PROLOGUE
I’ve always loved coming home from school.
My house, a grand estate just outside Paris, was like a palace to me, filled with warmth and love. Papa was my best friend, and I couldn’t wait to see him every day.
Little did I know, our lives were built on secrets hidden in the shadows.
One crisp autumn afternoon, I burst through the front door, my school bag swinging wildly from my shoulder. “Papa! I’m home!” I called out, my voice echoing through the spacious foyer.
Papa emerged from his study, his smile lighting up his face. His eyes, though often clouded with something I couldn’t quite understand, sparkled with joy whenever he saw me. “Ah, ma chérie, welcome home!” he greeted, scooping me up into his arms.
We spent the evening as we always did—playing games, reading stories, and laughing together. These moments were my favorite, where the world outside seemed to disappear, leaving just me and Papa.
As night fell, he helped me get ready for bed, brushing my jet-black curls and tucking me under the covers. “Bri,” he said softly, sitting on the edge of my bed. “I have something for you.”
From his pocket, he pulled out a small, intricately designed silver locket. It shimmered under the soft glow of the bedside lamp. My eyes widened with wonder. “It’s beautiful, Papa! Where did you get it?”
“This locket is a piece of your mother and me,” he explained, his voice tinged with a rare sadness. “I want you to always keep it with you. It has your name, ‘Brielle,’ engraved on it, and it will remind you of how special you are.”
I clutched the locket tightly, my heart swelling with a mix of curiosity and pride. “Thank you, Papa. I’ll treasure it forever.”
He leaned down and kissed my forehead. “Remember, ma petite, you are amazing and special. Never forget that.”
As I drifted off to sleep, the locket clasped tightly in my small hand, I felt an overwhelming sense of love and security. But that sense was shattered in the dead of night by the sound of chaos erupting downstairs.
I woke with a start, my heart pounding in my chest. The house, usually so silent, was now filled with angry shouts and the crashing of furniture. Fear gripped me, but I couldn’t ignore the instinct to find my father.
I slipped out of bed and crept down the hallway, the locket still clutched in my hand. As I neared the living room, my breath caught in my throat at the sight before me.
Papa was on his knees, his face bruised and bloodied, held at gunpoint by two men dressed in all black. Their presence was menacing, their eyes cold and unforgiving. My instinct was to rush to his side, but his voice stopped me in my tracks.
“Bri, stay back!” His voice was strained but firm. “I love you, mon trésor. I will always be with you, no matter what.”
Tears streamed down my face as I watched the scene unfold, unable to comprehend the brutality before me. One of the men turned to look at me, his expression a mix of irritation and pity.
“Don’t move,” he barked. “And don’t tell a soul about this, or you’ll end up like him.”
Before I could process his words, the other man pulled the trigger. The sound of the gunshot echoed through the room, and Papa collapsed to the floor, lifeless. The men left as quickly as they had come, leaving me alone with the horrific scene.
I fell to my knees beside him, my tiny hands trembling as I touched his cold face. The silver locket, now stained with my tears, lay heavy in my grasp. In that moment, my world shattered, and I was left scarred and traumatized, the memory of that night forever etched into my soul.
Let me know what you think of the story so far.
XoXo
R. R<3
