The Tycoon's Secret

peated, silences weighed, and the hours stretched out, interminable. That evening, Clara had felt a strange agitation rising in her, like a premonition. It

f laughter. In the silence of the manor, these sounds, though faint, resonated like insistent echoes. Without really thinking, she foll

dor. She paused, her breath hitching, her fingers hesitating to push the door open.

and impenetrable expression on his face, facing a woman. Her uniform dress slid carelessly from her should

palpable, and every movement seemed carefully choreographed. Hugo's hand, firm but surprisingly gentle, brushed the woman's fac

s it disgusted her. She had always seen Hugo as a distant, almost unattainable man, and now he was revealed in a completely different light. He was no

breath, hoping that the shadow of the door would hide her enough. After a moment that seemed like an eternity, he looked away, returni

ating at a frantic pace. Once out of sight, she broke into a run, her legs carrying her faster than she would

Every detail was etched into her memory: Hugo's posture, the curve of his enigmatic smile, the almost docile attitude of the woman in fron

he could pretend to ignore what she had seen. She knew her perception of Hugo had chang

oices mingling with the clatter of cutlery. Hugo was at the table, as if nothing had happened. His face was

" he asked, looking

rise within her, but she for

real

the table. Every movement seemed weighed, every wor

the pages of his journal. Everything about him seemed so perfectly orchestr

followed Hugo almost unconsciously with her eyes, attentive to his every movement. Every smile he gave to an

before. She immediately lowered her eyes, as if she knew. A wave of unease passed through Clara.

opened her journal and wrote

hat this man is only what he claims to be. But why does it trouble me so much?

igh, realizing she had opened a