A Few Days Later — Lucien's Residence
The garden behind Lucien's modern glass estate was a calm retreat—roses, lavender, and manicured grass winding around stone paths and benches. A soft breeze rustled the hedges.
Valerie sat on one of the benches, hugging her knees, the sunlight kissing her pale skin. The bruised heaviness under her eyes hadn't left since she arrived. She was still dressed plainly, hair tied back, and face bare of makeup. Her eyes were distant, faraway. But here, in the quiet, she found a fragment of peace.
She didn't notice the tall figure approaching until his shadow fell over her.
"Good afternoon," came the voice—gravelly, powerful, aged.
She turned, startled.
Alistair Blackmoor.
She didn't know him, but his presence demanded attention.
"You must be the girl," he said with rare softness. "He always did like to keep things to himself."
Valerie blinked. "I—I'm sorry?"
"I was wondering when Lucien would finally bring someone home."
She stood up. "No, sir. I think you've mistaken me for someone else."
Alistair waved a hand and walked past her.
"I'll have the family lawyer contact you soon," Alistair added, already pulling out his phone. "It's best we do the paperwork before the media hears anything."
"What paperwork?" she asked, alarm rising in her chest.
But he didn't answer. Just nodded to the guards and left as swiftly as he'd arrived.
---
That Evening — Rosie Blackmoor's Penthouse
"What do you mean he's marrying someone?" Rosie's shriek pierced the room.
She stood in her dressing room, phone clutched to her ear, red silk robe flowing behind her. Diamond earrings swung violently as she paced.
A voice came through the phone, calm and final. "He met her today and have decided to make arrangements plans for the wedding."
"He's making a mistake," Rosie hissed. "Try dallying him a bit so I can come up with something."
"Yes Mrs Blackmoor."
Rosie threw the phone across the room, and it shattered against the wall.
---
Back at Lucien's Mansion — Later That Night
Lucien entered his home and loosened his tie, irritation lingering from the dinner days before.
His assistant met him at the door, looking breathless. "Sir… your grandfather came by earlier."
Lucien stopped in his tracks. "What?"
"He… met Valerie."
Lucien's blood turned cold. "What did he say to her?"
"He mistook her for… your girlfriend."
Silence.
"And he's… apparently planning a wedding."
Lucien blinked.
"What?" His voice dropped to a dangerous growl.
"Yes. He's already contacted the family lawyer. The media will be informed within the week."
Lucien's fist clenched so tightly the veins in his arm strained.
He turned slowly, storming off down the corridor toward Valerie's room.
And as the hallway lights flickered behind him, a storm brewed in his mind.
Because if Valerie was lying… this just became her most dangerous game yet.