Chapter 104 104
The shrill scream of her alarm ripped through the quiet of the room, dragging a groan of pure irritation from her throat. Jacqueline fumbled across the bedside table, seized her phone, and silenced it before collapsing backward into the welcoming softness of her pillows. She had barely released a breath of relief when a sharp knock rattled her door.
“Go away,” she muttered into the mattress.
But she already knew that was useless.
The door creaked open anyway. Light footsteps crossed the floor, followed by the decisive swish of curtains being thrown apart. Ruthless sunlight flooded the room, those wicked golden rays attacking her peaceful darkness without mercy.
“Hélène, stop!” Jacqueline protested groggily as the middle-aged woman began tugging at her quilt. Jacqueline clutched it tighter, wrapping herself like a burrito in desperate defense.
“Wake up, young lady. You’ll be late for university,” Hélène announced firmly and then, without warning, she yanked the quilt away entirely.
Jacqueline squealed as the cold morning air brushed against her bare skin.
God, she hated this ritual.
“You are evil,” she accused, sitting up in bed, rubbing her eyes while stretching with a dramatic yawn.
“Of course. I know that, honey,” Hélène replied calmly. “Now go shower, and then wake your brother. I’m making breakfast.”
She left with a small, satisfied smile.
Jacqueline dragged herself to the restroom. She slipped out of her nightgown, took care of her morning routine, and stood beneath the hot spray of the shower until the warmth chased away the last traces of sleep. When she stepped out, wrapped in a towel, she dressed in a neat knee-length skirt and a button-up shirt tucked properly in place. After blow-drying her hair, she left her room with far more energy than she’d woken with.
Time to pass on the evil.
She marched into Mathieu’s room, flung open his curtains just as mercilessly, and began tugging at his quilt.
“Honey bunny crunchy monkey, wake up!” she sang sweetly.
Mathieu groaned from beneath the covers. Like sister, like brother.
“Don’t call me that,” he mumbled, gripping the quilt tighter.
“Okay, chipmunk,” Jacqueline replied with a giggle.
“My name is Mathieu,” he complained stubbornly, clutching the sheets like they were life support.
“Of course, Sloth,” she laughed.
Her laughter turned into a surprised squeal when Mathieu suddenly released the quilt. Jacqueline, who had been pulling with all her strength, went flying backward and landed squarely on the floor on her backside.
She landed safely… but it hurt like hell.
“You dumbhead!” she growled, scrambling up, ready to charge at him.
Too late.
Mathieu dashed into the bathroom and slammed the door, locking it before she could reach him.
“You have five minutes!” she shouted, pounding on the door. “And don’t think I’ll forget this. I’ll settle the score I give you my word!”
“Yeah, blah blah, sissy,” Mathieu sang mockingly from inside.
Jacqueline scrunched her nose in annoyance, but a reluctant smile tugged at her lips.
“Five minutes!” she yelled once more before heading downstairs.
She crossed the wide hall and entered the grand dining room a space large enough to seat at least twenty people. Hélène was already setting breakfast for two.
“Pancakes! Hélène, I just love you,” Jacqueline declared dramatically, dropping into her chair and staring at the food with sparkling eyes.
Hélène chuckled at her excitement. “Love you too, sweetie.”
Mathieu shuffled in moments later, still looking half asleep.
Jacqueline was nineteen. Mathieu was ten. They lived in the magnificent, palace-like mansion with their father.
Well… not her biological father.
Édith had raised Jacqueline alone. Jacqueline’s real father had walked away before she was born, unwilling to face the responsibility of being a young parent. Édith had been only eighteen when she gave birth and had carried the burden by herself.
When Jacqueline was eight, a wealthy man named Julien Bourdon entered their lives. He was thirty then, a bachelor. As he always liked to say, he had fallen in love with Édith at first sight. She had been twenty-six, with an eight-year-old daughter, and Julien had embraced them both without hesitation.
They married. A year later, Mathieu was born. Their family felt complete. Their home overflowed with laughter.
Until Jacqueline’s fourteenth birthday.
That was the day everything shattered.
Édith died in a car accident. Jacqueline had been in the car with her. Somehow, she survived.
Her mother didn’t.
Jacqueline never spoke about the accident not to anyone. The loss carved a permanent hollow inside their once-happy home.
They survived, somehow.
But things changed.
Jacqueline stepped into a more protective role, looking after her little brother. Julien buried himself deeper in work, drowning his grief in endless hours and responsibilities. Édith’s absence lingered like a shadow in every room, in every heartbeat.
Still, they learned to breathe around the pain. Jacqueline, especially, clung to small joys. She collected moments of laughter like treasures.
Hélène had been with them since the day Édith arrived as a bride. Over the years, she had become more than house staff she was family. A second mother. Both children adored her.
“Why do you always make her favorite breakfast? That’s cheating, Hélène,” Mathieu complained, pouting.
Jacqueline let out a wicked laugh.
Hélène lightly smacked Jacqueline’s head in playful reprimand, making her pout exaggeratedly.
“I’ll make chicken steak for dinner,” Hélène offered.
Mathieu’s face lit up instantly. Jacqueline gave him a sheepish grin.
They ate while Jacqueline animatedly recounted how she and her university friends had pranked the janitor by dressing as ghosts complete with wigs and ridiculous costumes. Mathieu burst into laughter, nearly choking on his food.
After breakfast, Hélène handed Mathieu his lunchbox. He rushed out of the mansion, climbing into the car with the driver who would take him to school.
Jacqueline pressed a kiss to Hélène’s cheek before stepping outside. Her own driver was already waiting by the porch.
Mr. Loïc opened the car door for her.
“Good morning, Mr. Loïc,” she greeted brightly.
He smiled back warmly.
Jacqueline was the brightest presence in the entire mansion. She carried light with her spreading warmth, laughter, and positivity wherever she went. Her smile alone could make others smile in return.
She was joy embodied. Kindness flowed naturally from her. She thrived on fun, on thrill, on mischief and affection.
And one look at her dazzling grin was enough to make anyone feel the dangerous temptation of falling under her charm.