Whether by intent or accident, the ventilation in Chester's room conspired to send gentle vibrations across comforting darkness, casting long, nearly spectral shadows across the smooth walls. At the edge of the bed, Lily perched uncomfortably, straight back, legs cramped underneath her. A quiet storm stirred just beneath the surface. The tray of food Chester had left behind remained precisely undisturbed.
She hadn't been able to sleep much. She couldn't. Every corner of the place was a study in same carefully measured niceness to make her forget she was not free.
She did not buy it.
The door opened.
Cameron walked in alone. No Chester, no guards, no tricks. His sleeves rolled again, but nothing between them this time. He looked tired, more human than he had any right to.
Lily watching him, did not move.
"I am not here to convince you I'm a good guy," he said.
"Smart," she muttered. "Would've laughed."
He positioned himself on the chair opposite her, leaning forward with elbows on his knees. The silence stretched till it was almost unbearable. Lily stared at him, waiting for whatever game this was to start.
Cameron seemed to want to talk, but it stopped him. His lips moved, but no sound was released. Something choked him. Not fear. Not doubt. Only the burden of everything that came with the truth.
His jaw clenched. He was looking at her. Really looking, his dark eyes steady and piercing, as if trying to burn right through whatever walls she still had standing.
Then, at last, he said it.
"I'm Luc," he said at length.
The words fell like a dropped wineglass, sudden and sharp.
Lily blinked. She didn't utter a word. She was still staring at him, shock-and-curiosity-storming in her eyes.
"My real identity indeed is Cameron Vergara. Everything I told you inside that taxi that day, every word was really true. But I am Luc. The Founder and the CEO of LUC at me.'"
Cameron reached into his back pocket and pulled out the mask. She watched him as he donned it: delicate, an art. He gazed at her differently while wearing it, revealing to Lily who he really was.
"You may have heard it, and I know you've seen my posters on the streets, or-"
"I know who you are. I saw your interview on TV," Lily interrupted.
"Yes. I started it when I was seventeen,"he said quietly. "Snuck my designs into an underground show in Marseille. Used a friend's stolen ID to enter. First collection was made from curtains, vinyl, and antique funeral lace."
Lily stared at him. "Why?"
"Because it was the only way I could exist," Cameron said.
He drew a breath. Memories flooded his mind once again, but he regained himself and spoke calmly.
"Look, I cannot tell you everything. But I'm here to convince you. I have my reason, and my goal is to destroy and bring Faith and Hope to the ground. As Luc, help me."
"Why would I help someone like you? You kidnapped me, stalked me, and I'm here right now, held against my will. I have nothing to do with you, and I don't care about your plans or your family problems. Please Cameron, no, Luc, please. I want to go home."
Luc stared flatly. "Faith built it Rue de Rêve on blood, pain, and stolen ideas. Designs she 'discovered' mysteriously just after interns got dismissed. Patterns taken from young creators who couldn't fight her. No one dared to go against her, and Hope helped her. I knew. I saw everything."
Lily's brow furrowed. "Then why bring me here? Why not just expose them publicly?"
"Because this world doesn't run on truth, Lily," Cameron said. "It runs on perception. Hope is untouchable because people believe she is. Her face is on billboards; her name is in every major investor's pocket. Faith is the power behind the curtain. The contracts. The lawyers. The iron cage of reputation. The justice system is flawed."
He stood now, pacing as his voice grew quicker.
"One press release will not bring them down. They can deny it and everyone will believe them. I need to dismantle them side by side-from within. To do that, I will need to be someone that they do not see coming."
Lily shook her head, still guarded. "So why do you need me?"
He stopped and turned. "I need someone able to wear my creations with my vision in mind. Someone who fits the imagination I have in my mind. That person will bring all my ideas to life with you. You're just perfect for the creations. From that perspective-"
Luc stands.
"You're the needle for my thread."
And when he said those words, moonlight came in through the slatted window above and hit him at just the right angle.
