Secrets Behind His Eyes

Kiera hadn't planned to wake up in his arms again. But when she opened her eyes, still groggy from sleep, the first thing she saw was Lucien's face inches away, his features relaxed and surprisingly peaceful in the morning light. He looked different when he wasn't scowling or glaring at her like she was some unfortunate obligation.

He was human then—just a man, not a cold-hearted billionaire with a file full of contracts and a closet full of secrets.

But peace was temporary. The moment his eyes blinked open, the warmth vanished.

"What are you doing in my bed?" he asked flatly, pulling the covers back as if she might be a disease to shake off.

Kiera pushed herself upright, wrapping her arms around her knees. "You were drunk," she reminded him. "You insisted I stay. I didn't exactly climb in here for fun."

He looked away, jaw tightening. "Next time, don't listen to me when I'm drunk."

"Noted," she muttered, slipping out of the bed and heading straight for the bathroom, not bothering to look back.

As the door clicked shut behind her, Lucien ran a hand over his face. His mind was still cloudy from the wine, but not enough to erase the clarity of what he'd felt last night—warmth, for the first time in years, and the dangerous comfort of her presence.

Damn it.

Downstairs, the tension was already thick over breakfast.

Kiera ate in silence, forcing bites of toast into her mouth while Lucien read the financial section of the paper like she wasn't even there. It had been five days since their wedding, and they still hadn't figured out how to be in the same room for ten minutes without drawing blood.

She hated the way he made her feel invisible. Even worse, she hated how she noticed him all the time. The way he held his coffee like it was the only stable thing in his life. The way he always seemed to be thinking—calculating something no one else could see.

"Are you going to the office today?" she asked finally, just to break the silence.

Lucien didn't even look up. "Why? Planning to throw a party while I'm gone?"

She rolled her eyes. "I was just making conversation."

"Well, don't," he replied, folding the newspaper and placing it neatly on the table. "This arrangement doesn't require conversation."

Kiera stood up so fast her chair scraped loudly against the floor. "You know, you don't have to be such a jerk all the time. I'm trying."

Lucien rose slowly, his movements deliberate. He walked around the table until they were face to face.

"I didn't marry you for your effort, Kiera," he said coldly. "I married you for convenience. Let's not confuse that with affection."

Her chest tightened. "Right. Of course."

Later that day, Kiera wandered through the massive estate, not sure what she was looking for. Space to breathe, maybe. Or a reason not to feel like she'd sold her soul in exchange for a ring she didn't even pick.

She stopped by a set of closed doors on the second floor. They were different from the others—darker wood, old brass handles, and a lock. It wasn't just a guest room or a study. This was something… private.

The logical thing would be to turn away. But curiosity clawed at her.

She touched the handle. Locked.

A few feet away, a key hung from a decorative hook on the hallway wall—barely hidden. Her fingers hesitated only a second before she took it.

The lock clicked open, and she stepped into a room that felt frozen in time.

It was a nursery.

Dust covered everything. The rocking chair in the corner. The books on the shelf. The toys arranged too neatly on the floor. Faded wallpaper of clouds and stars.

Her heart thudded. Who had this room belonged to?

A chill ran down her spine when she saw the name painted above the crib in delicate cursive:

Liam.

She turned as the door slammed shut behind her.

Lucien stood there, his expression thunderous.

"What are you doing in here?"

"I—" she swallowed. "I didn't mean to—"

He strode toward her. "You don't get to be in this room. Ever."

Kiera backed away, stammering. "I didn't know—there was a key—"

"I put that key there for me. Not for you." His voice broke slightly, like a dam cracking under pressure. "This room is off limits."

"Who was Liam?" she asked softly, unable to stop herself.

Lucien went very still. His eyes turned ice-cold again. "Get. Out."

She took a slow breath. "Lucien—"

"Get out, Kiera," he growled, turning his back to her, fists clenched.

Kiera left without another word, her pulse racing, her mind swimming.

There was more to this man than the cold armor he wore. She'd seen a fracture, a name that meant something. And she couldn't help but wonder—was Liam the reason he was so broken?

That night, dinner was awkwardly silent again. But this time, it wasn't because Kiera didn't have anything to say.

She couldn't stop thinking about the nursery. About how tightly Lucien had shut down.

"Was he your son?" she asked suddenly, unable to keep the question inside.

Lucien's fork froze halfway to his mouth. Slowly, he set it down.

Kiera bit her lip. "Liam."

He didn't answer right away. Just stared at the table as if the question weighed more than he could lift.

"Yes," he said finally, his voice low. "He was."

The silence stretched.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

Lucien nodded once. "He died when he was two. Heart defect."

Kiera's chest ached. "You've never talked about him before."

"Because talking doesn't bring people back."

She reached for her glass of water, trying to calm the sudden heat in her chest. "Maybe not. But it helps keep them alive in memory."

Lucien's eyes flicked to hers, something unreadable in them. "Do you believe that?"

"I have to," she said. "Otherwise, what's the point of remembering anything?"

He looked away. "You talk like someone who's lost people too."

Kiera hesitated, then nodded. "My mom. When I was sixteen. Cancer."

Lucien's jaw tightened slightly. For a moment, their pain connected them like an invisible thread. Just for a moment.

Later that night, as Kiera stood by the balcony of her bedroom, the air cool against her skin, Lucien knocked.

She turned, surprised to see him there, holding a bottle of wine and two glasses.

"I was… thinking," he said awkwardly. "About what you said earlier. About remembering."

"And?"

"I don't want Liam to be forgotten," he admitted.

She nodded slowly. "Then tell me about him."

Lucien stepped inside and poured them both a glass. For the next hour, he talked. About Liam's laugh, his stubbornness, how he used to insist on wearing superhero capes to bed. Kiera listened, asked gentle questions, and watched as the man behind the mask finally emerged.

It was the first real moment they shared.

When Lucien finally stood to leave, he paused by the door.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

"For what?"

"For not treating me like a monster."

Kiera's voice was soft. "Maybe because I see you trying not to be one."

He didn't reply. Just nodded once and left.

Outside, the wind rustled the leaves. Inside, Kiera stood alone in the moonlight, her heart unexpectedly tangled in a man she was never meant to fall for.

But sometimes, fate wrote different chapters than the ones we planned.

And Kiera knew… her story with Lucien was only just beginning.