.....once again, ex-model Adrien Agreste has really outdone himself in giving the public an insight into the heirs of the royal family.

Alya Césaire.

Adrien smiled as he read the recent article documenting the last organized shoot.

Juleka's sessions had always seemed to place him in a better frame of mind. He just hoped that Chloé would be willing to admit she needed some assistance.

See if you can bring her along next time, and as always, if she doesn't want to be here, that's fine.

He remembered the woman's words right before he left her office and sighed as he looked at the frame with a photo of Chloé blowing a kiss.

"Come in." He called as he absentmindedly fingered his wedding band.

"Sweetheart?"

He gasped when he met the gaze of an older woman. "M-mom? W-what are you doing here?"

Emilie perked a blonde brow at his dumbfounded reaction. "Uh, I work here?" She chuckled, and he rose to his feet with his arms open wide.

The woman laughed as she patted his back. "Darling, you know, I'm not as young as I used to be. You're going to crush these old bones."

Flushed with embarrassment, he looked away and tried to think of an apology. But her comforting laugh warmed his heart.

They didn't need to communicate to know that he needed her, and so she patted the couch as she sank into it, welcoming him into the warm embrace of the arms he had come to love in the last twenty-seven years of his life.

Emilie rubbed her hands against his white dress shirt, comforting him in the way he appreciated most.

Physical touch.

"You need to say something?"

He sighed. "I—I feel like I've failed you, ma. I know how much you've wanted—"

"You haven't failed me, Adrien."

"But—"

"Stop that nonsense this instant." She cupped his cheeks and furrowed her brows.

Now that they were inches apart, she could see how sickly pale his skin looked and how the concealer had failed to hide the dark circles brimming under his eyes.

"My dear boy, although it's almost every parent's dream to see their grandbabies, it's not the only thing we're looking forward to. We want to see our children healthy, happy and free of worry, and if those are being sacrificed for the need to have a child, then it's not worth it."

Adrien lifted his gaze to his mother's slightly wrinkled face. "Please don't think any less of yourself because of this road block. You'll find a solution, I know that great mind of yours will. "

She placed a kiss on her son's cheek and gave a warm smile.

He just figured out what to do to help his wife.

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Chloé furrowed her blonde brows as her eyes took in the sight of her home, while her right leg kicked the grand white door shut. It was odd. Usually there would've been a swarm of the house keepers at her feet wanting to know how to please their mistress, but they were nowhere to be found.

"Maggie?" She drawled out as she kicked off her heels and scoffed at the lack of response, or rather the silence that greeted her.

Her tongue clicked against her teeth as her nylon-covered feet moved her from the main doors to the top of the grand white stairs, a pair of black heels in one hand and a yellow hand bag in the other.

"Adrien did you—what's this?"

Chloé stepped into their bedroom with a somewhat irritated look on her face as she took in the part-bedroom, part-massage room?

A scoff fell from her lips, arms tucked under her breasts, as her gaze moved from the bottled oils on the small wooden table to the scented candles taking up space on the dresser—aka, the home of her favorite jewelry pieces.

She didn't even want to linger her attention on the grey basalt stones seated in a brown bowl. And where the hell was her favorite couch?

Adrien perked a brow at the look on her face. He did not cancel his appointments for the day for her to not appreciate his efforts.

"How was the day?" He asked and she swallowed once she felt her husband's presence behind her, his hands idly resting on her hips.

The blonde woman gulped when he began massaging slow circles on her bare patch of skin just beneath her camisole. "The usual," she mumbled as she took off her bracelets, her earrings following right after. "There was a lot of paperwork that needed to be signed, and we got a new building proposal."

"What about?" He asked as he helped her out of the yellow jacket. Blood flooded her cheeks as she felt him kneel behind her, tugging the black pants down to her ankles.

Thank God for good underwear choices.

"Well, one of the leaders of the southern district is proposing a new education center for disabled children, which is good, but we can't sponsor the project, hence my need to take it up with the president a week from now." Her arms hung lazily around Adrien's bare shoulder as she stood in nothing but her lace underwear and a white spaghetti strapped camisole.

She looked around. "Enough of me. What's the occasion?"

"Consider this another episode of Adrien's treat." He winked, earning a giggle from her.

"So, how does this work?" She inquired eagerly as he led her to the dark sheets draped over their king-seized bed.

"It's easy," he explained as he helped her out of her camisole, earning a smack on the hand that lightly pinched one of her now exposed nipples. "Relax and let me take care of you." He cooed as he settled her on her stomach.

Chloé couldn't help but sigh as Adrien's oiled hands trailed over her body, from her hips to her shoulders, massaging every area he could reach. A warm smile graced his lips as he felt the tension unwind in her joints.

"You like that?" He asked, as his hands now trailed over her exposed bottom.

"Yeah." She moaned into the pillow, emitting a light chuckle from her husband.

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The blonde woman felt more relaxed now that her husband had taken his time to thoroughly massage every inch of her now-unwound body.

A small moan fell from Chloe's lips as he lifted the last cold basalt stone from the bottom of her spine.

