Chapter 2
1444 Words
I didn’t remember standing up.
I didn’t remember breathing.
All I remembered was the way the room spun when Damian said those words:
“Your father’s heiress.”
Heiress.
Like this was some billionaire romance plot and not my painfully average, grief-soaked life.
I stared at him, my mind tripping over itself. “I—I think there’s been a mistake. My father… he didn’t… he never…” I swallowed hard. “He wasn’t rich.”
Damian’s lips curved slightly, not quite a smile. More like he knew something I didn’t.
Something I wasn’t going to like.
“He was,” he said calmly. “Extremely.”
My heart thudded painfully. “What?”
Damian tapped the folder in front of me. “Your father owned several properties, investments, and shares in Moreau Holdings.”
Moreau Holdings.
As in — one of the most powerful real estate groups in Paris?
My breath caught in my throat. “Why would he own shares in your company?”
Damian’s gaze flickered, his expression tightening just slightly before smoothing back into that sharp, unreadable calm.
“It’s complicated.”
I hated that answer.
“Well… uncomplicate it,” I snapped before I could stop myself.
His eyes met mine — slow, intense, deliberate.
The kind of look that made my skin prickle and my chest tighten.
“Very well,” he said quietly. “Your father and my father built this company together.”
The floor seemed to tilt under my feet.
“My father?” I whispered. “He never told me that.”
“He wouldn’t have.”
Damian leaned back. “Your father chose to walk away from the company… and from my family. He disappeared for years.”
His jaw tightened. “No one knew where he went.”
A strange chill ran through me. “Not even you?”
His eyes darkened in a way I couldn’t read, pain? betrayal? Anger?
“No,” he said, voice low. “Not even me.”
My heart stuttered.
There was something personal in the way he said it. Something raw.
“Why did he leave?”
“If I had that answer,” Damian murmured, “you and I wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
He stood and walked to the window, the city lights outlining his silhouette. Paris stretched behind him like a painting , glittering, alive, loud.
He, on the other hand, felt like a storm.
I took a shaky breath. “So why call me here?”
He turned back to me, and for the first time, there was no coldness in his expression, only seriousness.
Almost… concern.
“Because your father left something behind,” he said. “Something important. And whether you wanted it or not, it now belongs to you.”
My pulse quickened. “What is it?”
Damian walked back to the table, picked up the folder, and opened it. Then he slid a photo forward.
A house.
No — not a house.
A mansion.
Tall glass windows. Stone pillars. Ivy crawling along the sides. A balcony overlooking what looked like acres of land.
It was beautiful.
Eerie.
Intimidating.
My stomach twisted. “What is this?”
“This,” Damian said softly, “is the Armand estate. Your father’s home. Now yours.”
I blinked at him, my voice barely a whisper. “My father never owned a house like this.”
“He didn’t live in it,” Damian replied. “But he kept it. Maintained it. Paid for it. And left it for you.”
I stared at the photo, my heart trembling.
Why?
The question echoed louder and louder in my skull.
“Why would he leave me something like this?” I murmured.
Damian’s gaze held mine for a long moment.
“Perhaps,” he said in a low voice, “because he wanted you to have something he couldn’t give you when he was alive.”
Silence filled the room , heavy, thick, suffocating.
I exhaled shakily. “Okay. So what do you need me to do?”
Damian gestured to a series of papers inside the folder. “You need to sign these documents to claim the estate officially. And… there’s more.”
Of course there was more. There was always more.
“More what?” I asked, bracing myself.
He hesitated, the first real hesitation I’d seen from him.
“The estate isn’t empty,” he said finally.
My brows knit. “What do you mean?”
“There are staff members living on the property. Employees your father kept on payroll. Security. Maintenance. Gardeners. A caretaker.”
Wait.
What?
“He paid for all that?” I whispered.
“Yes.”
Lucian paused. “And they’ve all been waiting for your return.”
My stomach flipped. “Return? I’ve never even been there.”
Damian’s expression softened just a fraction, like he’d touched a bruise inside me he didn’t mean to hit.
“I know,” he said. “But they don’t.”
A sharp breath left my lungs. “So you want me to go there?”
He nodded. “Just for a few days. To finalize things. To see it.”
See it.
Like it was simple.
Like it didn’t feel like stepping into a ghost.
“I don’t know if I can,” I whispered.
Damian’s eyes found mine, slow, steady, grounding.
“You can,” he said softly. “And you should. You deserve to see what your father left for you. You deserve answers.”
His voice.
Deep. Calm. Convincing.
It wrapped around me unexpectedly, like warmth seeping into cold fingers.
I looked down at the papers again. My name typed in bold letters. My father’s signature from years ago. Contracts. Numbers. Everything that didn’t feel like my life.
“What if I don’t go?” I asked quietly.
Lucian’s expression didn’t change for a moment. Then…
“Then his legacy stays locked away. And everything he left you… stays in the dark.”
My chest tightened.
The dark.
I’d been living in it for months.
Maybe… maybe it was time to step out.
I closed my eyes. “Okay. I’ll go.”
When I opened them again, Lucian was watching me with something I couldn’t name. Something intense.
“Good,” he said softly. “I’ll take you.”
I stiffened. “You’ll what?”
He sat down, folding his hands. “The estate is large. Complicated. Heavily secured. Going alone would be… unwise.”
“And you care because…?”
His eyes narrowed slightly, just a fraction.
“Because your father would have wanted you protected.”
My stomach dropped.
“Protected from what?” I asked quietly.
Lucian paused. Too long.
Way too long.
When he finally spoke, his voice was low.
“From whatever made him disappear in the first place.”
A shiver climbed down my spine.
“What do you mean?” I whispered.
He stood slowly, gathering the folder and straightening his suit with precision.
“I’ll explain on the way,” he said gently. “Pack a small bag. We leave in the morning.”
The room felt suddenly colder.
Bigger.
Scarier.
“I… okay,” I said, my voice small.
Damian nodded once, then offered his hand.
I stared at it.
Long fingers.
Precise movements.
A man who looked like he’d never shaken unless he wanted to.
After a shaky breath, I slid my hand into his.
His grip was warm.
Warm in a way I didn’t expect.
Warm in a way I hadn’t felt in months.
He helped me to my feet like I was something fragile. Something breakable. Something he didn’t want to risk dropping.
“Aria,” he said quietly.
I looked up.
“You’re not alone.”
Something in my chest cracked at his words.
Something I’d been holding together with grit and silence.
I pulled my hand back before he could see it breaking.
“I should go,” I whispered.
Lucian nodded. “I’ll have a car pick you up at eight.”
“Okay.”
I turned and walked toward the elevator, my steps shaky.
Just before I entered, he called out softly:
“Aria.”
I paused and looked back.
His eyes held mine — silver, sharp, unreadable.
“You’re stronger than you think.”
I swallowed hard. “I don’t feel like it.”
“You will.”
The doors closed between us.
And for the first time in months…
I felt something other than grief.
Fear.
Curiosity.
A pull toward a man I barely knew.
And beneath it all…
A strange, dangerous hope.
- Writer
- chap_listContents
- likeADD