Ethan Moreau had everything.Money. Security. A name that opened doors from Manhattan to Montmartre. His father, Damien Moreau, was a towering figure in New York real estate, while his mother, Amélie Laurent, was a Parisian-born fashion magnate. Together, they were a tycoon couple whose wealth stretched across oceans.
But Ethan's life wasn't like anyone else's—because he remembered another.A small apartment, fluorescent lights, deadlines at a job he hated, and nights spent scrolling through anime and cartoons. He remembered dying in that life, then waking here—reborn into wealth, privilege… and a world he once thought fictional.
Paris. Miraculous Ladybug. Heroes and villains hidden under masks.And most importantly—her.
Zoé Lee.
In his past life, she was just a character on a screen. Chloé Bourgeois' younger half-sister, gentle in a world that demanded cruelty. Someone he admired from afar because she felt real despite being fictional.
And now? She wasn't pixels. She wasn't fiction.She was real. And engaged to him.
Paris smelled different from New York—less iron, more history. Ethan stepped out of the terminal in a sharp black jacket, pulling his suitcase behind him. A sleek black town car waited, the family crest stamped on its side.
Zoé stood beside it, golden hair falling to her shoulders, a pale yellow dress complimenting her hazel-green eyes. She smiled when she saw him, though shyness softened it.
"You're taller than the last time we met," she said as he approached.
Ethan gave a small grin. "And you're exactly how I remember. Which is… good, by the way."
Her cheeks turned faintly pink. "We're not children anymore."
"No," he said, tossing his suitcase into the trunk. "We're future business partners. Or, you know, whatever engaged people are supposed to be."
Zoé laughed, a soft, nervous sound as they climbed into the back of the car. The driver pulled them smoothly onto the road toward central Paris.
For a while, silence filled the car. Zoé traced patterns on the window with her fingertip, watching the Parisian streets roll by. Ethan studied her from the corner of his eye. She wasn't like Chloé. She didn't command attention with a sneer or force her presence into every moment. She seemed almost afraid to take up space.
"So," Ethan broke the silence, "one year. Then we're officially stuck with each other."
Her head snapped toward him, eyes wide. "You… don't mind?"
He leaned back, crossing his arms casually. "Honestly? I'm okay with it. Could've been worse."
Her lips parted in surprise before curving into the smallest of smiles. "You're… not what I expected."
That's because you don't know the truth, Ethan thought. In another world, I already knew you. And I liked you, Zoé Lee. Enough to want this future.
The next morning, Ethan walked through the gates of Collège Françoise Dupont alongside Zoé. His accent gave him away immediately—he was American, New Yorker sharp compared to the flowing French of the students around them.
Whispers followed."Who's the new guy?""He's with Zoé Bourgeois, right?""No, not Bourgeois… Lee. She's Chloé's half-sister.""Wait—are they holding hands?!"
Ethan let the murmurs roll off him. He didn't care about gossip. He cared about Zoé, who looked like she wanted to disappear under the stares.
"Relax," he murmured, leaning close. "Walk tall. They'll get used to it."
Zoé's eyes flickered to his, hesitant, then steadied. "Thanks."
Of course, not everyone was content to whisper.
"Well, well, well."
The voice cut sharp across the courtyard. Chloé Bourgeois, queen bee of Dupont, descended upon them in her signature yellow jacket and high-heeled strut. Sabrina trailed dutifully behind her, arms full of notebooks.
Chloé's eyes narrowed at Ethan first, scanning him like he was an accessory. "Who exactly are you supposed to be?"
"Ethan Moreau," he said calmly, meeting her gaze without flinching. "Your sister's fiancé."
The courtyard gasped. A wave of shocked murmurs rippled through the students.
Chloé's perfectly glossed lips parted, then curled into disbelief. "Fiancé? Her?!" She turned on Zoé, voice dripping venom. "Tell me this is some kind of joke. Daddy wouldn't—he couldn't—"
Zoé's hands trembled slightly, but Ethan slipped his fingers through hers before she could falter. He looked Chloé square in the eye.
"It's not a joke. And you should probably get used to it."
For once, Chloé was speechless. Her mouth opened, closed, then she spun on her heel with a sharp, "Ugh! This is ridiculous!" before storming off. Sabrina scrambled after her.
The courtyard buzzed with whispers again, but Ethan ignored them. Zoé's grip on his hand was firm now, steadier than before.
"You didn't have to do that," she said softly as they walked inside.
"Yes, I did," Ethan replied. His voice carried a weight she didn't yet understand. "I'll always do that."
That night, Ethan sat by the tall window of his family's Paris estate, gazing at the lights of the Eiffel Tower in the distance. His reflection stared back at him, gray eyes sharper than any seventeen-year-old's should be.
He had one year before the engagement became official. One year before the shadows of Paris pulled him into battles Zoé couldn't imagine.
In his drawer, the faint shimmer of the black bracelet—the Shadow Miraculous—waited like a heartbeat.
Ethan clenched his fist.
This world gave me another chance. This life gave me her. If I have to fight, I will. If I have to stand in the shadows, I will. Whatever it takes, Zoé… I'll protect you.