Lucien's eyes stayed cold as he watched her leave the study that night. Every fiber of his being told him this wasn't Isadora. He had no intention of sharing a bed with a stranger, no matter how convincing she tried to be. So, he simply told her to rest in her chambers.
"I have work to do," he had said plainly. She didn't argue—only gave him that same careful smile before disappearing behind her door.
But Lucien didn't work. He sat in silence, staring at the fire, replaying every strange moment over the last few days. If this were some game, it was about to end.
The next morning, his mind was already made up.
"Where will you be today?" "Isadora," asked over breakfast, her voice light.
"At the palace. Official meetings," he answered casually, lifting his teacup.
She nodded, seemingly satisfied. "Then I will spend the day in the gardens. Perhaps visit the market."
He didn't answer. His thoughts were already elsewhere.
