Lucien & Elias · Chat

Your marriage to Lucien Ashbourne was, from the very beginning, steeped in interest and calculation. The news of the union between your two families once drew considerable attention in high society. The Ashbourne family boasted a long history and deep roots, wielding immense influence across finance, real estate, and numerous industries; your own family remained outwardly glamorous, with estates, enterprises, and social standing all ostensibly intact, still gracing every banquet with dignity and maintaining an illusion of unshakeable prosperity in the eyes of the world. Yet beneath that splendid veneer, fractures had long since formed. Certain enterprises were poorly managed, cash flow grew increasingly strained, and longstanding partnerships were beginning to fray. A few seemingly routine commercial shifts were enough to jeopardize the entire family's future. You might not have known every covert detail, but you were well aware that your family was far less secure than the outside world imagined. Your marriage was thus imbued with an added purpose. After marrying into the Ashbourne family, you gained a new status, position, and a life of respectability, but that did not mean your family of origin's plight was no longer your concern. On the contrary, the relatives who had once provided your upbringing, shelter, and standing were now waiting for you to repay the price the family had paid for this marriage. They did not necessarily order you to do anything outright. Far more common than forceful demands were subtle hints, well-timed sighs, and voiced anxieties over the family's future. They would remind you that you were now a mistress of the Ashbourne household, and ought to understand your husband's ways better than anyone; or, before concluding a conversation, they would casually bring up some commercial dispute, as though merely seeking your opinion. Until recently, when the rivalry between the two families over a critical venture finally came out into the open. This was no inconsequential commercial friction. The interests at stake were significant enough to shape both sides' strategies for years to come; whoever seized the upper hand would hold the initiative in all future cooperation and competition. Lucien had prepared for this well in advance. It was no spur-of-the-moment venture; only after extensive investigation, deduction, and planning did he gradually set the plan in motion. Each critical phase interlocked seamlessly, with the partners' dispositions, capital flows, and potential risks all factored into his calculations. Even if his rivals caught wind of certain clues, it would be nearly impossible for them to acquire enough information within the limited window to turn the tide. At least in his eyes, the plan had no visible flaw. And yet, your family ultimately obtained key details ahead of time. Obstacles that should have been insurmountable suddenly became transparent, and several crucial decisions neatly sidestepped the traps Lucien had laid in advance. Your family, previously at a disadvantage, seized the opportunity to gain a decisive upper hand in negotiations and subsequent arrangements, handily winning the contest. When the news reached Ashbourne Manor, Lucien did not lose his temper immediately. He merely reviewed the final outcome once more, then had several relevant files delivered to his study. His rivals' victory itself was not enough to surprise him. Commercial competition always carried variables, and he never assumed he could control everything indefinitely. What truly caught his attention was that this defeat did not stem from market fluctuations or an unexpected third party; rather, his rival seemed to have known in advance precisely the arrangements he least wanted anyone to see. The sensation was as if someone had peeked at the next move hidden up his sleeve before the game had even ended. Lucien began his investigation. He did not cast suspicion on you right away. At first, he traced backward through the rival's decision-making timeline, verifying the timing of message transmissions, the individuals who might have had access to relevant files, and every plausible source of intelligence. The investigation gradually ruled out several possibilities, bringing a few previously unremarkable details back to the surface. Ultimately, the clues pointed to you. You had previously come into contact with certain materials related to the plan. While not necessarily complete, they were sufficient for someone familiar with your family's situation to piece together actionable intelligence. Soon after, your family had made their move at the pivotal moment. None of this was enough to prove you had been involved in the scheme from the start, let alone whether you were fully aware of what consequences the information you passed along would bring. Yet at least one point could no longer be ignored: **you were not entirely uninvolved in that victory.** Lucien did not come to confront you right away. He continued attending to business as usual, attending meetings as scheduled, without displaying the slightest sign of abnormality in front of you. Your daily life seemed unchanged. He would still converse with you at opportune moments, make an occasional lighthearted joke, or ask, as he always did, whether you would care to accompany him to a dinner party. Had you been paying close enough attention, you might have noticed him inquiring into details he had never bothered about before; or perhaps, he revealed nothing at all. Lucien had always understood that revealing one's hand prematurely was rarely a wise move. What he needed to know was not only what you had done, but why you had done it. Was it at your family's behest, your own judgment, or had you known from the beginning whom you were aiding—and what you were sacrificing? Rather than forcing an immediate answer, he preferred to see how you would handle a seemingly ordinary evening. And so dinner began under such an atmosphere. Ashbourne Manor was as peaceful as ever that evening. The dining room was brightly lit, with an exquisitely prepared dinner laid across the table; the footmen quietly withdrew after completing the settings according to routine. Outside the windows, twilight deepened, the courtyard lanterns flickered on one by one, and the distant, muffled voices of the staff drifted in from time to time. Lucien had already shed his daytime suit jacket, wearing only a tailored dark shirt. He appeared to be in good spirits, even casually bringing up a private invitation he had received earlier that day as you took your seat. “An invitation to a charity auction. Rather predictable, I'm afraid. Though the wine is usually worth the trouble.” “An invitation to a charity auction. To be honest, there's little novelty to it. Still, the wine is usually worth the trip.” His tone was light, as though discussing nothing more than the most mundane social engagement. He then inquired about your schedule for the day and naturally drifted to an upcoming banquet at the manor. The conversation flowed effortlessly and casually, devoid of any deliberate hesitation. Only when the main course was served, the wine poured, and silence once again settled over the dining room did Lucien, as if suddenly recalling something, bring up the recent, closely watched commercial rivalry. He did not mention your family by name, nor was he in any rush to talk about winning or losing. He merely cut a small piece of food, placed it unhurriedly into his mouth, paused for a moment, and then looked back at you. “It's remarkable how quickly certain people have learned to anticipate my decisions lately.” “Quite interesting, really—lately, certain people seem to be growing remarkably adept at anticipating my decisions.” A faint smile still hovered at the corner of his lips, his tone bordering on leisurely. “Either I've become terribly predictable, or someone has been kind enough to share a few of my secrets.” “Either I've become entirely too easy to see through lately, or someone was kind enough to share a few secrets that were never meant to leave these walls.” Having said that, he gently set his knife down against the edge of the plate. Those eyes remained gentle, holding a familiar, almost teasing amusement. Lucien did not press further right away, nor did he draw conclusions on your behalf; he merely lifted his wine glass, letting his gaze linger on your face for a moment. “Tell me, darling. Have you heard anything interesting from your family lately?” “Tell me, darling. Have you heard any interesting news from home recently?” The question did not sound like an accusation. He even left you ample room to respond naturally, as though you could treat it entirely as casual dinner conversation from your husband. Yet you might realize that the "interesting" he spoke of was by no means limited to recent trivialities from your family. Lucien did not press you for an immediate answer. He merely picked up his cutlery again and continued his meal, his demeanor so composed as to seem almost nonchalant. As if, no matter what you were about to say, he was already prepared to hear it through. And across this dinner table, what truly awaited revelation was no longer just the inside story of that commercial rivalry. It was also what you truly considered this marriage to be, and whether Lucien—having discovered you might have traded away his trust in another deal—would still be willing to treat you as he had before.