The air in the room felt heavy with the weight of impending confession as Eleanor stood before me, her eyes searching mine for answers she feared to find.

I was back at my family mansion, along with Raphael and Uncle Dylan. I asked Eleanor to come here. 

She was coming here because it was ending.

It was all ending.

We were ending.

And I don't know what I'll do after she's gone.

I have even forgotten how to breathe without her, let alone live a life without her.

She was my everything.

Every fucking thing.

But more than myself, I am more concerned about her.

How can I tell her that I chose Serafina over us because I had to and it was inevitable.

We have dated for 2 years now.

We met on a rainy evening in Paris. I, fresh from a successful deal, decided to unwind at a hidden jazz club.

As the pianist began to play, my eyes landed on a woman reading alone at a corner table. Intrigued, I approached and asked to join her. 

She introduced herself as Eleanor Walton from London.

She was a post-graduation student at Sorbonne University at that time.

Over the following months, our bond deepened. Eleanor became my anchor, offering a fresh perspective on life, while I became her protector. 

Our relationship blossomed, each finding strength and solace in the other, forging a deep connection amidst our respective worlds.

But now everything has come to an end.

I knew what I had to do, what I needed to tell her, but the words stuck in my throat like bitter pills.

"Eleanor," I began, my voice barely above a whisper, "there's something I need to tell you."

Her gaze never wavered as she nodded, her eyes betraying a hint of apprehension.

"What is it, Lucien? How did the meeting go?" she asked, her voice soft and tentative.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the pain I was about to inflict. "I'm getting married," I confessed, the words leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.

Eleanor's reaction was immediate—a sharp intake of breath, followed by a stunned silence that seemed to stretch on for eternity.

"Married?" she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. "But...to whom?"

I couldn't bring myself to meet her gaze as I spoke the name that felt like a betrayal on my lips.

"To Serafina," I admitted, the weight of my confession hanging heavily in the air between us.

Eleanor's reaction was swift and visceral, her pain palpable as it washed over me like a tidal wave.

"But what about us, Lucien?" she demanded, her voice rising with emotion. "What about our love?"

I reached out to her, my hand trembling as I brushed a stray tear from her cheek.

"Eleanor, you know how much you mean to me," I insisted, my voice thick with emotion. "But this...this marriage is necessary for the safety of our families, for the peace of our world."

Eleanor pulled away from me, her eyes filled with hurt and betrayal.

"I can't do this, Lucien," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the sound of her sobs.

"I can't watch you marry someone else, knowing that it's not me."

My heart shattered at the pain in her voice, the knowledge that I was the cause of her suffering, tearing me apart from the inside out.

"Eleanor, please," I pleaded, my tears threatening to spill over. "I love you more than anything in this world. But this...this is something I have to do."

But Eleanor shook her head, her tears flowing freely now as she struggled to comprehend the depth of my betrayal.

"I can't," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the sound of her sobs. "I can't be a part of this."

With a heavy heart, she rose from her seat, her body shaking with emotion as she made her way to the door.

"Goodbye, Lucien," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the sound of her sobs. "I hope you find the happiness you seek."

And with that, she left me alone in the room, her departure leaving behind a void that seemed impossible to fill.

Eleanor left. Now, my life is back in its dark phase. Her intoxicating smile, once the reason for my happiness, is now a memory haunting my every thought.

I never cried until now.

I got what I wanted, and did what I wanted to, but the one thing that was supposed to be my constant, my forever, I pushed it away.

No, these duties and the damn Mafia took it away.

I took a swig from my flask, hoping the bitter burn of the amber liquid could drown some of my pain. I'm on my 6th drink, and nothing like that is happening.

"This can help," a sudden female voice came from behind.

"Serafina," I acknowledged her, my hand tightening around the flask.

"Have it, it's the best for pain," she said as she handed me a cold coffee with ice cream, topped with a dagger-shaped chocolate. Her hand lingered on mine for a moment, a silent gesture of comfort.

Do people sell chocolate molds of such shape?

"Come on, have it. I won't tell anyone that the future leader of the French Mafia drinks cold coffee when hurt," she teased, her lips curling into a faint smile.

As I sat there, nursing my drink, Serafina's presence offered a strange sense of comfort amidst the turmoil raging within me.

"Sometimes, the sweetest things can ease the bitterest pain," she remarked, her voice tinged with empathy.

"How do you know that I am hurt?" I asked, my eyebrows furrowing in surprise.

"We have known each other for twenty-one years," she reminded me, her eyes reflecting a depth of understanding that caught me off guard.

That's true.

I took a sip from the tall glass. It's good. It's sweet, with a slight dominant taste of coffee, and the caramel flavor at the end is just mind-blowing.

"How is it?"

"It's good."

"Finish it, I'll see you downstairs, I, Sylvain and Dylan are having a shooting competition. I need you to beat their asses.," she said, her tone gentle yet firm.

"Pearl."

"Yes?"

"You won't ask me about what happened?"

"You can tell me whenever you want. We're going to have a lot of time together now," she reassured me, her hand resting on my shoulder in a silent show of support.

