LOGINSeraphina’s POV
“Seraphina, are you listening to me?” Madame Vivienne’s voice rang out, startling me. I blinked, the world of the past fading away as the modern garden came back into focus. “Hmm… what were you saying?” I asked, trying to steady my breathing. “I was asking you if you were alright. You scared me for a second with the whole fainting thing,” she said, placing a firm hand on my shoulder. Her touchI stood in the middle of the library, the air thick with the smell of old parchment and the heavy weight of what was about to happen. I was waiting for Lucien to appear. We had all had a day of rest to recover from the bombshells dropped yesterday, but now it was time to get back into the thick of it. I sighed again for what felt like the hundredth time. “He is probably busy with something. He will be here soon,” Madame Vivienne said, her voice soft as she tried to reason with me. She was likely sensing my unrest; my heart was drumming a frantic rhythm against my ribs. “What’s taking him so long?” I voiced out, the annoyance evident in my tone. I did nothing to hide how I felt. I was tired of waiting, tired of being the piece on the board that everyone else moved around. Vivienne stood there staring at me, her expression patient. “Again, he will be here soon. Just give him time,”
“What do you mean?” Lucien asked, his brow furrowed in genuine puzzlement, as if I had just suggested the most absurd thing to exist on the face of the earth. “I wish to meet my mother. What’s so difficult to understand about that?” “No,” he said flatly. His voice was a wall of granite, leaving absolutely no room for argument or negotiation. “What do you mean, ‘no’?” I asked, stepping closer to him until I was deep in his personal space. I felt a familiar, hot rage boiling up in my chest, pushing against my ribs. “Don’t you understand? No is a full sentence,” he said. Without another word, he turned his back on me and left the room, his stride long and purposeful. “Seraphina, I don’t think that’s a good idea—wanting to visit your birth mother,” Madame Vivienne said softly. She moved toward me, her face tight with concern, trying to persuade me to give up on my quest for answers b
I woke up to a soul-splitting headache that felt like my skull was being ripped open. I couldn’t even find the words to describe the sensation; it was a rhythmic, agonizing throb that made every movement feel like a chore. The influx of morning sunlight pouring through the curtains did nothing to help. In fact, the brightness only intensified the pain, stabbing at my eyes. ‘I really hate mornings today,’ I thought, pulling the covers over my head. Usually, I would be up and about, tidying my things and minding my business, staying productive to keep my mind quiet. But today, I didn't want to get up. I just wanted to be one with my mattress, to sink into the fabric and disappear. The conversation from yesterday kept replaying in my head like a cursed record. The truth about where I came from—the Valentine blood, the Blackwood lineage, the twin brother I never got to hold. It hurt. I felt fresh tears prick at my eyes at th
My father was executed... by his? “Look, I know you may hate me for what my father did,” Lucien started to speak, his voice desperate to bridge the widening gap between us. “But that doesn't—” “Get out.” I cut him off before he could finish another word. The air in the room felt like it had been sucked out, replaced by a cold, suffocating vacuum. He looked hurt—genuinely wounded that I would dismiss him so easily—but I didn't have any sympathy left to give. “Seraphina, I know—” he tried again, taking a step toward me. “You don’t know anything, Lucien!” I screamed at him. The sound ripped from my throat. “You can’t even begin to fathom what I feel right now!” I could feel the agitation vibrating in my limbs, the power in my blood reacting to the sheer chaos of my heart. “My entire birth family is dead, and it’s thanks to your father,” I said, my voice wobbling on the final word. “So don’t you da
Seraphina’s POV “Seraphina, we need to talk.” Those were the first words Lucien uttered to me, his voice low and vibrating with a tension that matched the storm inside my chest. What did we need to talk about? How he sent people to try to kill me? Or how he had gone to make arrangements with his people for my demise? I stared at him, my grip on the door handle so tight my knuckles were white. I felt like I was looking at a stranger wearing the face of the man I had started to trust. “We have nothing to talk about,” I said coldly. I looked directly into his eyes, checking to see if he would fluster or turn away, but he held my gaze with a haunting intensity. He looked... exhausted. “Yes, we do, Seraphina,” he said, letting out a long, heavy sigh. “Can I come in?” He asked quietly, looking down at me. Up close, he looked like a man who had carried the weight of the entire world on his back for fa
I stared at Madame Vivienne in total shock, as if she had suddenly grown two separate pairs of heads, making it three. The words coming out of her mouth were so absurd they felt like a fever dream. “What do you mean, Seraphina and I are the reincarnations of Alaric and this ‘Serene’ woman?” I asked, my voice thick with disbelief. I couldn't fathom how such a thing was even possible. My mind was racing, trying to find a logical explanation for the madness. “It is a hypothesis, Lucien. I am going on the facts provided by what Seraphina experienced,” she explained calmly. “What she saw… or more like what that woman ‘wanted’ her to know,” I countered. I wasn't ready to accept that my soul was tied to a man who had committed such atrocities. “What she wanted her to see to manipulate her against me.” “What makes you think so?” she asked, feeling another wave of bone-deep tiredness wash over me. The
Just as expected, another round of rejections came in the mail. I shouldn't have been surprised by this, but it still hurt—a dull, persistent ache in my chest that added to the fact I was already mentally down. I sat on the edge of the bed, the blue light of the phone screen reflecting in my eyes as
I had been stuck here for almost a week, and every passing hour made the walls feel like they were closing in. Staying indoors was a dreadful, suffocating experience. I had essentially barricaded myself in the guestroom to avoid Lucien, and thankfully, he seemed to have taken the hint. He left me
The ride into the heart of the city was unlike anything I had experienced back home. Lucien was transformed. The brooding, silent man at the Estate had vanished, replaced by a man who seemed revitalized by the very air of France. He spoke incessantly, filling the cabin of the car with
The transition from consciousness was like being pulled through thick, dark honey. When I finally drifted awake, I wasn't met by the familiar decorated celling of the estate walls or the faint smell of flour from my old life. Instead, I was in another room entirely. It was unfamiliar, bathed in a







