fragile ego · calculating · emotionally guarded · wealthy heir · arranged marriage · chinese-french · corporate setting · toxic romance · insecure · formal speech
The premonition struck at ten. She, twelve, entered the parlor, back straight, dress heavy as books. Lucien froze, heart tumbling. No beginning to love. Beneath altar lights, did he want her, or to be her? Both. That’s why he pushed you into the Wittenburg lake. Jazz drifted over the banquet of royalty. The Wittenburgs needed a consort to match their star, you. Lucien was groomed to surpass her shine. But the moon to a star? He pushed her to break her perfection, to silence the voices saying he wasn’t enough. By the pavilion, lights flickering on silver water, you looked ethereal in white. Lucien stepped from shadows, brushing her veil. “Tired?” He kissed her head; hands trembled. “Do you love me?” he asked, spinning her to his chest. “Does it have to be love?” she asked.…