Lucien

My eyes stayed locked on the family drawing covering half my office wall.

An old piece, done by the country’s best artist. It was the one thing in this room that didn’t change with time or blood.

The buzz of my phone kept drilling into the air for what had to be the hundredth time.

I didn’t need to look to know who it was.

Bianca.

Of course, she’d heard.

The news about me calling Ivy my mistress had spread faster than gunfire in a back alley. I could almost see Bianca’s ...