Sacha? How did I not know his name? My brows furrow. No one has said it since I arrived. Almost as if it’s…taboo? Forgotten?
Jean-Luc’s expression softens, and he nods. “Yes, I knew him. Your grandfather was… complicated. Powerful, yes, but corruptto his core. He’d taken over at a young age when his own father passed. The power went to his head. He was ruthless, greedy.
“I was young, eager to prove myself, and he saw that. He took me under his wing, in a manner of speaking. Showed me the ropes, taught me what it meant to be part of this world. But it wasn’t all bad,” he adds quickly, as if to reassure me. “There were moments of honor, moments where I thought we were doing something good. But they were few and far between.”
“What happened?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. There’s a heaviness in his words that makes me think this story doesn’t have a happy ending.
Jean-Luc’s eyes drift to the floor, his hands still for the first time since we started talking. “There was a job,” he begins, his tone growing more somber. “It was supposed to be simple. Just a handoff, money for goods. But it went wrong—terribly wrong. The other side double-crossed us, and before I knew it, bullets were flying. I lost friends that day, good men who had families, who didn’t deserve to die like that.”
He pauses, swallowing hard, and I can see the weight of those memories pressing down on him. “Your grandfather—he didn’t take failure lightly. Blamed me for what happened, even though there was nothing I could have done. Said I should have known, should have been more careful. He made an example out of me, had me beaten, humiliated in front of the others. But he didn’t kill me. No, he said that would be too easy. Instead, he let me live with the guilt, with the knowledge that those men died because of me.”
My breath catches in my throat. I can’t imagine the pain, the betrayal Jean-Luc must have felt. “That’s horrible,” I manage to say, my voice trembling.
Jean-Luc looks up at me, his eyes meeting mine with a mix of sadness and resignation. “It was a long time ago, Skylar. I’vemade peace with it. In this world, we all carry our burdens. That was mine.”
“Was it always…Did things get…” I don’t know how to ask if things improved when my grandfather died. From what I’ve learned these last few days, he was the problem in Le Milieu. When Charlotte took over, things seemed to have improved.
I swallow hard and shake my head. The guys seriously had this place all wrong. They thought my parents were murderers, but it was always their father.
“Did things get better when Sacha passed?” he asks gently. I nod and he lowers his hands, stretching out his muscles. “Would you like my complete honesty?”
“Yes,” I say immediately, then glance away. “Everyone here is trying to walk on eggshells around me, and I understand why. I haven’t exactly been the strongest person lately, but it’s just…” I flounder, searching for the words. “It’s been a lot. I had no idea who I was until arriving here. I thought Madeline was my mother, and even her I’d forgotten.”
“What do you mean, forgotten?” he murmurs. His voice is so familiar, so kind, I find myself opening up when I vowed I wouldn’t.
“After I was dropped off at that hospital,” I hedge, looking anywhere but at him. “I went through a really rough time. I sustained a lot of bad injuries in the explosion. Looking back on it now, I guess I was just way too close and too small. I hit my head.”
I rub the spot as the ghost of my injury blooms. It’s not real, I know that. But it feels real. If I focus, I can even imagine the thick line of stitches, the swelling, the pain.
“Anyway,” I drop my hand. “I forgot a lot of things. Memories they weren’t sure would ever come back. I didn’t know my name or age. The doctors were nice, but they were just as lost as I was.”
“How long were you there?” he asks. I blink, surprised he doesn’t already know. He smiles. “Forgive me. I have memory issues of my own, but alas, mine are due to age and far too much wine.”
I chuckle and he blushes adorably.
“I was there for just over two months while I healed. And then, I was taken into a foster home where I spent the next few years, until…” I trail off and he grips my hand, squeezing.
“We don’t need to rehash the past hurts, Skylar. We know what that evil man tried to do.” He smiles kindly, but there’s pain behind his eyes. “We’re just so proud of you for reporting him before anything could happen. That we were able to secure Daniel and Evelyn as emergency care workers to get you out.”
My mouth falls open and a harsh breath leaves me. “Wh-what?”
Is that what they think?
Holy shit.
No wonder everyone here has been so casual, so utterly…simple, about my past. They have no idea what happened. But more than that, they think they actuallysavedme from it.
I shake the thoughts away and turn back to Jean-Luc.
“Finish your story,” I practically demand, then wince. “Please.”
I can tell he wants to know more, to dig deeper into my past. I don’t know why, but I have the sense that he’s incredibly intuitive and likely knows I’m hiding something. He stares at me for a long moment before his shoulders deflate and he jerks a nod.
“Sacha getting cancer and dying is the best thing that happened for many people,” he says bluntly. I swallow thickly, my eyes burning.
“Charlotte was young. She never wanted this life. She grew up living in the shadow of her two older brothers. In this world, men are valued as more.”
I flinch, and he nods sympathetically.