"Better?"

Her response was a simple kiss on his lips. Although she enjoyed being pampered, that period was now over and it was time for bed. Apparently, the concept of rest and relaxation on the weekends excluded the woman who had her hands filled with the needs of her city.

The blonde woman smirked as she felt her husband's eyes trail over her naked body as she walked into the bathroom.

"Chloé, we need to talk."

She looked over her shoulder to see him resting on the door frame while her hand reached out for the water that was just the right temperature.

"What about?"

Mayor Bourgeois was one of the women who appreciated the simple things of life, which included the calming sensation of warm water pelting down her face all the way to her feet. What made it more pleasurable was the presence of her husband, who now joined her for a shower.

"Are you okay?"

She smiled as she felt him wash the oil off her back with a sponge lathered with her favorite honey-scented bar.

"Of course I'm alright. What gave you the impression that I'm not?" She asked as he began the trail of washing her legs and moving up her stomach.

She furrowed her brows as she noticed the gears turning in Adrien's head. A soft giggle escaped her lips as he lazily washed her side.

What's going on in that big brain of his?

"What do you think the twins are doing right now?"

Chloé stilled as Adrien's fingers trailed the silver lines scattered on her stomach and hips, the only proof of the lives she once grew within her.

No, she wasn't going to do that again.

She wouldn't spend her time thinking about what could've been or about what might've happened if only she—

No, they were living in the present now, and all of that was in the past.

Deep breaths, Chloé.

With a forced smile, she turned to wash his back. "They're...probably playing golf with dear old Papa Gabriel or listening to a bedtime story."

She felt him look down on her when she turned to face her. If he could hear the strain in her voice, he chose not to comment on it, though she wished he would not.

"You know, we never picked their names?"

Chloé swallowed as she felt his fingers thumb her wedding band, which was on the hand resting on his chest. Wanting to distract herself, she moved behind him and placed the sponge on his back. "No, we didn't."

"To be honest, I've always looked forward to tea parties with imaginary friends and fake food." He laughed as he turned to catch her gaze, which she avoided. "But at least we got to feel them before they left. Now they can..."

She did everything she could to take her mind off what had happened. So why was he digging up old wounds?

"That's enough, Adrien."

The woman didn't even bother to dry herself as she stormed out of the bathroom, dragging puddles of water behind her.

"Chloé—"

"Can we not talk about this? Please." She whispered as her gaze fixed itself on their quiet compound through the eye of the window.

I can't do this anymore.

Adrien had tried to understand the reason for her silence during their trauma. It was beginning to look like a habit of hers. She'd always talk about them when she was pregnant, but the moment they lost them, it was like they didn't even exist. One would've thought he was crazy talking about kids they never seemed to have had if not for the proof of her medical records, their families' awareness, and the physical changes in her body.

"Why?" He took a step towards her, his anger also brimming on the surface. "They were ours, along with the others. Why should the talk of their existence be taboo in our lives?"

Was there something more to this?

"Adrien, I—"

"I know you're hurting, but you can always talk to me."

𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑎 𝐵𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑔𝑒𝑜𝑖𝑠, 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑔𝑖𝑜𝑢𝑠 𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑙𝑑. 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒'𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎 𝑝𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑜𝑓𝑓𝑒𝑟 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟. "

There's nothing wrong with being vulnerable; it doesn't make you less of a person."

𝑌𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒 𝑒𝑖𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑜𝑝 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑜𝑑 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝑜𝑟 𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑜𝑡𝑡𝑜𝑚; 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒'𝑠 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑎 𝑠𝑒𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑑 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑒.

Chloé Bourgeois was spoiled with riches and raised to perfection, with great mannerisms and poise that everyone envied. The Bourgeois were the epitome of class, status, and wealth, always ready to drive the weaker ones and those who dared to challenge them deeper into the ground. They were always calculating, never caught off guard by the many pleasures or sorrows of the world. They never acted irrationally and were always in tune with their emotions.

So why were Chloé's fingers buried in her hair as a bloodcurdling scream fell from her lips.

"Chloé!"

Adrien was never supposed to see her this way. She'd made sure to work on her lapses the way her mother had taught her to handle her emotions.

𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑤𝑒𝑎𝑘 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑒𝑦𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑠.

How would her mother react if she heard about this?

What were her housekeepers going to think of her?

Were all of Audrey's lessons pointless? No, she couldn't think that. She'd always say there was never an excuse for not being perfect. Not even at the loss of your own children.

Her bottom lip trembled as her blue irises met her husband's green ones, whose sullen gaze was looking down at her.

Please, go away.

"It's okay, let it out."

Chloé could never go against the codes imprinted in her blood right from birth. The last rule was to be held by all Bourgeois, especially her.

She wasn't going to break down in front of anyone, let alone her husband.

Mother dearest would be furious.

But that would only be possible if she got to know, and since she wasn't going to find out, she was going to do what was asked of Adrien.

So she broke and let Adrien hold her in a warm, skin-to-skin embrace. To them, she might be a disappointment, but to the man that mattered the most, it was a new level of intimacy being shared and he wouldn't have had it any other way.

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