HOUSE OF MIRROR

The Blackthorn estate looked less like a mansion and more like a kingdom built for sinners.

Luxury cars lined the massive circular driveway while armed guards stood beneath towering black pillars, their eyes cold and alert beneath the rain.

Inside the estate, crystal chandeliers glowed above hundreds of dangerous people pretending to smile.

Mafia leaders.

Politicians.

Dealers.

Killers dressed in designer suits.

And somewhere among them—

Lucien Blackthorn.

Aurelia Vale stepped out of the car beside her parents, smoothing down the sleeves of her black silk dress. Rain kissed her bare shoulders before guards rushed forward with umbrellas.

Her father adjusted his cufflinks nervously.

“Stay close tonight,” he warned quietly.

Aurelia almost laughed.

“Since when do mafia parties become family events?”

Her mother’s expression tightened instantly.

“Lower your voice.”

Aurelia rolled her eyes but obeyed.

The moment they entered Blackthorn House, the atmosphere shifted.

Music echoed softly through the marble halls. Expensive perfume mixed with cigar smoke. Mirrors covered the walls from floor to ceiling, reflecting diamonds, weapons, fake smiles, and hidden threats from every angle.

Aurelia hated it immediately.

Too many reflections.

Too many eyes.

And yet the mirrors were not the reason tension filled the room tonight.

It was him.

Everyone felt it.

Lucien Blackthorn had not even appeared yet, but the entire house already belonged to him.

People spoke softer here.

Moved carefully.

Feared breathing wrong.

Because unlike the other mafia families—

The Blackthorns ruled.

Aurelia caught whispers the deeper they walked inside.

“Did you hear what happened in Milan?”

“They say Lucien killed him himself.”

“No one survives betraying Blackthorn.”

“Where is he?”

“Upstairs, probably watching.”

Watching.

The word made her uneasy.

Her father suddenly stopped walking when another mafia boss approached them.

“Sebastian Vale,” the older man greeted with a nod.

“Roman,” her father replied.

The two men shook hands while Aurelia’s attention drifted toward the grand staircase.

A massive mirror stood behind it, stretching nearly to the ceiling.

And within that reflection—

She saw him.

A tall man dressed entirely in black descending the staircase slowly, one hand resting in his pocket.

Conversation across the ballroom weakened instantly.

Power followed him like smoke.

Lucien Blackthorn.

Handsome.

Cold.

Terrifying.

His expression remained calm as dozens of mafia leaders lowered their heads respectfully while he walked past them.

But Lucien ignored everyone.

His gaze moved across the ballroom lazily until—

It stopped on her.

Aurelia’s stomach tightened unexpectedly.

He didn’t look away.

Didn’t blink.

Just watched her through the reflection of the mirror behind her.

Like he had found something interesting.

Something dangerous.

Her father noticed too.

And for the first time all evening—

Sebastian Vale looked nervous.

“Aurelia,” he said quietly, gripping her arm tighter than necessary. “Do not attract his attention tonight.”

Too late.

Because across the ballroom, Lucien Blackthorn was still staring directly at her reflection.

And slowly—

He smiled.