CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE – LUCIAN
The sun spilled gently through the tall glass windows, bathing the dining room in a warm golden glow. The table itself was a masterpiece polished mahogany stretching long enough to seat ten, its surface lined with crisp white linens and fine china that gleamed like pearls.
A faint aroma of freshly ground coffee and warm pastries floated in the air, mingling with the subtle scent of roses from the centerpiece a lavish bouquet that looked like it had been delivered at dawn.
Breakfast was no hurried affair here. Silver platters displayed an array of food that looked too beautiful to eat golden croissants, flaky and warm, a basket of artisanal bread, butter curls glistening like little suns. There were fresh fruits arranged like art strawberries, blueberries, papaya, and perfectly sliced melons, all glistening with dew.
A crystal pitcher of orange juice caught the light, and beside it stood a pot of herbal tea, its lid gently steaming. For the more indulgent, there were poached eggs resting on avocado toast, smoked salmon with capers, and tiny jars of imported honey and jam.
The atmosphere was calm, almost ceremonial. Conversations were quiet, polite the kind of measured talk that felt as curated as the table setting. Every sound the clink of silver against china, the distant hum of the house staff moving discreetly in the background carried a certain elegance.
It wasn't just breakfast. It was a ritual, a reminder of refinement and control, of a life where even the first meal of the day had to be perfect.
Breakfast at my parents' estate was always an event. Perfect china, quiet music playing somewhere in the background, and the faint sound of Aurora's laughter ringing down the hall as she rushed to the table.
"Lucian!" she called, launching herself into my arms the moment I stepped into the dining room.
I caught her easily, grunting softly at the impact. "Aurora," I said, trying and failing not to smile.
"You've been gone too long," she said, swatting at my shoulder before sliding into her chair.
Mother arched a perfectly shaped brow at me. "Your sister is right. You're never home. Always buried in the company or your private projects. It's been"
"Five years," Aurora finished for her, her tone playful but her eyes soft.
I stiffened but took my seat across from them.
Father folded his newspaper and looked at me directly. "You cannot live like this forever, Lucian. Work is not the only thing in a man's life."
Mother nodded in agreement. "You were not always this way. We know what happened with the engagement hurt you, but enough is enough. There are other women in the world."
I sipped my coffee, letting their words wash over me. If only they knew.
It wasn't the broken engagement that kept me up at night. It wasn't my ex-fiancée's betrayal that made me grind through sixteen-hour workdays just to silence my thoughts.
It was her.
The girl whose name I didn't even know.
The one I had found drugged and broken in that hotel room five years ago.
The one whose life I'd upended with one terrible, unchangeable night.
Aurora reached for my hand, her fingers warm against my knuckles. "You never talk about her, you know. The ex. Maybe that's what you need to talk about it."
I gently withdrew my hand and picked up my knife instead. "There's nothing to talk about."
Mother sighed, exchanging a look with Father. "You are too young to be this closed off, Lucian."
I didn't respond.
Silas was waiting by the car when I stepped outside. His sharp gray suit was slightly undone at the collar, his usual easy grin on his face.
"Survived breakfast?" he asked.
"Barely," I muttered, sliding into the back seat.
He started the engine, glancing at me in the mirror. "Let me guess. They brought up the ex again."
I didn't answer.
Silas smirked. "I'll take that as a yes."
He grew more serious after a moment, his tone dropping. "You know, if you ever want to tell them what really happened that night, you could."
I stared out the window at the passing cityscape. "And say what exactly? That their perfect heir was drugged, nearly lost control, and ruined a stranger's life? That I've been searching for her for five years because I don't know if she's alive, if she hates me, if"
I broke off, jaw tightening.
Silas didn't push further. He never did.
"You'll find her," he said quietly after a moment. "And when you do, maybe then you'll stop punishing yourself."
I didn't answer, because I wasn't sure if that was true.
Back at my office, I stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows, the skyline spread out before me like a challenge.
Five years.
Five years since everything changed.
And still, she haunted me.