Chapter 29
Elora
The atmosphere in town had turned strange.
At first it was only a few pointed looks aimed at my back. Then the oddness started to surface in the open.
I was restocking when the doorbell rang. I looked up with a ready smile. "Welcome, what can I—"
It was Grace, the mayor's wife. She didn't greet me with her usual smile. Instead, she stood six feet away, face set.
"Grace?" I blinked.
"Elora." Her voice was stiff. "Cancel my essential-oil massage next week. And don't bother booking any more."
My smile froze. "Is something wrong with the service? Or the scent? We can adjust—"
"It has nothing to do with the oils." She gave a cold snort, eyes raking over me.
"The whole town is talking. You've got a bastard.
We used to feel sorry for you—single mother running a shop to support her kid.
But now? First Julian Moretti's been circling you day and night, and now some man no one knows shows up.
Elora, your private life's a mess—like a kicked-over trash can. "
I sucked in a sharp breath, fingers locking on the edge of the counter. "Grace, you've misunderstood. The child has a father. It's just—"
Just that I couldn't say it. Couldn't name Leo's father. Couldn't let Lucien step fully into our lives. Couldn't push Leo into the middle of that bloody, dangerous New York swamp.
My silence was all the proof Grace needed.
"Look at that—can't even speak?" She curled her lip. "A shop run by someone so shameless? We won't be coming back. Who knows what kind of filthy business you're conducting in here."
She turned and shoved the door hard on her way out. The brass wind chime clattered wildly, as if mocking the thin dignity I still tried to hold.
I stood in the empty shop, staring at the still-swinging wooden door, my heart sinking inch by inch.
Over the next two days, things got worse. High-tier membership appointments were canceled one after another. Someone slipped a membership card through the door crack. Someone else dumped half a cup of cold coffee on the shopfront. And the most ridiculous blow: Leo's kindergarten spot was revoked.
When I went to ask the director, she wouldn't meet my eyes. "The parent committee has concerns." When I pressed for details, several women standing in the hallway muttered just loud enough for me to hear.
"Slut."
"Shameless temptress."
"Who even knows where that son of hers came from."
The words sank into my skin like invisible steel needles—no blood, but when the last one hit, the one about Leo, my stomach twisted.
I could ignore what they said about me. They could not touch Leo.
I was staring at the photo of him on my phone when the screen lit up with a new message.
—Elora, it's urgent. A few people in town are organizing to report you to child protective services for "unsuitable home environment." I'm waiting at the old community office on the south side. Come right away. We need a plan before they act. —Julian
My head rang. Child services. A report.
Single mother. Unknown father. The gossip already roaring through town. Any one of those was enough for "reasonable suspicion." Once CPS opened a formal investigation, even if they found nothing, the process alone could tear our lives apart.
I didn't stop to think. I didn't even finish buttoning my coat. I grabbed the car keys and bolted out the door.
The old community center looked especially desolate in the winter night. A row of flat buildings waiting for renovation, the iron gate half-open, half the streetlights dead. Wind slid through broken window frames with a thin, keening sound—like a bad omen.
I pushed the wooden door open. The hallway was dark. Only the farthest office showed a thin line of light.
"Julian?" I called as I walked. "Are you in there?"
No answer.
I reached the office and pushed the door. "Julian, what's going on—"
Behind me, the door slammed shut with brutal force.
The room plunged into blackness. A sharp click of the lock.
"Who's there?" I spun and yanked the handle. It didn't budge.
"Elora..."
A rough, hoarse, tightly restrained breath filled the room. Every hair on my body stood up. I flicked on my phone's flashlight and aimed it toward the sound.
Julian was slumped in the corner beside the desk, hair a mess, face flushed an unnatural red, forehead gleaming with sweat. His eyes were bloodshot. Both hands clenched the fabric of his sleeves as if he might tear them apart.
"Julian!" I started toward him, then stopped two steps away. "What's wrong with you?"
"Don't... don't come closer." He scrambled backward, voice shaking. "I didn't send that message. Someone took my phone. Get out... Elora, stay away from me..."
A thick, sweet, cloying floral scent hit my nose. My stomach lurched. I recognized it in a second—high-purity synthetic aphrodisiac.
"Shit." I clapped a hand over my mouth and nose, scanning the room. Half a glass of cold water sat on the desk. I grabbed it and flung the contents straight into Julian's face.
He jerked hard. For a fraction of a second, the haze in his eyes cleared.
