His Broken Obsession

Present past

"Heiress, The young master desires your presence. "

"Huh?" Marguerite's head snapped up in shock. Her eyes darted around the room, searching for the one being addressed, only to find a girl dressed in plain clothes staring straight at her.

"Heiress are you alright" the maid asked, her brows furrowed in concern.

Marguerite lifted a trembling hand to her neck. No scar. Not even the faintest trace of the wound she was certain should be there.

Her mind reeled. Why was she here? Why was she still breathing? She had been sure..so sure, that it was over.

Why?

"Heiress, should I call the family doctor?" The maid’s voice was tinged with growing panic.

When Marguerite remained silent, the young maid hesitated for only a moment before hurrying out of the room.

Marguerite barely registered her departure. Her thoughts, a whirlwind of confusion.

Henri never allowed anyone to see her, And no one has called her heiress in years.

Glancing around, the room looked strange, violet and yellow wallpapers, blue beddings, even the furniture was different, her eyes caught a glowing character on the wall and she couldn't help but walk up to it.

Tracing the neon lit letters, the word slipped from her lips.

"SAND MARBLES"

Frowning, she repeated the words again and again, then her eyes widened in realization as she connected the dots.

She swiftly turned around her eyes sweeping through the room again.

This.... This was her room decor when she was just twenty two, no wonder it felt so familiar, every thing here from the wallpaper to the furniture even the tiniest detail, like the alarm clock by the side of the bed that was shaped like a guitar, with black bold numerals and hands.

She had fallen in love with the band —Stone cushions in her early twenties and had redecorated her room to match their aesthetics.

That was why she had the title of her favorite song displayed on her bedroom wall.

But all of this were gone, thrown away when she had moved on to another trend and revamped the room. So why was it all here again?

....and in the cage she had tried to escape.

Hearing the sound of footsteps, she turned to find that the maid had returned and was currently staring at her weirdly.

"Heiress, the head maid has gone to get the doctor he'll be here soon." the maid informed Marguerite, her heart beating fast.

The heiress was behaving abnormally since she woke up, she was always in a daze her eyes confused and dulled, very unlike the exuberant and full of life lady she knew.

Marguerite still didn't say a word. She just stared quietly at the maid.

The young maid bit her lips, distress and fear evident in her voice "Heiress...is something wrong, please say something, you are scaring me"

Marguerite knit her brows in confusion, this wasn't the maid that Henri had assigned to her before.

Her former maid was an efficient but cold middle aged lady, but this one was young and from what she have seen, very emotional.

She had large eyes with very light hazel pupils that gave her an innocent look.

Staring blankly at the maids face ,she couldn't help but recall someone from her past.....someone she had let down, this maid looked just like a younger version of her.

Her lips let loose of that name, one that she had locked away in her heart.

"Ava?"

But it brought her to a place in her memory she was afraid to visit. Those voices in her head still haunted her.

She could hear still hear the screaming in the distance, that figure trapped under those men.

But she was weak......too weak to help.

Her vision blurred, and the screaming in her mind became deafening.

Desperation clawed at her chest as she fought against a grip that held her in place, but those voices, those disgusting, taunting voices, kept her trapped in the nightmare.

The men's leering faces, their outstretched arms reaching towards her.

She screamed in fear and panic, wide eyed" N–no don't–don't come closer...."

Kicking and pushing, she felt the arm around her tighten, stopping her from moving.

Tears and snot ran down her face, her cries growing hoarse as her body lost strength.

The leering men grew bigger and bigger their smile stretched figure like lumpy tentacles reaching towards her, about to devour her.

Then suddenly, the grip on her arm softened, the oppressive air around her seemed to recede.

The screams from within her head went quiet, replaced by......a soft lull.

Her breaths came in ragged gasps, and through the haze, she felt warmth, a comforting presence.

Someone was speaking to her. The voice was gentle and unfamiliar, yet there was a tone of concern that broke through the storm in her mind.

"Marguerite....."

Her body tensed, but as she slowly opened her eyes, she saw blurred figures standing over her, no longer threatening builds, but concerned faces, soft and compassionate.

Someone gently lifted her head, their touch cool against her feverish skin.

