Chapter 103

Chapter 103
Lucian POV

The moment I stepped into Eloise’s atelier, a strange chill coiled around my spine. Not from the air conditioning, but from something else. The scent of jasmine and soft leather hit me the moment I crossed the threshold, and I stood there for a moment, absorbing it. The place felt like her. Clean lines, warm lighting, vases of dried lavender perched on mahogany shelves. It had grown, matured, just like she had.

“Good afternoon, sir,” a young woman said politely from behind the front desk. She was new, probably hadn’t worked here when Eloise and I were… whatever we were.

I nodded stiffly. “Is Eloise in?”

The girl checked her tablet. “She said she’d be in today, but I’m not sure what time. Would you like to wait?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

She motioned toward the sitting area to the right. I took a seat on the plush navy armchair, the hum of quiet jazz music filling the space. I stared at the walls, framed with Eloise’s earliest sketches, some I remembered her hiding from me, calling them “not good enough.” Now they were professionally mounted, highlighted by golden lighting, her name elegantly printed at the bottom of each frame.

My throat tightened. I had missed all of this. Every step of her growth.

Time passed slowly. The assistant brought me a glass of water, which I barely touched. Then, at last, I heard the soft clack of heels against the tiled floor. My head shot up.

Eloise walked in with a tablet in one hand and her phone in the other. She wore wide-legged ivory trousers and a black silk blouse tucked neatly at the waist, her curly hair pulled back in a sleek bun. She looked… god, she looked like a diva.

And then she saw me.

Her entire body stilled. Her mouth parted slightly, not in surprise but in anger. Her jaw locked tight.

“No,” she said sharply, spinning on her heel and heading toward the hallway that led to her private office.

I was on my feet in seconds. “Eloise, please—wait.”

She didn’t.

But I followed anyway. I crossed the threshold into her office just as she set down her things. She spun to face me, fury in every inch of her.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing here?” she asked, her voice low but lethal.

I closed the door gently behind me. “I just needed to see you. To say something.”

“You needed?” she repeated, incredulous. She stepped behind her desk, using it as a barrier. “You needed. What about what I needed when you believed every lie? When you left me to drown while you danced around with Jennifer?”

I swallowed hard. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right. That’s why I’m here.”

“No,” she said. “You don’t get to be here. You don’t get to waltz into my life again because now it’s convenient for you.”

I stepped forward, slowly. “I’m not here for forgiveness, Eloise. I don’t expect anything from you. I just need to say it. Out loud.”

She crossed her arms. “Say it, then. And leave.”

I took a breath, grounding myself. “I was wrong. I was a coward, and I let my insecurities and ego blind me to the truth. I believed Jennifer because it was easier. Because she told me what I wanted to hear. And I never should have. I never should have doubted you, even for a second.”

Eloise stared at me, her brown eyes unreadable.

“I know I hurt you,” I continued. “I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I know I ruined everything that was ever good between us. But I want you to know, genuinely, that I’m sorry. Not because I want closure. Not because I want to ease my guilt. I’m sorry because you didn’t deserve any of it.”

Silence. Thick, loaded silence.

Finally, Eloise leaned forward slightly, bracing her hands against the edge of her desk.

“Lucian,” she said slowly, her voice trembling just slightly. “You don’t get to rewrite this narrative. You were the villain. And for a while, I let myself believe it was my fault. That maybe I wasn’t enough. But I’ve worked so hard to unlearn that. To build something of my own. And you know what? I don’t need your apology. I don’t need your validation.”

I bowed my head. “I understand.”

“Do you?” she snapped. “Do you understand what it means to be publicly humiliated, dragged through the mud, and then climb your way back up? To claw out of the hole you helped bury me in?”

I had no answer. Only shame.

“I should call security,” she said.

I looked up. “I’ll go. I just… I’m glad you’re thriving. Truly.”

I turned to the door.

“Actually,” she said, her voice flat. “I will call security.”

I turned back to find her pressing the intercom button on her desk.

“Yes, Ms. Eloise?” the assistant’s voice crackled through.

“Kindly escort Mr. Lucian True out of the premises. He is not welcomed here.”

My heart caved in.

She didn’t look at me again. She sat in her chair, picked up her tablet, and began scrolling through her designs like I no longer existed.

Minutes later, two security guards stepped into the office.

“Sir,” one said, politely but firmly, “we’ll need you to come with us.”

I nodded. No fight left in me. As they walked me out, I glanced back once. Just once.

She didn’t lift her head. And that’s how I knew. I had lost her forever.