The building stood like a wound that never healed.
Concrete. Rusted railings. Windows blinded with dust and neglect.
Ivy's chest tightened the moment she stepped out of the car.
"This place…" Her voice faltered. "I've been here before."
Lucien shut the door behind her with a quiet finality. "I know."
The morning air was sharp, biting. Security stayed back, giving them space—too much space.
This wasn't a visit.
It was a reckoning.
"You said my father made a mistake here," Ivy said, forcing herself to move forward. "What kind of mistake ends with you marrying me?"
Lucien didn't answer immediately. His gaze was fixed on the building's upper floors.
"My mother died here," he said at last.
The words hit like a blow.
Ivy stopped walking. "What?"
"A fire," Lucien continued, voice steady but brittle beneath the surface. "Ten years ago. Evidence vanished. Testimonies changed. One man stood in court and said he saw nothing."
Ivy's heart pounded. "My father?"
Lucien turned to her slowly.
"Yes."
Her head shook instinctively. "No. He wouldn't—he couldn't."
"He did," Lucien said coldly. "And because of that, the case collapsed."
Ivy's breath came shallow. "You're wrong."
"I've been wrong before," Lucien replied. "Not about this."
They entered the building.
The smell of ash still lingered, trapped in the walls like memory refusing to die. Every step echoed too loudly.
Ivy's pulse screamed in her ears.
"I remember smoke," she whispered suddenly. "Sirens. Someone shouting my name."
Lucien froze.
"You remember?" he asked quietly.
She pressed a hand to her temple. "I was running. I fell. Someone pulled me up."
Lucien's jaw clenched. "Who?"
"I don't know," she said, panic rising. "I don't remember faces. Just heat. Fear."
They reached a scorched staircase.
Lucien stopped. "This is where my mother was last seen."
Ivy's knees weakened.
"That night," she said slowly, "my father came home bleeding. He said he tried to help someone."
Lucien's eyes snapped to her. "Help who?"
"I don't know!" she cried. "He never said. He just told me to forget what I saw."
Silence crashed down.
Lucien's control cracked—just slightly.
"What did you see?" he demanded.
Ivy squeezed her eyes shut.
"I saw a man," she said. "Dragging a woman away from the fire exit. She was unconscious."
Lucien went still.
"That wasn't in any report," he said.
"Because my father was threatened," Ivy whispered. "Someone warned him. Told him if he spoke, I'd disappear."
Lucien's fists clenched.
"Who?" he asked.
Ivy shook her head. "I never knew."
They stood there, the truth clawing its way to the surface.
Lucien took a step back.
"If this is true," he said slowly, "then the wrong man walked free."
"And the wrong people were punished," Ivy replied.
Lucien looked at her like he was seeing her for the first time.
"You weren't complicit," he said. "You were collateral."
Her voice trembled. "So you married me for a lie."
Lucien didn't deny it.
Outside, a sound echoed—footsteps.
Lucien's head snapped up.
"We're not alone," he said.
Before Ivy could respond, a voice rang out from the shadows.
"Still digging into graves that should stay closed, Lucien?"
A man stepped forward—smiling, confident, dangerous.
Ivy's blood ran cold.
She recognized him.
He was the man from the fire.
Lucien moved in front of her instantly.
"Daniel Cross," he said darkly.
The man chuckled. "And you brought the girl. How poetic."
Ivy's hands shook. "He's the one," she whispered. "He's been watching me."
Daniel's smile widened. "Careful, Ivy. Some memories are fatal."
Lucien's voice dropped to a lethal calm.
"You just signed your death warrant."
Daniel laughed. "You already did—when you married her."
The threat hung heavy in the air.
Ivy realized the truth at last—
This marriage wasn't built on revenge anymore.
It was built on war.
And the enemy had finally stepped into the open.