Chapter 8
Elora
"Elora, have you lost your mind?"
"I've lost my mind? You used Lucien's name to take out bank loans, Brenda. And you think I'm the one who's crazy?"
"So what?" Brenda shrieked. "You're Mrs. Genovese now. We're your family. What's wrong with using his name?"
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
"How much did you borrow?"
Long silence on the other end. Finally, Brenda mumbled, "Five... five million..."
The room spun. This was my family.
"You know that's fraud, right?" I snapped. "I'm telling Lucien everything. You'll have to figure out how to pay it back yourselves."
"Elora! You'd better watch yourself!" Brenda's voice turned hard. "You married Lucien. That connection's real. Why shouldn't we use it?"
"Lucien didn't agree to this!"
"He won't care!" Brenda said, as if it were obvious. "This is pocket change to him. Besides, if he really cared, he would've come after us already."
I could barely breathe. "So—you think as long as he hasn't shot up your house yet, that means he's okay with it?"
"Don't be crude!" Brenda sounded disgusted. "Look at you now. You were never likable, but at least you used to be obedient."
"I'll say this one last time." I bit out each word. "Contact the bank. Tell them Lucien didn't authorize anything. Every document you signed—withdraw it."
"Withdraw it?" Richard grabbed the phone. "Easy for you to say! Do you have any idea how important that money is to the company? Do you know what we're facing if we lose it?"
"That's your problem."
"Elora!" Brenda roared. "The Vance family raised you all these years. All we're asking is for you to help us through this rough patch, and you're acting like you want to throw us in prison. Eleanor was right—you just can't stand to see us doing well!"
"Enough. You never treated me like family. Don't pretend there's some deep bond between us now."
Brenda breathed hard for a moment, then spoke through clenched teeth. "Fine. Just fine. Married some man and now you think you can turn your back on your family. Don't forget how you got this marriage, Elora. You think Lucien actually loves you?"
That photo flashed in my mind. My chest ached. He'd denied the past, but the image kept growing sharper, clearer in my head.
"You've always been difficult, sensitive, stubborn, unlikable." Brenda kept going. "Lucien's sweet-talking you now because he hasn't figured out who you really are yet. When he gets tired of you, what do you think will happen to you then?"
"Stop—"
"I'm not done! Either you go tell Lucien to authorize those loans, or you can forget you ever had a mother!"
I stared out the window. My throat burned.
"Then I guess I don't have a mother."
Dead silence on the other end. A few seconds later, Brenda said coldly, "You'll regret this."
I hung up. The screen went dark, but I didn't move. Brenda's words circled in my head—Lucien doesn't love you. Lucien will get tired of you. Lucien will see who you really are.
I couldn't figure those things out. But one thing was clear—I couldn't hide what Brenda had done from Lucien, even if it meant getting thrown out of the manor.
I changed clothes and headed for the study. Passing the second-floor landing, I saw Rocco by the window on his phone. He hung up the second he saw me.
"Morning, ma'am."
"Is Lucien in the study?"
"Yeah. With Marco. Talking business."
"Important?"
"Anything involving that old bastard is a pain in the ass." Rocco shrugged. "But the boss didn't say you couldn't go in."
"Got it. Thanks."
I kept walking toward the study.
"...three banks, two private funds, one port broker. Richard Vance is using your name like a free pass, Lucien."
I froze.
"I know."
"You know? Then why haven't you done anything about it? Or has the Genovese family gone so soft we're letting some washed-up businessman slap our name on his loan applications?"
"I'll handle it."
"You always say that." Papers slammed on the desk. "Look at this. Bank managers calling my people, fishing around to see if this is your call. The Vances have people thinking they're under your protection."
That block of ice in my stomach started crawling up my throat. They'd already caused trouble.
"I said I'll handle it."
"Good. Hope you mean it. But the Vances aren't your only problem. It's her."
My heart clenched. He meant me.
"Elora wasn't involved. This has nothing to do with her."
"How do you know? Lucien, stop acting like some lovesick kid. That woman's family is greedy, stupid, shameless. She grew up in that filth. What makes you so sure she's clean?"
I gripped the doorframe. The wood grain dug into my fingertips.
"Watch your mouth!"
"I am watching it! Anyone else, she'd already be somewhere no one could find her!
She's not a marriage alliance that brings the family anything.
She brings problems. Ethan's ruined, the Hayeks are pissed, then Eleanor barges into the manor and makes us a joke to the staff.
