LONELY HEARTS
Esmé's life takes a dramatic turn when she becomes entwined with Eiser, a son from a powerful family. Haunted by loss and trapped in a loveless marriage, she battles to connect with a man who conceals his emotions behind a wall of sile...
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THE GALLERY ROOM
“The only way to understand someone is to listen without a judgmental heart.” — Lailah Gifty Akita
It was Autumn season.
The gallery was bathed in the warm light of the afternoon sun, its beams catching the golden accents of the intricate frames and sculptures scattered throughout the room.
Esmé sat in silence, gazing at a large, velvet-draped frame that commanded attention on the far wall.
She hadn’t ventured into this room often, but it had a peculiar pull on her today.
The sound of measured footsteps echoed softly behind her, and she turned to see Mr. Roger approached with a porcelain teacup in hand.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Esmé,” he greeted, his tone as calm and respectful as ever. He offered her the cup. “I thought you might enjoy this.”
“Thank you, Mr. Roger,” Esmé said softly, accepting the tea. She cradled it in her hands and gave him a curious glance. “You seem thoughtful today.”
Mr. Roger’s gaze shifted to the draped frame. “It’s hard not to be in this room. There’s a great deal of history here… much of it is tied to sorrow.”
Esmé’s brows furrowed as she followed his gaze. “Sorrow? Does it have to do with Eiser’s family?”
He gave a small nod, his expression growing heavier. “Yes. The Volkovs—Mr. Eiser’s parents—along with the Laurents, your step-parents, Mrs. Esmé. Both families played pivotal roles in what many now call the Underworld War.”
Esmé straightened slightly, the mention of her step-parents piquing her interest. “I knew they were involved in dangerous dealings, but… I didn’t realize it was connected to Eiser’s family.”
Mr. Roger’s voice was somber as he continued. “They were allies once, bound by mutual interests in a precarious world. But as often happens in such circles, betrayal and power struggles emerged. The Volkovs and the Laurents found themselves caught in the chaos. Both families were ambushed, their lives taken too soon.”
Esmé’s fingers tightened around the cup. “I never heard the full story,” she murmured. “I was so young when it happened.”
“The same can be said for Mr. Eiser,” Mr. Roger replied. “He had just begun to take on responsibilities within the Volkov legacy when everything fell apart. Losing both his parents and allies like the Laurents left him with nothing but ruins to rebuild from.”
Esmé lowered her gaze, her heart heavy with their shared tragedy. “No wonder he keeps so much of himself hidden,” she said, almost to herself.
Roger glanced at her with a quiet understanding. “The gallery was once a place of celebration for the Volkovs. They displayed their triumphs here, their treasures. But after their deaths, Mr. Eiser turned it into a mausoleum of memories. That draped frame…” He gestured to the large covered painting. “It’s the last portrait of the Volkovs and the Laurents together. He hasn’t looked at it since.”
