THE SECRETS HE FEARS

Chapter 8

Lucia could still hear the words in her head. "The curse is tied to the bloodline. She is the key."

She had spent the entire night going over everything she had read in her father's study. The strange symbols, the mention of bloodlines, and the drawing of the full moon with a wolf beneath it. It all pointed to something—something her father never wanted her to know.

She didn't care if he was furious. She was done being kept in the dark.

She stood outside her father's study, heart pounding. She had spent too long avoiding this confrontation, but not anymore.

Before she could hesitate, she pushed the door open.

Austin Grand sat behind his heavy oak desk, absorbed in a letter. He barely looked up when she entered, as though she were nothing more than a passing shadow.

Lucia clenched her fists. He wasn't going to ignore her this time.

"I need answers," she said, voice steady despite the storm raging inside her.

Her father didn't even glance at her. "Answers to what?"

She took a step forward. "To everything you've been hiding. To the curse. To Mother. To why you've spent my entire life keeping me in the dark."

He exhaled heavily and turned a page. "Lucia, I'm busy."

"I don't care."

Her father sighed, folding the letter slowly before setting it aside. When he finally looked at her, his expression was unreadable. "I assume this is about your little break-in last night?"

She stiffened, but she didn't back down. "I read the papers. The curse. The bloodline. What does it mean?"

"Lucia," he said, his tone heavy with disapproval. "There are things you have no business knowing."

Her stomach tightened. "No business? How can you say that? You've been lying to me for years!"

"I have been protecting you," he corrected coldly.

"Protecting me from what?" she demanded. "From the truth? From my own past? You expect me to just accept the silence, the way you push me aside like I don't matter?"

His eyes darkened. "You don't understand what you're asking, and you won't."

"Why?" she pressed, her voice rising. "Because it's about Mother? Because you don't want me to know what really happened to her?"

For the first time, something flickered across his face—pain, regret. But just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by the cold, controlled mask he always wore.

"Your mother is dead, Lucia. That is all you need to know."

Her breath hitched. "That's your answer? That's all you have to say?"

He stood suddenly, his chair scraping against the wooden floor. "This conversation is over."

Lucia took a step forward. "No, it's not!"

His hand slammed down onto the desk. "Yes, it is!" His voice was sharp, final, and it cut through the air like a blade.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Then, in the tense silence, a soft voice broke through.

"Well, well… someone's finally growing a spine."

Lucia turned sharply to the doorway.

Helena stood there, her lips curled in amusement, arms crossed as though she had been enjoying the show. Beside her, Eloise leaned casually against the frame, inspecting her nails with a bored expression.

Lucia's blood boiled. "Were you listening to us?"

Helena let out a soft, mocking laugh. "Oh, darling, don't be so dramatic. It's hardly a secret that you've always been too curious for your own good."

Eloise smirked. "You should take Father's advice, Lucia. Digging into things that don't concern you never ends well."

Lucia turned back to her father, expecting him to at least tell them to leave, to defend her—but he said nothing.

Of course he didn't. He never did.

Her jaw clenched. "You always let them talk to me like this," she said, voice laced with bitter disappointment.

Her father didn't answer.

Lucia's heart pounded as she looked at him, really looked at him. His face was void of emotion, his eyes distant. He wasn't just shutting her out—he was pushing her away.

And maybe he had been doing it for years.

Maybe he was never going to let her in.

Her hands trembled, but she forced herself to stay composed. "I see," she said, her voice quiet but firm. "You'll never tell me the truth. Because you're afraid of it."

Something flashed in his eyes at that—an emotion she couldn't quite place—but before she could say anything else, he turned away.

"Leave, Lucia," he said, his voice empty.

She swallowed hard, pushing down the sting of rejection.

She wasn't going to cry.

Not in front of him.

Not in front of them.

Without another word, she stormed past Helena and Eloise, shoving past their smug glances, her father's silence pressing down on her like a weight she could no longer carry.

But even as she left, one thought burned in her mind.

If he wouldn't tell her the truth…

She would find it herself.