Chapter 1: The Bag On The Courtyard Stones
Victoria threw my small bag onto the courtyard stones as if it carried something contagious. It struck beside the iron fence and spilled one sleeve of my dress through the torn zipper. She stood under the manor’s stone archway, silver hair untouched by the wind, her pearl necklace bright against her dark coat. At the same time, she kept Chloe inside the grounds and out of my reach. I could see the garden beyond her shoulder, black hedges and wet paths, but not my daughter. My hands trembled around the distinctive jewel at my wrist, the one I had worn for as long as I could remember. Victoria’s gaze dropped to it, then lifted away before I could be certain she had noticed.
My name is Lucie.
I had been eight months pregnant, cold through my simple dress, and too undocumented to trust any official door to open for me. The manor had never felt like mine, but that night even the threshold seemed to reject me. I took one step toward Victoria, bracing my weight against the ache pulling across my lower back. My attention stayed fixed on the garden. Chloe had been there moments earlier, or that was what Alexandre had allowed me to understand. The silence had already lasted too long.
“Chloe? Where are you?”
No answer came from the hedges. No small footsteps crossed the gravel. Somewhere behind the house, a gate shifted in the wind, and the sound made my stomach tighten. Victoria did not turn to look. She watched me instead, as though my fear were an inconvenience she had planned for.
I pointed toward the garden and felt the baby move low beneath my ribs. “I need my daughter here right now.”
The words left me more quietly than I intended. They were not a threat. They were the only demand I could still make without permission. Victoria’s fingers closed over the edge of the archway. Her authority did not break, but something in her face hardened, as if Chloe’s name had reached a locked room inside her.
My knees weakened before anyone answered. I reached for the fence, missed it, and sank onto the cold stones. The impact traveled through my hips and into my abdomen. For a few seconds I could hear only my own breathing and the faint scrape of my bag being dragged by the wind. The jewel pressed into my palm. I held it tightly, using its familiar shape to remain present.
Then headlights swept across the courtyard.
A black convoy rolled up beyond the iron fence, its beams flashing over the manor facade and turning every window white. Engines idled in the darkness. Doors opened one after another, but no one hurried. The first man to emerge was old, white-haired, and dressed in a dark coat. He moved with the controlled pace of someone accustomed to being watched. He approached the fence while the vehicles remained behind him.
“Stay calm, everyone is watching us.”
His eyes settled on me, not on Victoria. The concern in them was measured, almost careful. I did not know him, but he knew the courtyard, the house, and perhaps the reason I had been put outside.
Alexandre appeared on the interior staircase behind his mother. His formal shirt was open at the throat, and his dark hair looked as though he had run both hands through it. He descended several steps, stopping where the light from the entry hall met the night.
“She’s just in the garden, she’ll be fine.”
He said it toward me, but his eyes moved to Victoria. The reassurance did not reach his face. He had not gone looking for Chloe. He had not crossed the courtyard to help me up. His hand rested on the banister while the stranger reached into his coat.
The old man drew out a black-and-white photograph and held it through the bars. The paper shook slightly between his fingers. In it, a woman faced the camera with my gaze, my narrow face, and the same jewel circling her wrist. Behind her stood a blurred woman wearing a necklace of pearls identical to Victoria’s.
May you like
The photograph came closer. The old man turned it over, exposing dark handwriting across the reverse. Alexandre stopped on the stairs. The color left his face. Victoria retreated toward the doorway, one hand rising to the pearl necklace.
I leaned forward, but the courtyard tilted before I could read the first word. The door behind Victoria began to swing inward.
