Episode 8
1052 Words
The mansion stayed quiet long after Camille left.
Too quiet.
The kind of silence that didn’t mean peace, only restraint.
Lucien stood where he was, hands in his pockets, eyes fixed on the door as if calculating how long it would take before she tried something reckless.
Behind him, Brenda remained at the foot of the staircase.
Still. Watching.
Neither spoke.
The house staff had disappeared without instruction. They always did when things turned sharp. The walls of the Vale mansion had learned when to listen and when not to.
Lucien finally turned.
“Go to bed,” he said.
It wasn’t a suggestion.
It wasn’t concern.
It was dismissal.
Brenda met his gaze. Calm. Unflinching.
“That woman isn’t done,” she said.
Lucien’s mouth curved slightly. Not a smile. Something colder.
“She never is.”
He walked past her, close enough that his presence altered the air, then stopped, just once without looking back.
“You’ll learn,” he added, “that threats don’t announce themselves twice.”
He left her there.
———————————
The living room lights were low when Isadora arrived.
She never knocked.
Her heels echoed confidently against marble, her dress chosen not for modesty but intention sleek, expensive, and familiar to this house in a way no wife ever was.
Lucien didn’t look surprised.
“You’re late,” he said.
Isadora smiled as she dropped her clutch. “You’re married.”
“And?” His tone didn’t change.
She stepped closer, fingers brushing his sleeve as if testing heat. “You didn’t deny it.”
Lucien caught her wrist, not rough, not gentle but firmly.
“This isn’t affection,” he said quietly. “If you’re here to pretend it is, leave.”
Isadora’s smile sharpened.
“That’s why I like you,” she said. “You never lie in bed or out of it.”
He released her.
They stood close not touching yet, unmistakably aware of each other. The kind of tension that didn’t need movement to burn.
From the upper floor, a door closed softly.
Lucien’s eyes flicked upward for half a second.
Isadora noticed.
“So,” she said lightly, “this is the wife.”
Lucien’s expression darkened.
“This is none of your concern.”
“Everything you touch becomes my concern,” she replied. “Eventually.”
His gaze snapped back to her, cold and warning.
“Careful.”
She laughed under her breath. “She won’t last.”
Lucien stepped in, close enough that her words stalled.
“You don’t get to decide that.”
And with that he swept her off her feet with one swoop.
———————————-
The past stirs…
Across the city, a man watched footage paused on a screen.
Lucien Vale.
Wedding ring visible.
A woman beside him no one recognized.
The man exhaled slowly, amused.
“So,” he murmured, reaching for his phone, “the ghost finally chose a wife.”
He dialed.
“Find me everything about the woman,” he said. “Start with her name.”
The screen went dark.
—————————————
Back at the mansion, Lucien stood alone again, jacket discarded, sleeves rolled, expression unreadable.
Brenda watched him from the balcony above.
For the first time, she understood something clearly.
She hadn’t married just a billionaire.
She had married a billionaire with mistresses.
She laughed so hard because she still couldn’t understand how to get herself out of this mess before receiving her payment.
—————————————
Brenda was standing near the glass wall of Lucien’s study, waiting for him to finish a call, when the voices inside sharpened.
“You can’t keep hiding her,” a man said. Older, calm and Dangerous in a boardroom way.
“The market doesn’t like mysteries.”
Lucien didn’t raise his voice. He never did.
“My marriage is not a press strategy.”
“It became one the moment you married quietly,” another voice cut in. “Shareholders are uneasy.”
Brenda stepped back instinctively.
Then she heard it.
“The solution is simple,” the first man continued. “Bring her into the company.”
Silence.
Lucien laughed once. It was short but cold.
“You want my wife working under me.”
“We want visibility,” the man replied. “Control and stability. Let her serve as your Executive PA.”
Brenda was utterly stunned .
Lucien didn’t answer immediately.
When he did, his voice had changed.
“So you can watch me?” he said. “Or so you can watch her?”
Another pause.
“Both,” the man admitted.
Brenda didn’t wait to hear the rest.
She walked away quietly.
—————————————
Later that night Lucien found her in the living room, curled into one end of the couch with a book she wasn’t reading.
“You were listening,” he said.
She looked up. Didn’t deny it.
“They want me close,” she said. “Not for trust but for leverage.”
Lucien loosened his tie slowly.
“You don’t have to do this.”
Brenda studied his face. The calmness, the control. The weight of a man used to winning wars silently.
“And if I refuse?” she asked.
“They’ll find another way.”
That answer settled something in her.
She stood.
“Then I’ll do it,” she said.
Lucien’s jaw tightened. “You don’t know what you’re agreeing to.”
“I know exactly what I’m agreeing to,” she replied. “I’m agreeing not to be hidden.”
A beat.
Lucien stepped closer.
“This is not love so I’m not going to protect you,” he warned. “It’s exposure.”
Brenda met his eyes.
“I’m here for a contract and I will get paid no matter what. Stop acting like I’ll be in your company forever, it’s just for 6months,” she said as she felt relieved.
For the first time, Lucien looked… surprised.
Not impressed.
Not angry.
Just recalculating.
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