The darkness melted away from his face, exposing the sharp architecture of his features. Cheekbones high and proud, jaw defined, a faint scar curved just below the lip like a secret half-smile. Eyes once icy and calculating now glittered like liquid obsidian, utterly dark and depthless. The vanta black mask he slipped on earlier lay in one hand, like some phantom's face, and now it was of no use.
He looked almost angelic at that moment.
Not soft. Never soft, but hewn, like sculpted marble carved by hands both tender and angry. The fabric of the shirt clung to him, catching the light against the curve of muscle and tension in his shoulders. There was something menacing in his stillness, a stillness that holds before the storm breaks.
To Lily, he didn't look like a man. He looked like a warning, a prophecy in shadows and silk.
For one brief moment of sharp disorientation, she felt like she couldn't breathe. It felt like witnessing a god-not one of mercy, but one of retribution.
"This was never about fashion, Lily. It's about justice. You're the one person who can help me stitch truth into the seams of their empire."
Lily folded her arms. "You shouldn't have kidnapped me."
"I kept you,"he corrected. "This was my last resort."
"So, you couldn't accept no for an answer? You're that much of a coward? So, you go ahead and kidnap the woman who turns you on?"
She yelled, and Luc flinched just slightly. "I'm not going to lie to you. I need you. But I am not going to use you against your will. You will have to accept that. So I will now give you a second chance to take me up on my offer."
Her eyes were locked with his, and she put on a brave face.
"No. I'm not gonna do it."
Her response was steady and without a second of hesitation.
Luc sat down again, puffed out a breath, stared at his phone, and began scrolling.
"You know, there's this engineer professor at a famous college. Apparently, he was quite a good one."
He gestured again with the phone so she might see it.
There was a snap of the picture. Nothing special. An old man with a shabby coat, grocery bag in hand, standing at the curb; an ordinary view. Calm. Innocent.
Lily's gaze fell on the picture. She froze.
Her world tilted.
Her father.
Luc was staring at her with keen perception, not grinning. This was no bluff. It was blackmail.
"Too bad,"he quietly said. "Somehow the rumor is bound to emerge that he takes pleasure in molesting his students."
"Wh.. What?!" The word tore itself from Lily's mouth, an involuntary scream. She reached forward and snatched his phone from Luc's hand, looking at it as if the magic of reality might somehow transform it into something else. Something had to be done about somebody else.
But it wasn't. It was him.
Her lungs gasped for air, ticking off seconds in sharp, agonizing breaths. "You're lying," she said, pronounced. "You're bluffing. You wouldn't—he hasn't—he's never—"
Luc remained silent, observing her breakdown. Lily understood his silence.
"You're insane,"she said, and now her eyes burned. Her hands trembled. She clutched the phone as if that were all there was to hold on to in this very moment.
"You're seriously going to destroy a good man's life just to get me to wear your clothes?"she spat, words cracking.
Luc did not flinch. "No. I'm going to destroy two monsters. And if the only thread that can unravel them starts with you, then, yes, I will pull."
Memories of happy moments spent with her father replayed in her mind like a film loop.
She could almost hear his voice telling her to be strong. She could almost see him folding paper cranes on Sunday mornings. She could almost feel his love he poured into making coffee for her to stay awake with, without her ever asking.
Then she suddenly stood, the chair scraped loudly against the floor. Her jaw was clenched and her arms crossed tightly against her chest, as if to hold herself together.
"You're threatening an innocent man...for fashion?"
Luc stood as well, more slowly and with more decorum. "No. I'm threatening a legacy. And you are the one who could save it."
For a moment, it appeared as if she was about to slap him.
Instead, she turned away, her breath erratic. Her voice was low, yet sharp and glinting like fragmented glass, as she spoke.
"If I say yes, it certainly will not be because I believe in you. It will be because I love my father. I do know what it's like to lose everything."
Luc did not say anything for a while. Finally, his voice dropped low and a little tender.
"Then we finally speak the same language."