Chapter 21: The broken bonds
The massive iron gates of the Levistis Mansion creaked open, revealing a long, winding path that led up to the stately yet cold building that had once been Leclair’s home. The mansion loomed ominously in the twilight, its gothic architecture casting long shadows across the ground. Leclair sat in his wheelchair, staring at the imposing structure with a mixture of disdain and determination. Beside him, Augustin stood silently, his hand resting on Leclair’s shoulder, offering silent support. The memories of this place were not kind to either of them, but today wasn’t about the past—it was about justice.
"I hate coming back here," Augustin muttered, his voice filled with distaste.
"I know," Leclair replied, his tone measured. "But we don’t have a choice. This is for Ethan. And for Adrian."
Declan, standing a few paces behind them, shifted nervously. "You sure about this, boss? Lady Sachel isn’t exactly known for her hospitality."
Leclair smirked. "Hospitality is the last thing I expect from her."
With that, the trio moved forward. Declan pushed Leclair’s wheelchair, his gaze shifting warily toward the mansion. As they approached the grand front door, it swung open, revealing one of the house attendants who nodded respectfully to Leclair and led them inside without a word. The tension in the air was palpable, the cold, lifeless energy of the mansion pressing in on all sides.
Leclair and Augustin entered the grand hall, the familiar smell of old wood and rich, suffocating perfumes hitting their senses. They didn’t have to wait long. Lady Sachel appeared at the top of the staircase, her presence as imposing as ever. Dressed in a dark, elegant gown, she descended slowly, her sharp eyes scanning the room until they landed on Leclair. A smile crept across her face, but when her gaze shifted to Augustin, the smile disappeared, replaced with a sneer of disgust.
"Well, well," she said, her voice cold and haughty. "Look who’s come crawling back."
Leclair’s eyes darkened, but he remained composed as his mother approached them. Lady Sachel’s disdainful eyes flicked between him and Augustin, her nose wrinkling in contempt.
"And you," she spat, glaring at Augustin. "You dare to bring this... this creature back into my house? How many times do I have to remind you, Leclair, that he is not welcome here? I told you before, and I’ll tell you again—get him out. Now."
Augustin stiffened beside Leclair, his jaw clenching, but he said nothing. He had expected this, yet it still stung every time. Before he could move, Leclair reached out, grabbing Augustin’s waist firmly and pulling him onto his lap. The gesture was protective, possessive even, and caught both Augustin and Lady Sachel off guard.
Leclair’s lips twisted into a smile as he held Augustin close. "Augustin is my wife, Mother," he said calmly, his voice steady but filled with an undercurrent of defiance. "And there is no way he’s leaving. Not now, not ever."