"E...lora..."
"Run!" he roared, fingers digging into his own thighs. "Run!"
The clarity lasted less than three seconds. His eyes burned crimson again. He surged up from the floor like a cornered animal.
I backed away, snatching a letter opener from the desk and holding it between us. "Julian, snap out of it! You've been drugged! Look at me—I'm Elora!"
I lunged to the window and raised my phone. The signal bars were empty. Even emergency calls wouldn't go through.
"They jammed the signal." Julian's voice was raw, almost gone. "Elora... I can't control it..."
"You can!" I gripped the letter opener tighter, forcing myself steady. "Julian, look at me. You won't hurt me!"
He lifted those scarlet eyes. For one second I saw the pain, the struggle, the last thread of reason the drug was burning through.
Then he lunged.
I swung the blade. He caught my wrist. The knife flew, clattering into the corner. His full weight slammed me back against the cold edge of the desk. Pain exploded through my lower back; the world grayed.
"Let go! Julian! Look at who I am!"
I fought—knees, elbows, everything. His breath scorched the side of my neck. His whole body shook like a machine about to seize. I shut my eyes and sank my teeth into his shoulder. He grunted in pain; the hold loosened for a heartbeat.
Just as I started to wrench free, the wooden door—and the iron padlock on its frame—was kicked clean off its hinges from outside. Blinding camera flashes exploded in the doorway like a storm.
"Shoot it! Get everything!" A man in a baseball cap stood at the front, voice cracking with excitement. "Sturgis's toughest single mom, rolling around with a New York big shot in an abandoned community center at night—now that's a headline!"
A dozen people jammed the doorway. The flashes were white and merciless, like courtroom lights. My blood froze. This had been a trap from the start. The town gossip, the canceled kindergarten spot, the message pretending to be from Julian—every step a precise cut driving me into this room.
"Help!" I screamed with everything I had. "I'm locked in! Julian's been drugged! Help me!"
They only kept shooting. The shutters buzzed like a swarm of hungry insects.
Then a tall, dark figure filled the doorway. Lucien's face was iron-black. His gray eyes cut through the chaos and locked on me.
The same drowning despair from four years ago at the champagne tower rose up and closed around my throat. My heart sank. Was he going to turn away again, just like then, and leave me nailed to the pillory of shame forever?
The next second, Lucien moved.
He seized Julian by the back of the neck and ripped him off me. Julian snarled and fought; Lucien drove a fist into his gut. Julian crumpled, curling in on himself, shaking.
"Enzo. Antidote. Bind his hands."
Enzo and the others stormed in and dragged Julian aside. Lucien stripped off his coat, wrapped it around my still-trembling body, and lifted me into his arms, shielding me from every flash with his own body.
I went rigid against him, forgetting how to breathe.
"Who tipped you off?" Lucien turned, still holding me, eyes sweeping the crowd at the door.
The man in the cap finally looked less thrilled. "We... we just got an anonymous tip that something big was happening here..."
"Something big?" Lucien's laugh was cold.
"Elora is the only woman I, Lucien Genovese, have ever acknowledged as my wife. The woman I would protect with my life and still never feel it's enough."
My heart clenched hard.
"She's worth ten thousand of you scavengers who hide behind cameras and feast on other people's pain."
"Every single one of you involved will have a lawyer's letter by tomorrow." He paused, mouth curling in a smile with no warmth. "Of course, if the law moves too slowly, I don't mind teaching you what 'shut up' means myself."
The man's face went pure white. He fumbled the camera off and held it out. "I'll-I'll delete it! All of it!"
Lucien didn't take it. He glanced at Rocco. Rocco stepped forward, snatched the camera, yanked the memory card free, snapped it in two, and tossed both halves into a water bucket in the corner. "Equipment." He crooked a finger at the dozen people. "Hand it over yourselves. Don't make me take it."
The flashes died.
Lucien didn't look at them again. He only looked down at me, voice low. "It's over. I'm here."
That single sentence snapped the last of my control. Tears flooded out. I clutched his shirt and buried my face in the warm hollow of his neck, crying so hard I could barely breathe.
"I didn't arrange this. I don't know why it happened..." My voice broke. "They said... they were going to report Leo. I was so scared..."
"I know." He held me, palm stroking slow circles down my back. "I know everything, Elora. Leo will be fine. I promise."
The drive home felt endless. I stayed curled against him the whole way. By the time the car stopped in front of the little cabin, I had no strength left to cry.