Episode 18
The night was silent, unnervingly so, as if the very walls of the Blackwood mansion were holding their breath. Aria stood in the hallway outside Lucien's private study, her heart racing. The page from his mother's journal burned in her pocket like a brand — a clue, a warning, a key.
She had waited until Lucien had left for his midnight call with his lawyer. He had told her not to wait up. So she didn't.
She waited for the click of his car engine fading into the night.
Now was her chance.
---
The Study
The room smelled of cedarwood and secrets. The same study where Lucien had kissed her against the bookshelves. Where he had shown her a moment of tenderness—before retreating behind his mask once more.
Aria moved to the fireplace. Her fingers brushed against the cold marble mantle. Her eyes scanned the intricate carvings. Gothic lions. Thorned roses.
And just beneath the left rose… a groove.
She pressed it.
Click.
The sound was soft, almost disappointed.
A panel in the bookcase slid open.
A hidden door.
Her breath hitched.
With trembling hands, she stepped inside.
---
The Passageway
The stairs spiraled down in tight, claustrophobic turns. A faint light flickered below, casting long shadows that danced across the stone walls.
It smelled like dust and iron.
Like forgotten memories.
She reached the bottom.
A heavy steel door stood before her.
She reached out. The handle was cold. Rusted.
It turned with a painful screech.
Inside… darkness.
But her phone's flashlight illuminated a narrow room filled with old trunks, shelves stacked with dusty ledgers, and a large vault embedded into the far wall.
Her eyes widened.
There it was.
The Vault Beneath Blackwood.
---
Inside the Vault
It wasn't locked.
That was the first surprise.
The second?
It wasn't filled with gold or jewels.
It was filled with evidence.
Stacks of documents. Photographs. Names. Dates. Transactions.
Blackmail.
Extortion.
Corruption.
A ledger with names of powerful men — judges, CEOs, politicians — all with amounts listed beside them in neat, cruel handwriting.
And at the bottom of one page:
> "Funds redirected to Eden Project – Phase 1. Mother insisted. Threatened exposure."
Eden Project?
What was that?
Aria reached deeper into the drawers.
And found a smaller folder marked:
"Vivienne Blackwood – 1998"
Her breath caught.
It was his mother's file.
Photos.
Medical records.
Handwritten notes.
> "Subject displayed symptoms of emotional distress post-incident. Lucien was present during the Lakewood Fire. Trauma suspected."
> "Vivienne confronted Jonathan Blackwood about offshore accounts. Two weeks later, she was found drowned. Ruled accidental. No investigation launched."
Aria's hands trembled as she read.
Lucien had seen the fire.
He had seen his mother's death.
And his father had covered it all.
This wasn't just a wealthy family with secrets.
This was a dynasty built on blood.
---
The Door Creaked
She froze.
Footsteps.
Soft. Slow. Purposeful.
She turned off the flashlight.
Heart hammering, she ducked behind a tall filing cabinet, barely daring to breathe.
The vault door opened.
Light spilled in.
A figure stepped inside.
Lucien.
Of course.
He stood still for a moment, then walked straight to the center of the room.
"I know you're here," he said quietly.
Her heart stuttered.
She stepped out slowly.
"I had to see for myself," she whispered.
His face was unreadable.
"I told you," he said, voice cold. "There are things down here that can't be unseen."
"Then why keep them?" she challenged. "Why hold onto all this?"
He walked to the folder she had dropped.
Picked it up.
Stared at the photo of his mother.
"Because she deserved the truth," he murmured. "Even if I couldn't give it to her while she was alive."
Aria stepped closer. "So give it to me."
Lucien looked at her. His eyes were haunted.
"I was nine when I watched the fire swallow five men alive," he said. "They were trying to leak information about the Blackwood enterprise. My father made sure their silence was… permanent."
"And your mother?"
"She found the files," he said, nodding to the very cabinet they stood beside. "She begged him to stop. Said she'd go to the police."
"She drowned two weeks later," Aria whispered.
"She didn't drown," he said tightly. "She was pushed."
Silence thickened between them.
Lucien stepped forward, his voice hoarse.
"I wanted to burn this place. Every piece of it. But if I did… I'd be no different from him."
"You're not like him, Lucien," she said softly.
"You don't know that."
"I do," she insisted. "Because if you were, I'd already be dead."
He closed his eyes. Took a shaky breath.
"I never wanted you to see this."
"Why?"
"Because once you see what I've seen… you'll never look at me the same."
She reached up, brushing her fingers against his jaw.
"I already don't," she said. "And I still love you."
Lucien's eyes opened.
And for the first time, something shattered in him.
Not rage.
Not distance.
But surrender.
He leaned forward, forehead resting against hers.
"I'll show you everything," he whispered. "But you need to promise me…"
"Anything."
"When it's done… if I fall apart… you won't try to fix me."
"I won't," she whispered. "I'll just hold the pieces."
And that night, in the vault beneath Blackwood, surrounded by a dynasty of sins and shadows, Lucien kissed her like a dying man clinging to life.