Chapter 5 Trapped Between The Montclair Brothers
Aria’s Pov
I woke slowly, disoriented by the silence.
Not the familiar hum of Brooklyn traffic. Not the distant wail of sirens or the neighbor’s dog that never seemed to sleep.
This silence was different.
Thick. Cushioned. Expensive.
It pressed in on me from every direction.
I laid still for a moment, staring up at the ceiling.
Everything in the room looked untouched.
Like it existed for display rather than living.
The maid had shown it to me last night, murmuring something about unpacking later, but I’d barely heard her. Exhaustion had swallowed me whole.
Now that I was awake, the reality of it all settled deeper.
I pushed myself up slowly, fragments of last night replayed in my mind.
The long dining table.
The quiet clink of cutlery.
Valentin’s calm authority.
Cecilia's careful silence.
Adrien’s awkward glances.
And Lucien storming out of the room.
No one had followed him.
I swallowed and pushed the thought away before I could wonder why that bothered me.
A soft knock sounded at the door.
Before I could answer, it opened slightly.
Cecilia stood there, her hand still resting on the door.
She looked… different in the morning light.
Still elegant. Still composed.
But now I noticed the shadows beneath her eyes.
She hesitated in the doorway, one hand resting lightly on the frame.
“May I come in?” she asked gently.
I didn’t answer.
I just shrugged and turned toward the window.
She stepped inside anyway and closed the door quietly behind her.
For a moment neither of us spoke.
“I thought you might still be sleeping,” she said. “The journey must have been exhausting.”
“It was,” I replied flatly.
Silence filled the room again.
She moved a little closer, stopping near the foot of the bed.
“About last night…”
“You don’t have to explain his behavior,” I interrupted. “I got the message.”
She flinched slightly.
“That’s not what I meant,” she said softly. “I wanted to talk about… us.”
A small laugh escaped me.
Short. Humorless.
“Now?”
“Yes,” she said firmly. “Now. Before you start school. Before things get worse.”
That made me turn around.
“You left,” I said. “And everything got worse.”
The words landed between us like something fragile.
She inhaled slowly.
“I know.”
“No, you don’t,” I snapped. “You weren’t there. You didn’t see him after you left. My dad…”
My voice cracked before I could stop it.
“He never moved on. Not really. He loved you. He still does.”
Her eyes filled with tears, but she didn’t look away.
“I wasn’t trying to destroy him,” she whispered. “Or you.”
“Then what were you doing?” I demanded. “Finding yourself?”
“Yes,” she said quietly.
The honesty of it surprised me.
“Because I was lost,” she continued. “Because I was unhappy and becoming someone I didn’t recognize. And I was afraid that if I stayed, I’d poison everything around me. Including you.”
I pushed away from the window and stood abruptly.
“So instead you married a billionaire and started a new life in Paris.”
She winced.
“Valentin isn’t…”
“Don’t,” I cut her off. “Don’t make it sound like some noble journey. You left us to deal with the damage.”
Tears slid down her cheeks now.
“I never forgot about you,” she whispered. “Not for a day.”
“Then why does it feel like you did?” I asked quietly.
The question hung in the air.
Unanswered.
After a long moment, she wiped her face and straightened.
“I know I can’t fix everything,” she said. “But I want to try.”
She hesitated.
“I thought maybe we could go out today. Get a few things for school. Spend some time together.”
I shook my head immediately.
“I need space.”
She nodded slowly.
“Adrien could go with you.”
“No,” I said quickly.
Then softer, “I want to go alone.”
She studied me for a moment before reaching into her handbag.
She placed a sleek black card on the dresser.
“For whatever you need,” she said quietly. “No limits.”
At least that part felt honest.
After she left, I dressed slowly.
Simple jeans. A sweater that actually felt like mine.
On my way downstairs, I passed a closed door at the end of the corridor.
Lucien’s room.
I paused.
I hadn’t heard him since last night.
No footsteps.
No music.
Nothing.
Good, I told myself.
I didn’t want to deal with him anyway.
A limousine waited outside.
Of course it did.
“Where to, ma’am?” the driver asked as I slid into the backseat.
“Take me to the best boutique around here,” I said.
“Of course.”
The car pulled smoothly away from the mansion.
The boutique sat between two quiet streets, its tall glass windows displaying mannequins dressed in soft neutral colors and sharp silhouettes.
Everything looked effortless.
Expensive in a way that didn’t need to be proven.
I hesitated for a moment before stepping inside.
The air smelled faintly of perfume and polished wood. Clothing racks were spaced carefully apart, fabrics flowing instead of hanging stiffly.
This wasn’t the kind of store where people rushed.
Even the silence felt curated.
A sales assistant glanced up and smiled politely.
“Bonjour. Please take your time.”
I nodded and wandered deeper into the store.
My fingers brushed over fabrics my dad would’ve raised an eyebrow at.
Silk.
Cashmere.
Perfectly tailored coats that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe back in Brooklyn.
I told myself I didn’t care where the money came from.
Not today.
As I turned down another aisle, I accidentally bumped into someone.
"Oh, sorry,” the girl said quickly.
I looked up.
She looked about my age. Blonde hair tied into a loose ponytail, small gold hoops in her ears. Her clothes were simple but effortlessly stylish.
“It’s fine,” I said.
She smiled.
“You’re not from around here, are you?”
I stiffened slightly.
“Is it that obvious?”
She laughed softly.
“Only because you’re looking at everything like it might disappear if you blink.”
Then she added gently,
“I did the same during my first week.”
Something about that made me relax a little.
“I’m Aria.”
“Camille,” she replied.
“You starting school soon?”
I hesitated.
“Yeah. I think so.”
She groaned dramatically.
“Last year at Saint-Clair was brutal. Rules, drama, pressure everywhere.”
Then she smiled again.
“At least the teachers love discipline.”
“Sounds… fun,” I said dryly.
She laughed.
“Good luck surviving it.”
With a small wave, she headed toward the counter.
Leaving me standing there.
Saint-Clair.
So that was my new reality.
By the time I returned to the mansion, exhaustion had crept back in.
Inside my room, something new hung beside the wardrobe.
A garment bag.
I opened it.
Inside was a school uniform.
A navy blazer with an embroidered crest.
A crisp white shirt and a perfectly tailored pleated skirt.
It looked beautiful, expensive, immaculate.
And completely not me.
I stared at it for a long moment.
Tomorrow this would be my reality.
A new school.
A new life.
A world I never asked for.
I switched off the light and climbed into bed.
Somewhere down the corridor, a door remained closed.
And for some reason…
I couldn’t stop wondering if Lucien was behind it.
