Upon her return, the gates did not just close. They had sealed her fate. The massive iron bars slid together with a last, resounding clang that echoed through the night and sounded like a death sentence in Eva's chest. There was no way out but to turn around, she understood that.
It had never occurred before.
Fifteen years had passed since she left from this spot immediately her father had seized her hand and secretly ran away, he never looked back.
Changed identities, keeping silent, and passing through fifteen years.
Her time had finally come.
Back when Eva was a kid, not as a victim. but as something considered risky.
The car's tires slid over polished stone as it moved quietly down the long driveway. Towering hedges, neatly manicured and oddly calm, stood like solemn sentinels on either side.
The avenue was lined with unidentified, emotionless, unending marble statues. Compared to the families that lived here. Eva looked steadily out the window, her uncertain reflection on the glass.
She nearly lost her identity for a small moment.
The girl who had been scared of this spot had disappeared. However, the fear?
It stayed in place.
buried deep.
waiting.
Beside her, Damien replied, "Welcome home." He spoke in a controlled tone.
Too serene. Eva avoided eye contact with him. "I don't live here." It cost her more than she liked to confess, but her voice sounded solid.
Damien refrained from arguing. She felt more nervous about it than if he had.
The automobile neatly halted in front of the Laurent Villa. It was big, elegant, and chilly, exactly as she remembered.
Every window was lit with lights, providing the image of warmth, but Eva knew better. This place lacked warmth. Just control. Just power. Just regulations.
The door split. With their heads down in unison, a row of slaves waited in perfect synchronization. "Miss Laurent." She was smacked hard by the term.
Eva cautiously left the truck, taking her time with each step. They would notice if she displayed weakness right now.
And they would exploit it if they saw it. Her shoulders straightened. lifted her chin. moved forward.
As she moved into the villa, every foot resonated on the marble floor. Just the music was enough to bring back memories.
The muttering from behind closed doors. The chilly smiles. Her future was being bargained like a business deal that night. Her jaw stiffened.
Not now. "Come with me," Damien urged. Yes, she did. She didn't want to. However, she needed to know what she was facing.
They traveled through endless halls with limited light and costly artwork. Everything was designed to scare and impress. It continued to work. Two enormous doors stood open at the end of the hall. Eva decelerated.
As she was already aware of the person inside. Damien continued. So she didn't either.
She entered the space. and watched him. Laurent Victor. Her grandfather. The one who had issued the order to assassinate her father.
With his back to her, he stood by the window with his fists clinched behind him, as if he had expected her.
He had, of course. He was typically well-informed. "You've come back," he remarked. He spoke in a controlled tone. in control. Not worried.
Something inside Eva twisted. Victor turned and stated, "I didn't come voluntarily."
slowly.
purposefully.
His eyes met with hers, and suddenly she was ten years old once again, standing in this exact house, scared to breathe too loudly. sharp. frigid. harsh.
He remained the same. He said, "You are here." "That's what counts."
"No," Eva answered, increasing her voice in spite of herself. "The fact that you made me come here is what counts."
A tiny smile came on his face. "I took the required action." She balled her hands into fists. "You killed my dad."
There was stillness. heavy. inevitable. Victor, however, did not contradict it. "He made a decision." She was amazed by how basic his answer was.
"He picked me," Eva shouted. "And he made a decision that went against the family." They spoke as if they were facts. comparable to reality.
like something that was not able to argue about.
Her chest tightened. "And that implies that his death was justified?" "It implies that actions have consequences," Victor answered composedly.
There was a crack in her. "You refer to that as justice?" "I give that order." It felt chilly in the room. smaller.
As if the walls were growing closer. "I will never be a part of this,"
Eva murmured, her voice wavering now with wrath rather than fear.
Victor stepped in closer. Not fast. not antagonistic. but under control. Each motion was calculated.
"You are already."
"No."
"You are the final Laurent heir."
"I'm not interested in it."
"That has never been important."
More than anything else he had stated, the words struck a chord. Because, down within...
He meant them, and she knew it. Victor made a modest advance in Damien's direction. You're going to get married.
You'll take your seat. And you'll fix what your dad sought to wreck. Eva laughed fiercely. "You're wrong if you think I'll marry him."
For a minute Just a moment Victor's eyes blazed with something evil. After that, it was gone.
Calm took its place. "We'll observe the time of your disobedience."
Eva stared at him. refuse to pivot away. reluctant to break.
She replied, "I am not your weapon." Victor tilted his head a bit.
"No," he replied. "You are far more valuable than that."
A shudder sprinted down her back. He pivoted away from her before she could speak, dismissing her as if the topic was already done.
He said, "Take her to her room."
In that precise method. No disagreement. No discussion. An order.
What's the worst part? Everyone cooperated. Eva's chest tightened as she exited the room. Her mind were racing. This person was the reason her father had died.
Owing to this position.
They now predicted that she would enter the same cage and behave as if it were a throne. Damien followed quietly behind her.
She immediately stopped when they were far enough away from the main hall. She questioned, "Why didn't you stop him?" Damien paused.
He said, "You heard him." "He doesn't pay attention." "You had the option to try." "And run the risk of making your situation worse?"
She gazed up at him.
Her eyes were burning. "You're already exacerbating the situation."
His expression altered in some manner.
Short. subtle.
but genuine.
"You think I want this?" he muttered. "I believe you are involved."
He didn't deny it.
"I don't control it because of that." Eva gazed at him.
She noticed something beneath the surface for the first time. Not merely conceit. Not simply control. However, there's more.
Something was stuck. comparable to her. She responded, "I'm not staying here." Damien gazed at her. "Yes," he responded.
"You are." Her chest clenched at the certainty in his words. Not because she trusted him.
However, she was worried that he may be accurate.
One idea came to Eva that evening as she stood by herself in her bedroom, staring out over the enormous estate: She had not only gone back to the Laurent Villa.
She had a quarrel. Additionally, this time... It swirled around her.