Chapter 147: The Last Evening
The sun dipped lazily across the hills of S••••••• F••••, casting its golden gaze across the estate's sloping vineyards and stone terraces. A rare softness lingered in the air — quiet, warm, and full of unspoken promises. A perfect afternoon for a farewell not yet spoken aloud.
Eva sat cross - legged on a blanket embroidered with tiny violets, her long lashes flickering as she leaned against her Maman Evelyn's side. Her mére — Aunt Vivienne, sat across from them in a linen dress, the breeze toying with a few wisps of her dark hair. The picnic spread between them was a labor of love: hand - tied tea sandwiches, lavender madeleines, and pale fruit tarts glinting with apricot glaze.
"Two weeks," Evelyn said gently, brushing a few crumbs from Eva's cheek. "Just two more weeks, and we'll be home again."
Eva's eyes sparkled. "Back to N•••••?" Her voice was featherlight but bright.
Evelyn smiled. "Yes, little dove."
Eva flung herself forward, crawling across the blanket with urgency only a child of six could muster. She wrapped both arms tightly around Vivienne's waist and clung like ivy.
"Back to Ina. My Ina!" she beamed. "I want to bring her everything. The cakes, the lace ribbons, the music. I want to sleep on her lap again!"
Vivienne chuckled softly, stroking her back. "Greedy little dove. Will you have time for us too?"
Eva looked up, her lips wobbling into a pout before breaking into a wide smile. "Always! I love you both forever!" she said, now throwing herself into Evelyn's arms.
Evelyn kissed the crown of her head, eyes glimmering. "Then come, love. We still have daylight left."
They walked back together just before twilight, hands linked, Eva skipping ahead only to come back and demand another kiss, another cuddle. Her voice echoed through the halls of the estate, a bright fluttering thing that contrasted with the deeper shadows settling across the marble floors.
That night, after a warm bath scented with chamomile and neroli, Eva slipped into a simple nightwear and padded barefoot into the drawing room. Her mére, curled in a velvet chair, was reading a collection of L•••• poetry. Evelyn stood at the tall windows, gazing out across the lands they'd borrowed for safety. The air between them was thick with something unspoken.
Eva tiptoed to her room. She grabbed her tablet, switched on the secure call line, and waited — heart pounding. The screen flickered, and Seraphina appeared, her pale grey eyes wide with anticipation.
"I'm coming back, Ina," Eva whispered. "Two weeks."
Seraphina's face lit up, and then — without warning — she smirked. "My little moonbeam is returning to me. Finally. I've gone hungry all this time without my sweetheart's lunches."
Eva's cheeks flushed immediately, turning that perfect shade of rose that gave her away every time. Her ears warmed; she turned, flustered — and gasped.
Vivienne was standing just outside the doorframe, arms crossed, phone lifted. "Oh, don't stop now," she teased. "This is going straight into the archive."
"M - Mére!" Eva squeaked, burying her face in a pillow as Seraphina laughed on the screen.
"I'll make you blush even harder when you're back," Seraphina said, loving every second.
Vivienne eventually left with a wink, leaving Eva to whisper promises through the screen. They spoke of everything they would do: the breakfasts they would make together, the new music Eva had composed, and the secret stash of ribbons she'd been saving just for Ina.
Their call ended with a familiar, sacred ritual. Eva lay with her head tilted toward the pillow, eyes half - lidded, pretending she was resting on Seraphina's lap. Seraphina smiled, her voice a whisper. "You better know where you belong, my little moonbeam."
Eva didn't reply in words — only in the gentle flutter of her lashes and the hand that clutched at the screen.
Later that evening, after Eva had finally fallen asleep, nestled beneath her favorite wool blanket and clutching a ribbon Seraphina had once sent her, the mood in the estate shifted.
Evelyn and Vivienne met in their private suite, locking the door behind them.
Vivienne reached for Evelyn's hand. "Two weeks," she murmured. "And then we're separated again."
Evelyn didn't answer with words at first. She stepped closer, cupped Vivienne's cheek, and kissed her deeply. It was a kiss of longing, of all the years stolen from them, of all the moments they dared not savor too openly in front of Eva.
Vivienne responded with a hunger that surprised them both, her hands tracing Evelyn's spine, pulling her close until nothing stood between them. They tumbled to the bed, their movements slow but deliberate. Fingers laced into hair, lips mapped each other's skin like sacred scripture. Their bodies aligned with the rhythm of a love grown in secret and protected fiercely.
Vivienne arched as Evelyn whispered into her ear, "I want to remember this night — when it was just us and our little girl, far from the weight of legacy."
Vivienne's breath caught. "She's ours, Evelyn. No matter what the world says. I carried her in my heart before I ever touched her."
Their bodies tangled, moving in a harmony that needed no music. Breathless gasps filled the air, quiet moans lost beneath silken sheets. And when it was done, Evelyn lay with her head on Vivienne's chest, tracing soft circles into her skin.
"She doesn't know," Evelyn whispered. "The wolves will come one day, and she still doesn't know how deep the blood runs."
Vivienne tightened her embrace. "Let her have this peace, Evelyn. Please. Just a little longer."
"I thank you," Evelyn said suddenly. "For giving up so much. Your freedom, your name, your claim. You left with her to protect her."
"She's worth everything," Vivienne replied, tears slipping down her temples. "And so are you."
They fell asleep entangled, kisses still warm on their skin, hearts aching with a sacrifice only mothers could understand.
The next morning came quietly. The wind whispered through the shutters; the house remained hushed. Eva awoke early and crept into the garden where morning glories clung to the wrought iron fence. She knelt, touched the dew, and whispered to herself, "Two weeks."
Later that day, Reginald called her into the study.
He stood by the fireplace, arms behind his back, eyes sharp. "Your scores are improving," he said coolly. "But that means nothing."
Eva stood silently, spine straight, hands behind her.
"You're still too emotional. Still too easily coddled by Aunt Vivienne. And your Maman," he added with a scowl, "believes I'm too harsh. She forgets the world doesn't care about softness."
Eva said nothing.
"You're the heir, Eva. My heir. That means you don't get the luxury of rest. Or weakness. Understood?"
"Yes, Papa."
"Good," he said. "I've arranged new studies. Diplomacy, finance, internal strategy. You'll begin this week."
"Yes, Papa. I will never disappoint you."
"You're a child still. But not for long. Drill it into your mind — no one must know what we prepare. Not Vivienne. Not Evelyn."
"I understand."
"Repeat it."
Eva swallowed. "No one will know. I will never disappoint or dissatisfy you, Papa. I promise."
He stared for a long time. Then, with a nod, he left the room.
That night, Eva crept into Vivienne's arms, her tiny hands gripping the collar of her mere's blouse.
"I wish… you were my real other mother, Mère," she whispered.
Vivienne froze.
"I mean, I know you are, but… if it could be true."
Vivienne kissed her cheeks, then her forehead, then her lips. She held her close, rocking her gently.
"I am your mother," she thought silently, tears falling where Eva couldn't see. "Always have been. Always will be."
And as the night wore on, the little house in F••••, far from legacies and bloodlines, pulsed with love's quiet promise — a promise not of power, but of sanctuary, of family, of home.