of silence. Then—

“My sweet girl,” she murmurs, her voice carrying the weight of something unreadable. She lifts a hand, fingers barely grazing my cheek before pulling away.

“Come inside. We have much to discuss.”

The sitting room is elegant but intimidating. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves line the walls, the scent of aged paper and expensive perfume lingering in the air. A fire crackles in the ornate marble fireplace, casting flickering shadows across the room.

Vivienne moves with effortless grace, settling into a chair with the kind of authority that demands attention. I don’t sit. Not yet.

“I imagine you have many questions,” she begins, studying me closely. “But first, I must tell you why I brought you here.”

I say nothing, waiting.

She exhales, slow and measured. “I am dying, Jaelin.”

The words slam into me like a physical force.

I blink. “What?”

“Terminal cancer.” Her tone remains steady, as if she’s discussing a minor inconvenience. “The doctors give me one year at best.”

I struggle to process it. I don’t know this woman, not really. And yet, a strange knot tightens in my chest.

“I don’t need your sympathy,” she continues. “What I need is to secure my legacy before I’m gone.”

She gestures around us. “Devereaux Haute Couture. One of the most prestigious fashion houses in the world. I built it from the ground up, and I will not watch it fall into the wrong hands.”

I stiffen. “What does this have to do with me?”

She leans forward, her gaze unwavering. “I want you to take over the company.”

A stunned silence stretches between us.

I shake my head. “That’s… I don’t know anything about fashion. About running a business.”

“That’s why you’ll learn,” she says simply. “You’ll start from the bottom—just as I did. No favors. No shortcuts. You will work as an intern, and no one will know you are my granddaughter.”

My breath catches. She’s serious.

“Why?” My voice is barely above a whisper.

Vivienne’s lips curve into the faintest smile. “Because you are stronger than you realize. You survived Jonah’s world. You fought to escape. That tells me you have fire, Jaelin.”

I glance at Kellin. He meets my gaze and gives a single nod. “I’m staying,” he says, voice firm. “Wherever you go, I go.”

Something in me steadies at his words.

I turn back to Vivienne, exhaling slowly.

“I’ll do it.”

For the first time, her expression softens.

“Good.”

But there’s something else, something she’s not telling me.

“What about my mother?” I ask cautiously.

Vivienne’s face hardens. “Your mother,” she says with a coldness that could freeze fire, “made her choice long ago.”

A chill runs down my spine.

“She despises me, Jaelin. Always has. She wanted nothing to do with my fortune, my company, my name. She chose a life of resentment and mediocrity, turning her bitterness into an excuse for cruelty. I offered her everything, and she turned her back on me.”

I swallow, heart pounding. “So she gets nothing?”

“Not a cent,” Vivienne confirms. “And when she realizes I’ve left it all to you… she will hate you even more.”

The weight of her words settles over me. My mother already despised me—what would she do now, knowing I was inheriting the empire she once rejected?

I should be afraid. But instead, a sense of quiet resolve blooms in my chest.

I spent my life being pushed down, treated as nothing more than an inconvenience.

Not anymore.

I meet Vivienne’s gaze. “Then I’ll make sure I earn it.”

Vivienne’s smile is slow, approving.

“Then let’s begin.”

And just like that, my new life starts. A life where I am no longer just someone’s pawn.

I am becoming something more.