Chapter 178: Echoes Of The Past II

PAST ADRIEN’S POV

Adrien looks up at Alice, his voice barely audible. "This... this says I am handing over my trust fund management to you when I turn fifteen."

"It says you recognize your own limitations," Alice corrects him gently. She leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees, bringing her face close to his. Her perfume smells faintly of crushed roses and cold earth.

"You are not like the other heirs in our circle, Adrien. You do not have the mind for strategy. You do not have the spine for conflict. If we leave you with control over your inheritance, vultures will pick you clean within a month."

"I can learn," Adrien says, his voice cracking slightly as he looks toward his father. "Father... please. I’ve been studying the ledgers you left in the study. I understand the trade from last year—"

"Shut your mouth, Adrien," Henri snarls, stepping away from the mantle. "You don’t understand anything. Alice has been trying to protect this family from your stupidity for years! You do not have what it takes! You are incompetent, just like your mother was!"

Adrien flinches as if hit. "Father, I—"

The sound of the hit is sharp and surprising.

Alice’s hand retracts slowly, settling back against the fabric of her dress. The blow wasn’t heavy enough to leave a bruise, but the shock of it sends a fierce sting across Adrien’s cheek.

Adrien’s head is turned to the side. He stays frozen like that, his heart hammering violently against his ribs, his cheek burning hot.

"Do not raise your voice to your father," Alice says quietly. Her tone hasn’t changed. It is still soft, still measured, still dripping with polite disappointment. "And do not make excuses. Excuses are for weak, pathetic boys, Adrien. And you are already dangerously close to becoming one."

She reaches out, taking his chin between her thumb and forefinger. Her grip is surprisingly firm, forcing his head back around until he has no choice but to look straight into her eyes.

"Look at me," she commands softly.

Adrien looks at her. His eyes are wet, but he bites the inside of his cheek so hard he tastes blood, refusing to let a single tear drop.

"You think I am being cruel to you, don’t you?" Alice asks, her thumb pressing slightly into the skin beneath his jaw. "You sit there thinking your stepmother is unfair."

Adrien says nothing. He cannot speak even if he wants to.

"I do this because I know what you are," Alice whispers, her breath brushing against his cheek. "You are fragile, Adrien. You have your mother’s weak heart and her foolish belief that people are good. If I let you go out into the world thinking you are smart, or capable, or strong... they will destroy you. The other families will eat you alive. The press will tear you to pieces."

She releases his chin, stepping back and smoothing down her black dress.

"I am saving you from yourself," she says, picking up her tea again. "By taking the burden of your name and your money off your shoulders, I am allowing you to live a quiet life. You don’t need to be intelligent. You don’t need to be powerful. You just need to sit where you are told, say what you are given, and let your father and me handle the heavy work."

She tilts her head, glancing down at the tray where his burned speech lies in ashes.

"Now," Alice says, pointing to the paper on his knees. "Read the first paragraph for me. Let me hear how you sound."

Adrien stares at the paper. The letters blur together for a second under the grey light coming through the rain-streaked window.

His chest feels hollow, like someone reached inside his ribs and scooped out everything that made him want to stand up.

He feels small. So small that if he stepped outside into the rain, he might just wash away into the gutters and no one in this house would notice he was gone.

"Adrien," Alice prompts, her voice dropping lower. "We are waiting."

Henri flicks his lighter again.

Adrien swallows the blood in his mouth. He lifts the paper with shaking hands, his fingers leaving damp prints on it.

"I am humbled..." Adrien begins, his voice trembling so badly the words sound fragile, like glass about to shatter. "I am humbled to stand before you tonight..."

"Louder," Alice says simply, taking a quiet sip of her tea. "And smile, Adrien. You are supposed to look grateful."

Adrien closes his eyes for a fraction of a second. When he opens them, he forces his lips to curve upward into a stiff, hollow smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

"I am humbled," he repeats, louder this time, his voice echoing weakly against the cold walls of the room. "To stand before you tonight..."

Two hours pass in the sitting room.

Alice does not let him stop. Every time Adrien stumbles over a word, every time his tone lacks the exact rehearsed warmth she demands, she makes him start over from the very beginning.

By the time the tea on the tray goes cold, Adrien’s throat feels raw, like he has been swallowing broken glass.

"Again," Alice says flatly, her dress still pristine and unwrinkled as she sits across from him. "From line three. You sounded uncertain on the word ’privilege’."

Adrien’s hands shake so hard the sheet of paper vibrates in his grip. "I am... I am humbled to stand before you tonight under the guidance of my mother, Alice Dubois, whose grace and wisdom steer our household..."

"Pause longer after ’mother’," Alice interrupts smoothly. "You are supposed to sound overwhelmed by adoration. Try it again."

"Alice," Henri says from near the door, his voice heavy with boredom and impatience. "The driver is waiting downstairs. We need to leave for the evening reception at the club. Louise has been waiting in the main hall."

Alice glances at her small gold wristwatch, then looks over at Adrien. Her eyes sweep down his frame, taking in his trembling hands, his pale cheeks, and the faint red mark still lingering near his jawline where her hand landed earlier.

A small, pleased smile touches the corners of her mouth.