Now her parents are borrowing money in your name all over town. What's next? Selling out the family?"
My back went rigid.
"And Julian Moretti's her client, Lucien. You really want a wildcard like that in your bed?"
I let go of the doorframe and backed away slowly. Maybe I shouldn't have come. Maybe I really did only bring him garbage. I turned to leave. But my heel caught the edge of the carpet—just a soft tap.
The voices inside stopped. The door opened. Lucien stood there, eyes landing on me. I froze. Marco stepped out behind him. This was the first time I'd met any of the other Genovese elders. The way he looked at me—ice cold—chilled me to the bone.
"Ma'am." He bit down on the title. "Eavesdropping part of Vance family etiquette?"
My face burned.
"I wasn't—"
"Marco." Lucien shifted to block his view. "Get out."
"We're not finished."
"We are now."
"Lucien—"
"I said get out."
Marco stared at him. Then he let out a cold laugh, grabbed his cane, and headed for the door. As he passed me, he stopped. Those icy eyes swept from my face to my feet.
"A pretty cage doesn't change what's inside it. Don't mistake yourself for the owner."
Something twisted in my chest. Lucien reached for me. I stepped back instinctively. He came forward, pulled me to his side, and positioned himself firmly between us.
"She's Mrs. Genovese now, Marco." Lucien's voice was even. "Hope you remember that."
Marco's face went iron gray. He said nothing more. Just turned and left.
"Lucien—" I hesitated, but decided to rip the bandage off. "I need to tell you something."
"I'm listening."
"I called Brenda just now." The words rushed out. "They admitted it. They never had your authorization. But—they don't think they did anything wrong."
"I-I tried to make them understand—" My head dropped, voice getting smaller. "But—"
"I know." Lucien's hand settled on my shoulder. "Leave it to me. You don't need to deal with them anymore."
The gentleness in his voice made my throat ache.
"Lucien, I'm sorry." My voice broke. "Marco was right. I'm just trouble... I—"
Lucien's finger pressed lightly against my lips, cutting me off.
"Why would you say that?"
"Because it's true." I was shaking. "I'm not the kind of woman who can help you..."
Lucien frowned, about to speak.
"Don't rush to deny it." I stopped him. "Everything that's happened lately has been because of me... I'm the biggest liability in your life. And you don't even know my past—"
"Then tell me." Lucien cut in.
Tell him? Could I really? I looked up at him. He just looked back, calm, patient. A listener.
It reminded me of when I'd told Ethan about my family, my past.
Ethan had frowned, told me I needed to change myself, stop blaming everyone else. What about Lucien? How would he react?
"Elora?" Lucien waved his hand in front of my face. "What are you thinking?"
I snapped back. Remembered how he'd praised me when we first met. Maybe he really was different.
I took a deep breath and wiped my eyes.
"Since Eleanor was three, Brenda's told me I'm not as good as her."
"Eleanor knows how to make people like her. So if she cries, everyone rushes over. She breaks something, everyone says she didn't mean it. She takes my things, everyone says she likes them, and I should share because I'm the older sister."
"She smashed my favorite music box. I cried for hours.
Brenda said I was being petty. Eleanor and I were roughhousing once, and she stabbed me with a pen.
I went crying to Brenda. She said Eleanor didn't mean it, she'd already apologized, and if I kept making a fuss, I was just trying to embarrass her. "
"I never understood why Brenda treated me that way. I threw tantrums, cried. She'd just tell me coldly to go reflect on myself."
"I thought if I stopped crying, stopped fighting, she'd like me a little. She didn't."
"Later I learned perfumery. Brenda said it wasn't a real job. She wouldn't even let me come to family events. Said I was an embarrassment."
I turned away to wipe my eyes. Lucien caught my chin and made me look at him.
"Look at me. You're not trouble. You're not an embarrassment."
"But Brenda—"
"Elora. Blood shouldn't be your crime."
I stared at him.
"You don't need to apologize to me for what they did. Elora, listen to me." Lucien's hands gripped my shoulders. "You don't need to give me anything. You're fine exactly as you are."
My breath caught.
"You really mean that?" I looked at him, dazed.
"I don't say things twice."
It wasn't romantic. It had his usual arrogance. But somehow, coming from Lucien, I believed every word.
I rushed forward, wrapped my arms around his waist, buried my face in his chest. The tears came all at once. Lucien's hand came up, circled my shoulders, patted gently.
"It's okay. It's okay."
"Are you going to send me away?"
"Never."