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ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʜᴀᴅ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇᴅ.

The sameness of everything around her, unsettled her stomach. It reminded Valentine too much of before. That should have been a good thing, considering her fond, loving memories of Michael Gray. But they were tinted now- a deep and murky grey- just like everything she could see as she walked down the familiar road to her father's home.

The clicking of her shoes did nothing to calm the nerves that bubbles in her stomach. They were ivory and decorated with pearls, fresh from Paris. Valentine hated everything about them.

Stopping by at number sixty two, Valentine sighed, hands grasping for each other at her chest. Even then, the brass knocker door was glaring at her, a dark seething snarl being emitted as she pushed it down against the chipped wood. Once. Twice. And a third.

I know what you did. It seemed to say.

The door was swung open with a startled gasp, her parent's faces appearing, her brother in view in her periphery, standing motionless in the kitchen. While there was hint of surprise lingering in his dull eyes, Gabriel Dubois seemed no more excited to see his daughter than a robber would to see a policeman. It was as if she had caught them in the middle of something, much to their displeasure. Even her mother's smile was a little less dazzling than it should have been.

"Valentine?"

Her name was the only thing that could pass his lips. Valentine swallowed, lifting her chin in a bid to calm herself. Brushing past him carelessly, she met her mother half way, smiling faintly as she was enveloped into a hug. She could sense the hesitance.

"Morning," she greeted, pleading that her own voice would not betray her, and would instead sound strong and unbothered. "Surprise!"

Valentine was beckoned toward the dining table, where the three met her brother, already sat down lazily, his hands slung in his pockets without care. Her mother and father sat either side, tucking themselves in politely. But until she sat down, Lucas' dark stare didn't leave her. What'd changed to make such a hostile reception?

I know what you did. His look seemed to say.

But how could he possibly?

Two years had passed since her wedding. In those long years, she'd seen her family twice. Yet still, they hadn't changed. Her parents still sat with that prim and posh stature that she loathed, and her brother was as arrogant as ever, dressed in his affluent style.

Valentine couldn't say that she regretted the lack of contact though. The wedding in itself was disastrous; her family's presence only added fuel to the fire. Her mother had gotten so drunk that Lucas and Gabriel had to carry her back to her room before the night had even ended.

Valentine wasn't as sober that night as she'd like to admit. Perhaps Camille understood. Perhaps she wanted to drink to forget about the vile man who she was willingly giving her daughter away to. Or at least, Valentine liked to imagine that- at least then her mother would care. She didn't mind the drunkenness though either, it was an excuse to escape from Jean's tipsy hands and Caroline's snarky comments, that never seemed to rest.

If only she'd know that it would only get worse from then.

"My darling, what are you doing here?" The question held more accusation than worry.

"I couldn't be in Paris anymore?"

She shook her head, thinking of a way to tell them the true reason. But the words couldn't form. Valentine was afraid. Afraid to say the wrong thing. To say something that would give her up.

"But your husband?" Camille exclaimed, shaking her head in confusion.

"Is Jean Pierre here? Where is the man?" Her father asked, eyes wide.

Her mother asked again. Lucas was still staring.

"My husband is dead!" She snapped.

Valentine dropped it in, watching as her her mother's face dropped, her father remaining still.

"Jean Pierre was murdered."

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Sorry it's tiny, I had to cut a lot out to make the chapters flow better and I didn't know what to add in place. New chapter soon x