The fog in her mind began to lift, and she blinked, struggling to focus on the people around her.

Feeling the questioning stares, she smiled weakly to signify she was fine, but instantly stiffened when her eyes settled on an elderly face.

Hesitantly, with disbelief thick in her voice, she whispered. "Mémé?"

The older woman smiled at her, concern lacing her tone "Loulou, what happened? I was worried."

Marguerite's lips trembled " Mémé...."

Tears welled in her eyes as she reached out, fingers trembling, but just inches from the woman's wrinkled yet beautiful face she stopped.

'What if this isn't real, what if she is just another cruel illusion.'

Clenching her hands, she let it fall to her side. She was afraid...afraid that if she touched her, she would disappear... just like in her dreams.

Confused at her actions, the elderly lady frowned and placed a warm hand on Margarita's head.

"Loulou, are you good? Ava told me that you weren't well, so I brought the doctor."

Feeling the woman's firm and calloused hands on her head, Marguerite stiffened, but her shock intensified on hearing the name–Ava

She turned to the maid who had been pleading just moments ago.

Ava?

No—this wasn't a memory.....it was the present!

"Heiress, what's wrong with you, tell the doctor so he can help you" the young maid begged, tears spilling down her cheeks....she was still shocked from her mistress actions today.

Hearing her words, Marguerite finally reacted, fierce anger, not fear, rushing through her.

What was this sick game Henri was playing? Tricking her? Paying people into playing as her family, now she understood why she was called heiress, why her room looked like that.

But all for what?

Did he think this would make her forgive him, Even his death would not restore the lives he had destroyed.

Jerking up in anger, she stormed out of the room, ignoring the maid's frantic calls.

"Heiress, wait! You are still in your nightclothes"

Marguerite didn't care, her strides long and hurried yet quiet on the carpeted floor.

The hallways were large and winding with twist and turns but somehow she knew them like the back of her hands.

Slowing to a stop, she looked around, this wasn't the house Henri locked her in. This house looked like...an exact replica of her family home.

Or...was it?

Confused she turned in her steps, the maid's words ringing in her head 'The young master desires your presence....'

Henri was never called young master. it was either Master or Sir, never Young master.

Her gaze drifted to the passing workers. Their uniform proudly showcasing the beautifully embroidered crow attached to the back, it was her family's unique design.

And Their faces.....

A unsettling thought couldn't help but rise in her heart.

All this people, they were the same people who worked for her family. Henri couldn't have possibly rehired them or found their look alike.

She rubbed her neck again, the smooth skin messing with her head. Even if she had been in a coma, a scar or a mark should have remained.

An unbelievable theory was gaining roots in her head.

"Marguerite?" A familiar voice called out, casual and teasing.

Marguerite spun on her heels, her stomach giddy at her thoughts.

The owner of the voice was someone she knew or had known. It was Lily, one of the sous chefs in her family's house and the only worker who dared to called her by her first name.

Marguerite frowned, what was happening?

"I saw a parade march to your room, did something happen? " Lily asked, in an amused yet concerned tone.

Before Marguerite could say a word, Lily's eyes lit up. "Oh. The young master is here, seems like he heard the news too."

Marguerite felt her heart race faster than ever, young master?

There was only one young master she knew.

She turned around slowly, coming face to face with someone she thought she would never see again in her lifetime.

It was a young man sporting a buzz cut, his blond hair barely raising past his scalp, he had a straight nose with an inverted triangular shaped jawline.

But his most standout feature was his eyes–deep blue eyes so mysterious, it could charm one's soul. And now those eyes were staring at Marguerite with concern swimming in it's depth.

Her eyes went wide with shock. Watching him approach, she held her breath, her skin tingling till she heard his voice.

"Adèle? I heard you were not feeling good. Are you alright?" the young man inquired, his brows knotted as he clasped her shoulders, his eyes scanning her appearance.

Seeing him, hearing his voice, feeling his warmth.

It was all too much.

Waves of emotions crashed over her, disbelief, fear, happiness.

Her vision blurred as tears welled up in her eyes.

"Brother....." She barely whispered.

Her breathing came fast and hot, her head heavy, as her view titled , the world fading to black.

Her last thoughts before she succumbed to unconsciousness was,

'How?'