The Devil's Game

CHAPTER 4

.....

Lucian sat behind his desk, staring at a picture frame before him. His eyes shifted between the photo and the wedding planner standing nervously on the other side.

The woman’s voice was distant in his mind, a background hum he barely registered. His focus was elsewhere. In the far past, to be specific. When he had yet become the director the city of Divmas knew so well.

At a point his eyes remained fixed on the photograph, a finger rubbing the frame delicately.

The picture was faded with age, but there was no mistaking the resemblance between the teenage girl in it and Ayra.

They had the same eyes, the same fragile set to their lips - the type that made you want to let her cry on your shoulder for all eternity. There was a resemblance but that was all.

The girl in the photo was still in her teens; thirteen, perhaps fourteen years old. The difference between her and the fully grown Ayra was rather stark.

The wedding planner, a middle-aged woman, was going over last-minute details. "The ceremony will begin at sunset, just like you requested, Mr. Cyrus. The floral arch has white roses, and the seating—”

Lucian raised a hand, stopping her mid-sentence without even looking up. For a few seconds he didn't speak and the planner hesitated, clearly thrown off. No one wanted to mess up around Lucian. He knew, and he found it oddly amusing every time.

"No white roses," he said smoothly, his voice low and steady. He leaned back slightly, fingers lightly tracing the edge of the photo frame. "She doesn't like them. Make them pink."

The planner blinked, surprised, but nodded quickly. “Of course, Mr. Cyrus. I’ll have them changed immediately.”

Lucian’s fingers tapped lightly against the polished wood of the desk as he nodded, signaling to the planner to continue, though he barely listened to the specifics.

His thoughts drifted, his gaze still locked on the picture. There was something unresolved in his expression - something intense that was hidden beneath layers of control.

In more ways than one, his decision to give Ayra till the 28th was also for him to have the space to come to terms with what was happening.

Facing Ayra days prior had brought to the surface some inexplicable nervousness and anxiety that just continued to grow whenever he thought about the upcoming wedding.

Everything was not alright, he knew, and the investigations were not conclusive, but he dearly hoped it would be.

The door creaked open, and one of his men stepped inside. Nico, a rather burly man Lucian trusted. His presence meant something was up. But Lucian wasn’t the type to get rattled. Nico could interrupt without worrying too much.

Lucian’s gaze shifted from the photo to Nico, his expression questioning.

“Sir,” Nico began tension in his gravelly voice, “there’s something you need to know. It’s about Ayra.”

At her name, Lucian’s fingers paused over the frame. His grip tightened for just a second. He tilted his head, just slightly, curiosity sparking briefly under his calm exterior.

“Go on,” Lucian said, his voice soft but dangerous.

Nico cleared his throat, glancing at the wedding planner. He wasn’t sure if he should continue in front of her, but Lucian gave a small nod. Permission granted.

“She tried to run away last night,” Nico said. “Our people within the Russo mansion security confirmed that she had managed to do so before Ferdinand brought her back.”

Lucian didn’t react right away. The room felt heavier and quieter. The wedding planner stood there, frozen, completely out of place. Lucian’s gaze returned to the photo. His mind worked through the information, calculating.

“Is she at the mansion right now?” he asked, his tone light like Nico had just given him an update on the weather.

“Yes, sir. But she’s arguing with Ferdinand and asking a lot of questions. I don’t think she’s planning to stay put.”

Lucian exhaled, leaning back in his chair, fingers tapping the armrest. He glanced briefly at the wedding planner.

“You can go,” he said, dismissing her with a wave of his hand. She didn’t hesitate, hurrying out of the room like her life depended on it.

Once the door shut behind her, Lucian’s demeanor shifted. His calm turned sharper, more focused. He stood up, adjusting his suit jacket, and moved around the desk.

“She’s testing her limits,” he said, mostly to himself, staring out the window at the city skyline. It stretched out in front of him like his personal empire.

“Do you want us to do something, boss?” Nico asked.

Lucian’s lips curled into a thin, cold smile. “No need. Let her think she’s in control. Most people see Isabella and think her dumb. Pliant.” He scoffed.

His eyes drifted back to the photo of the girl who looked so much like Ayra. He traced the edge of the frame with his thumb, lost in thought. “She won’t leave me,” he said softly, but there was no doubt in his voice.

A buzz from his phone pulled his attention back. He glanced at the screen. A reminder from his lawyer: the final clauses of the marriage contract would be signed tomorrow.

He blinked, the gears of his mind grinding.

"How goes the investigations?" He asked.

"Nothing new," Nico replied. "The detectives are still hammering away at it."

“Make sure the mansion is secure,” Lucian ordered all business again. “No one gets in or out without my say. Not even Ferdinand.”

His fingers tapped a rhythm along the edge of the photo frame, the old picture staring back at him with memories that should have been buried. “She may try to run again,” he said softly, almost to himself.

He sat back down, his expression now cold and unreadable, eyes drifting back to the photograph. “But if she does,” he added, his voice turning steel-hard, “I want everyone to be ready.”

Nico nodded and left the room, leaving Lucian alone with his thoughts. He reached for the photograph, picked it up and held it closer to his face.

His thumb brushed over the girl's features - features that echoed in Ayra’s face now, whether she realized it or not.

“You were just as stubborn,” he murmured to the photo, his voice low and nostalgic. "Isa.”