PARISIAN HEARTS

Chapter 25

The aftermath of the engagement party felt like a dark cloud hanging over Adrien’s life. The newspapers and magazines were plastered with photos of him and Sophie—the perfect, glamorous couple, kissing for the cameras, smiles lighting up their faces as if they were madly in love. But the image felt like a lie, a cruel joke that Adrien couldn’t escape from.

The kiss with Sophie still haunted him. He had been forced to play the part for the press, but every time he thought about it, all he could see was Isabelle. Her warmth, her honesty, the way she made him feel like he could be himself. He hadn’t seen her since the gallery showcase, and with every passing day, the guilt of not being able to explain himself grew heavier.

Adrien knew he needed to tell her the truth. He couldn’t keep lying about his life, but he also didn’t know how to break free from the chains of his engagement. His family expected him to uphold their legacy, to marry Sophie and fulfill the future they had mapped out for him.

But what about his future? The one he wanted with Isabelle?

Days after the engagement, Adrien found himself staring at his phone, torn between calling Isabelle and facing the truth. He hadn’t been able to reach out since the engagement party had gone public. He had barely spoken to anyone, isolating himself from the world as he wrestled with the turmoil inside him.

As he finally mustered the courage to dial Isabelle’s number, there was a knock at his door. He frowned, momentarily distracted, and set his phone down.

“Come in,” he called out.

The door opened slowly, and to his surprise, his mother walked in, her expression unreadable. She was always composed, always calculated, and Adrien braced himself for whatever lecture or reprimand was about to come.

“Adrien,” she began, her voice calm but firm, “we need to talk.”

Adrien straightened in his chair, already dreading where this conversation was headed. “About what?”

“About your engagement,” she said, taking a seat across from him. “The party went well. Sophie’s family is pleased, and the press coverage has been overwhelmingly positive.”

Adrien clenched his jaw. “Is that all that matters to you? The press and Sophie’s family?”

His mother’s gaze hardened. “This isn’t just about you, Adrien. It’s about all of us. You know how important this union is to our family’s future. You agreed to this, and now you have a responsibility to see it through.”

Adrien leaned forward, his frustration boiling over. “I don’t love her, Mother. I can’t marry someone I don’t love.”

His mother’s eyes flickered with something—maybe sympathy, maybe disappointment—but her expression remained stern. “Love is not always the foundation of a successful marriage, Adrien. Sometimes, it’s about partnership, about building something greater than just two people.”

Adrien shook his head, feeling suffocated by her words. “That’s not what I want. I love someone else.”

His mother’s face softened for a moment, but her tone remained controlled. “You’re talking about Isabelle, aren’t you? The girl from the gallery?”

Adrien’s eyes widened, surprise washing over him. “How do you know about Isabelle?”

A faint smile tugged at the corner of her lips, though there was no warmth in it. “Your father told me. He had someone follow you. He was concerned about your growing distance from Sophie and wanted to know what was pulling you away.”

Adrien’s heart sank. The thought of being watched, of Isabelle being dragged into this mess without her knowledge, made him feel sick. “So you’ve been spying on me?”