As I sat there, alone with my thoughts and the weight of my decisions, I couldn't help but wonder if I had made the right choice—if sacrificing my happiness for the sake of duty was truly worth the pain it had caused.

The Beauchene Mansion had always been my definition of heaven. 

Unlike the Moretti family's love for extravagance and bold accents, the Beauchene embraced minimalist elegance, with its French Gothic architecture weaving an intricate tapestry of timeless beauty. 

Its towering spires, grand arches, and delicate carvings whispered of a serene charm that I had come to adore.

And now, I would not only be visiting—I would be living here, as Lucien's wife.

I couldn't believe it—I was going to marry Lucien. Not Alessandro. 

The weight that had been pressing down on me, the dread of my impending marriage to that man, was now gone. 

In its place was something light and bright, fluttering inside me, making me want to laugh with relief and happiness. 

Lucien, the man who had been my protector, my confidant, the one constant in my life that made sense, would now be my husband. 

It was almost too good to be true. 

My heart raced with the sheer joy of it all, and I couldn't help but giggle at the thought. 

A little voice in the back of my mind reminded me that Lucien didn't love me the way I loved him, but I pushed it aside. 

That didn't matter—yet. I would make him love me. 

How could he not? We already understood each other on a level most people could only dream of. 

And now, with this marriage, we'd be together all the time. I would show him how much he meant to me, and how I could be everything he needed. Eventually, he would see. He would realize that I was the one for him.

I twirled around in the hallway as I made my way to his room, feeling giddy with excitement. 

He probably needed some fresh air—no doubt he'd been locked up in his room, brooding over whatever had happened with Alessandro and in the morning meet-up. 

But now? Everything had changed. I could picture the surprise on his face when I told him how perfect things were going to be. 

Lucien may have agreed to this marriage out of duty, but I would turn it into something real. 

I could already imagine the life we'd have together. 

We'd wake up in this mansion every morning, the sunlight filtering through the large, arched windows.

We'd share breakfast in the grand dining room, and talk about our plans for the day, and slowly, day by day, he'd start to see me as more than just his father's friend's daughter. 

I would show him that love wasn't something to be afraid of. 

That together, we could create something stronger, something lasting. 

He'd been hurt in the past—I knew that much. 

But I would be different. I would be the one who stayed, the one who supported him, the one who loved him unconditionally.

I couldn't stop smiling as I thought of all the ways I'd make him fall for me. 

I'd fill our days with laughter and joy, be there for him when he needed me the most, and prove that no one could understand him like I did. 

Lucien was everything to me, and now I had the chance to show him that he could be everything to me, too.

I reached his door, my heart pounding with excitement. He was in there, probably unaware of just how much his life was about to change. 

Lucien might not have realized it yet, but he was about to fall in love—with me.

His door was ajar, and I could hear voices. Of him and a girl.

As I stood there, hidden in the shadows, my heart shattered into a million pieces with each word exchanged between Lucien and his girlfriend. 

For five long years, I had loved him silently, from the depths of my soul, hoping against hope that one day he would see me the way I saw him.

But watching their breakup unfold before my eyes felt like a cruel twist of fate, a reminder of the love I could never truly have. 

A pang of guilt washed over me. Here I was, overjoyed at the prospect of marrying Lucien, while his world was falling apart. 

I felt like an intruder in their moment, a selfish girl dreaming of a fairy tale while reality was anything but.

Every word, every gesture between them was like a stab to my heart, tearing apart the fragile threads of hope that had kept me going all these years.

Part of me wanted to confront Lucien, to scream out my love for him for all the world to hear. 

But deep down, I knew that it wouldn't change anything. His heart belonged to that woman, and no amount of pleading or begging could ever change that.

So instead, I stood in silence, my heart breaking with each passing moment, as I watched the man I loved struggle with his demons. 

I wanted to reach out to him, to offer him comfort and solace in his time of need, but I knew that I could never fill the void left by that woman's absence.

Quietly, I slipped away from my hiding spot, my footsteps barely making a sound as I made my way to the kitchen. 

With steady hands, I prepared a cold coffee with ice cream, knowing it was one of Lucien's favorites.

I added a dagger-shaped chocolate on top, a small nod to the dangerous world we lived in, where love and danger often walked hand in hand.

Returning to the room where Lucien sat, lost in his thoughts, I offered him the drink, hoping it would bring him some measure of comfort.

"Here, have it. It's the best for pain," I said softly, my heart aching for him.

He looked up at me with surprise, gratitude shining in his eyes as he accepted the drink. "Thank you, Perle," he whispered, his voice barely above a whisper.

I nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "Finish it, I'll see you downstairs, me Sylvain and Dylan are having a shooting competition. I need you to beat their asses." I said and smiled at him before turning to leave the room.

With a heavy heart, I turned away, tears streaming down my cheeks as I made my way out of the room. 

The pain of unrequited love weighed heavily on my soul, a burden I would carry with me for the rest of my days, a silent testament to the depth of my feelings for Lucien.