Élodie, a fragile young woman, carries the weight of a painful past after losing her mother in mysterious circumstances at the age of thirteen. She grows up under the tutelage of her stepfather, Victor Lemaire, an alpha with irresistible charisma and an enigmatic aura. In the sumptuous corridors of their Gothic mansion, Élodie discovers a world where luxury rubs shoulders with well-buried secrets and palpable tensions. As she prepares to celebrate her eighteenth birthday, her life changes when she surprises Victor in a torrid scene with a mysterious maid, who seems to know things that no one else knows. Élodie is both troubled and fascinated by this man who seems to wear a mask of illusion. Why does this alpha, both distant and magnetic, hide so many mysteries? Determined to catch his eye, Élodie engages in a perilous game of seduction, teetering between desire and danger. But Victor is hiding more than just secret affairs: dark truths that could destroy not only his fortune and reputation, but their entire lives. Who is Victor Lemaire, really? Why does he lock himself in his office during the darkest hours, as if he were running away from something? What troubling connections do the manor's employees have to tragic events from the past? And most importantly, how far will Élodie go to get what she so desperately wants... even if it means sacrificing everything she has?
Chapter 1 Chapitre 1
In the opulent silence of the manor, a ray of light filtered through the heavy velvet curtains. The room, vast and imposing, seemed frozen in time, each heavily carved piece of furniture bearing the scars of a bygone era. A slight shiver ran through Élodie as she opened her eyes. The day was shaping up to be like any other, and yet she couldn't ignore the tension in the air, a dull sense of foreboding that tightened her chest.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, her bare feet brushing the thick carpet, she let her gaze drift to the antique mirror in front of her. Her reflection disturbed her. At eighteen, she still didn't recognize herself in this image of herself. A young woman with a piercing gaze, but still imprisoned by a past she struggled to understand. The voice of Anna, her governess, broke the silence.
"You are expected in the living room, Miss. Your father insists that you join him immediately."
The tone, though respectful, carried that hint of authority that Anna always used when it came to Victor Lemaire. Élodie nodded, without a word. Victor wasn't really her father, but he was all she had. Since her mother's sudden disappearance, he had taken control of her life, imposing his massive presence in every detail of her existence. She put on a light dress, hesitated for a moment in front of the dressing table, then gave up on the idea of doing her hair. Victor hated being late.
Descending the wide stairs, Élodie felt the weight of the portraits hanging along the walls. Each face seemed to scrutinize her, laden with secrets she had not yet discovered. Her mother, so beautiful and enigmatic, was among them. The painting was hung a little higher than the others, as if to emphasize its importance. Élodie looked away. Each time she met this painted gaze, a dull pain took hold of her.
In the living room, Victor was waiting for her, impeccably dressed as usual. He was holding a glass of cognac, although it was still too early in the morning for such indulgence. Next to him, a man Elodie didn't recognize was standing, slightly set back, his hands crossed in front of him. The man seemed to be measuring Victor, studying his every move with an almost disturbing attention.
"Finally, here you are," Victor said, not looking away from the fireplace. "Today is an important day. I want you to be ready."
She frowned. Victor loved dramatic statements, but he had a knack for always shrouding them in frustrating mystery. "Ready for what?"
He spun around, his dark, penetrating gaze meeting hers. "Tonight, we celebrate your birthday. Your coming of age deserves a celebration worthy of what you represent."
The choice of words made her flinch. What did she represent? Not who she was, but rather a sort of symbol that only he seemed to perceive. She didn't have time to answer. The man at her side stepped forward slightly, and Victor, as if suddenly remembering his presence, pointed at the stranger with a broad gesture.
"This is Gabriel de la Croix. He will assist me in organizing tonight's reception."
Gabriel tilted his head slightly, but Elodie sensed a wry glint in his smile. He seemed as comfortable in the role as a fox in a barnyard. She forced herself to smile back, but her instincts told her to be wary of him.
"A reception? For whom?" she asked, hoping to get more information.
Victor set his glass down on the mantelpiece, a calculated gesture, and stepped toward her. "For you, of course. The local notables, a few important allies. This will be an opportunity to present yourself in the best possible light."
She hated the way he spoke, as if she were an object to be displayed. "What if I don't want to?"
Her tone betrayed a rebellion she had not yet fully assumed. Victor's eyes narrowed slightly, but he did not lose his calm. "It's not a question of wanting. It's a question of having to. Tonight, everything will change for you, Élodie. It's time you understood your role."
Her role. That abstract notion he brought up again without ever explaining. She opened her mouth to reply, but he raised a hand to cut her off. "Anna will help you prepare. Rise to the occasion."
And with that, he turned on his heel, followed by Gabriel. Élodie stood there frozen, anger and frustration mingling inside her. Every conversation with Victor left her with more questions than answers. But it wasn't just his words that troubled her. It was what he didn't say, those silences heavy with secrets.
In her room, Anna was already busy taking sumptuous dresses out of the wardrobe. Élodie sat on the bed, watching the governess without really seeing her. Memories of her mother resurfaced, blurry images, tinged with a sadness she had never really overcome. She saw herself again, barely thirteen years old, standing in front of her mother's lifeless body. No one had ever explained what had happened. An accidental fall, they had said. But Élodie had never believed it.
"You look preoccupied, Miss," Anna remarked as she adjusted a dress on a mannequin.
Elodie hesitated, but the question burning on her lips finally escaped. "Anna, you were there that day, weren't you? When my mother died."
The governess froze, her gaze fixed on the cloth in her hands. "Yes," she finally answered, her voice barely audible.
"Then why did you never tell me the truth?"
Anna gently put the dress down and turned to her. "Because some truths are too heavy to bear, Elodie. And some wounds never heal."
The answer, although sincere, only served to fuel Elodie's anger. She stood up abruptly. "Everyone lies to me in this house. Victor, you... Even my mother had her secrets."
Anna looked down, unable to meet his gaze. "Maybe tonight you'll find some answers."
Elodie left the room without another word. If answers were to come, she would seek them out herself. The rest of the day passed in a blur, with preparations for the reception keeping the entire manor staff busy. But despite the agitation, Elodie could not escape the feeling of being trapped in an invisible web, woven long before she was born.
As night fell and the guests began to arrive, she descended the steps, wearing a silver dress that accentuated the paleness of her skin and the depth of her eyes. All eyes turned to her, but she did not notice them. Her thoughts were elsewhere, lost in the mystery of this house and this man who pretended to protect her while controlling her.
Victor, impeccable in his role as host, greeted her with a cold smile. He guided her through the crowd, introducing her to men and women whose names immediately escaped her. But something about the atmosphere of the mansion seemed different tonight, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath.
Amidst the laughter and hushed conversations, Elodie caught sight of Gabriel, alone in a corner, watching the scene with an intensity that made her feel uncomfortable. He saw her, and for the first time, his smile became sincere. But before she could join him, Victor grabbed her by the arm.
"Don't let yourself be distracted. There are things you're not ready to understand yet."
She pulled away, her gaze defiant. "And when will I be?"
He didn't answer, but his silence spoke volumes. Élodie understood then that, whatever happened that evening, she would never be the same again.
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