4. CHAPTER 3 #3
Our father nodded, satisfied the atmosphere had been corrected. “Kade’s people want speed,” he went on. “It suits us. The longer this drags, the more room there is for interference.”
“For interference,” our mother interjected, “and drama.”
She didn’t look my way, but the implication was clear. I could have laughed. To her, I invented drama by simply breathing. To her, being quiet and complying was the ideal version of a perfect daughter. I almost kissed my teeth.
Dessert came and went like a formality. I didn’t taste any of the chocolate mousse that was served. The conversation tonight had my tummy so twisted, my insides felt numb and unreliable.
When the table finally released us, I excused myself and took the stairs at a pace just short of running.
I saw Debo waiting for me as I reached the second floor. Leaning on the wall, with his arms folded across his chest. His hair tousled, probably from running his hands through it as he waited. It was a habit Debo had when he was upset or anxious about something.
“Walk with me,” he said.
We didn’t really walk anywhere. We took two steps, then stood at the landing like we were moving.
He watched me closely, searching my expression for whatever I was still holding on to post the dinner table argument.
“Tomorrow isn’t your fight,” he said at last.
“You don’t get to shield me by shutting me out,” I shot back.
I saw the muscle in his jaw tick multiple times. Debo rarely showed emotion; tonight it was impossible to miss.
“Does this have anything to do with the disagreement you had with—”
He didn’t let me finish.
“Orion Kade… You don’t know him or what he’s capable of.”
He paused like he was trying to find better words.
“You do?” I asked.
“I know enough to know he’s dangerous and can't be trusted.” He lowered his voice. “If you feel pushed by him. Or anyone… stand your ground and say no.”
What did he mean by being pushed?
“You’re confusing me.” I said in a lower voice, just in case someone was listening in on us.
“Our father says the family needs this truce, and I understand the benefits of it. I just… just never wanted this for you.” He paused, ran his hand through his hair and continued.
“I want you to be happy. It's inevitable that we’ll sign the papers tomorrow but I need you to be able to stand up to him in the future.”
“Orion?” I asked, and Debo nodded.
I had many questions to ask Debo but I wasn’t sure where to start. He was always protective of me, but this was the first time he’d ever said something like this to me. I wasn’t sure if I was missing the main point of whatever he was trying to convey.
Stand up to him?
I had no say in the truce signing. No access to the contract. No real understanding of what was about to happen to my life. How was I supposed to stand against a man like Orion Kade when everyone around me had already surrendered on my behalf?
I waited to see if he was going to say something else. He didn’t, much to my disappointment. He wore the creased expression he always had when he couldn’t figure something out.
“You don’t seem to like him… do you?” I pressed.
Debo’s mouth twisted, but it wasn't a smile. “Some men take ground and never stop taking.”
“Is that a warning or a proverb?”
I had to ask. I needed more straightforward words from him.
“It’s a fact.” He hesitated, then added in a more gentle tone, “You’re stronger than you think, Léonie. I need you to remember that.”
He squeezed my shoulder once and left me there with the chandelier light and the ache of being cared for in a way that still kept me out of rooms.
You would think I’d be used to it by now, having grown up in this family. I still hated the feeling of helplessness it left me with.
I watched him walk away, stepped into my room, closed the door, and stared at my phone.
Yves’ message waited on the screen like both an escape route and a warning sign.
My father’s no echoed in my head. Debo’s cryptic words echoed with it.
The conversation in the dining room still haunted me, especially the way my father said duty like it was a blessing.
I looked up and saw my reflection at the mirror across the room. Always so polite, careful…neutral. I wanted to shake the color out of my own voice. Make a statement. Show them I wasn't some obedient pawn they could use for favors.
I walked toward the window and looked outside. The Basilica glowed above Paris, beautiful and equally unnerving. We had kissed there once before, on a rainy night, laughing like reckless teenagers with nothing to worry about.
Was I being foolish?
Or being brave?
Did it really matter?
I typed, erased, typed again, my hands shaking. By the third attempt, my fingers cooperated enough to finish the message and hit send.
Me: I’ll be there.
I stared at the words until they felt like a choice and not a reflex.
Then I stood and opened the wardrobe. The overnight bag sat on the shelf.
I set it on the velvet stool at my vanity and folded my life into it—simple everyday clothes, passport, sketchpad.
A simple scarf I'd bought last week from a pop-up shop Céleste and I were supporting.
A face cap, because staying anonymous would matter if this elopement was going to last.
I thought of calling Céleste and Isolde to tell them I was leaving, but stopped myself. I’d call them once we arrived at whatever our final destination would be.
Though Yves didn’t say where he was taking us, I trusted it would be somewhere hidden, safe, and peaceful.
I picked up my travel jewelry box, tempted to add it to the bag, but I dropped it back onto the dresser instead. The less I was noticed, the better. I zipped up the bag.
At the last second, I grabbed the little vial of my favorite perfume and slipped it into the side of the bag. I wanted one more thing that still made me feel like myself before this long trip.
I didn’t have to worry about the security guards on duty. I knew their shift well enough to know exactly what time to slip through the gates. Thanks to the many nights Isolde and I spent sneaking into the city to party whenever my parents grounded us, went to bed early, or travelled abroad.
My eyes scanned my room to make sure I wasn’t missing any other necessary items.
I turned off the lamp at the side of my bed.
Downstairs, somewhere under all that gilt, my father’s laugh rose and fell like a king holding court. Beside me, my phone lit up again.
Yves: I’ll be waiting.
I pushed the bag under the bed and lay down without taking off my jumpsuit, my eyes open to the ceiling as I waited.
Tomorrow at 6:30AM, I’d take control of my life and stop asking permission to live it.