Entitled

Chapter 140

The storm outside rages on, the wind howling against the windows, the rain lashing with a relentless fury that matches the turmoil inside you. You sit on the window seat in your chambers, knees drawn up to your chest, staring out into the darkened sky as the tears flow freely down your cheeks.

The world beyond the glass seems so far away, so disconnected from the prison of your reality. The tempest outside feels like a reflection of the storm within you—a relentless, unforgiving force that refuses to let you rest.

You're so lost in your thoughts, so consumed by the weight of everything that has happened, that you barely register the soft knock at the door. It opens quietly, and out of the corner of your eye, you see Lucius step inside, a silver tray in his hands.

He moves with his usual grace, the picture of refined composure, but there's an undercurrent of tension in his movements, a hesitation that tells you he's unsure of how to approach you in this moment.

He sets the tray down on a nearby table, the clink of the china barely audible over the sound of the storm. You know he's there, you can feel his presence, but you can't bring yourself to acknowledge it.

Your heart is too heavy, your mind too numb from everything you've endured. Instead, you keep your gaze fixed on the storm outside, watching the rain as it blurs the world beyond the window.

"Violet," Lucius says softly, his voice barely rising above the sound of the wind. "You need to eat."

You shake your head almost imperceptibly, still not turning to face him. The thought of food, of doing anything as mundane as eating, feels impossible right now. There's a hollow ache in your chest, a void that no amount of sustenance could fill.

"No," you whisper, your voice hoarse from crying, the single word carrying the weight of all your despair.

Lucius hesitates, his eyes lingering on your profile as if searching for the right words, the right way to reach you. He knows what you've been through—everyone in the manor knows, even if they don't speak of it. Your father's cruelty isn't a secret, but it's something that people prefer to turn a blind eye to, perhaps out of fear, perhaps out of their own self-preservation.

"There's going to be a meeting soon," Lucius says quietly, as if trying to coax you into some semblance of normalcy. "You might want to eat before that. It could be a long night."

His words barely register, but the mention of a meeting pulls at the edges of your consciousness, reminding you of the twisted game of power that's always at play in this house. You close your eyes, pressing your forehead against the cold glass, trying to shut out the world and the pain that threatens to overwhelm you.

"Everything is falling apart," you murmur, more to yourself than to him. The words are a quiet admission, a reflection of the chaos that's consuming your life. "It's all falling apart, Lucius."

There's a long pause, and you can feel the tension radiating from him, a mirror to your own turmoil. Lucius has always been composed, always in control, but you know him well enough to sense when that composure is a mask. You can feel his desire to comfort you, to offer some kind of solace, but you also know that he's been warned—your father has made it abundantly clear that Lucius is to keep his distance.

The jealousy your father harbors toward Lucius, the way he's always been suspicious of your feelings for him, has created a chasm that neither of you can cross. Your father sees Lucius as a threat, as someone who could potentially take you away from his control, and that's something he can't tolerate.

Lucius shifts uncomfortably, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. He wants to reach out, you can see it in the way his gaze flickers to you, but he holds himself back. The fear of your father's wrath, the consequences of stepping over that line, keeps him rooted in place.