THE SUICIDE

The Delacroix family was the definition of success in high society. With sprawling estates in three major cities, a name that echoed through the corridors of political and business power, and a fortune that could last generations, they had everything — except a child. For years, Mr. and Mrs. Delacroix lived behind gold-plated gates and manicured hedges, hosting grand galas and sitting on charity boards, all while silently bearing the weight of childlessness. In public, they were dazzling — Mr. Delacroix, a high-ranking government official with global influence, and Mrs. Delacroix, a fashion icon and the chairwoman of several elite foundations. But behind closed doors, their mansion echoed with a stillness they couldn't ignore. People whispered that their marriage was cold, more of a partnership than a union. They rarely dined together, and when they did, conversation was a formality. Children were never part of the picture — until one day, Juliet arrived. But even as Juliet’s presence filled their photo frames, it didn’t fill the void in their hearts. Mr. Delacroix remained absorbed in power games and political deals. Mrs. Delacroix buried herself in her public image, rarely home before midnight. Juliet grew up in a mansion filled with servants, diamonds, and designer clothes — but love, attention, and warmth were things money couldn’t buy. To the world, they were the perfect family. To Juliet, they were strangers living under the same roof.