The morning light flooded the marble halls of the Belmont estate, yet its owner felt none of its warmth. Gabriel Moreau, one of Paris’s youngest magnates, stood by his window staring into the gardens below, where fountains sparkled under the sun. To the world, he was enviable — a self-made millionaire, a man whose charm and ambition had made headlines. But behind his confident posture lived a loneliness he could no longer ignore.
For nearly a year, Gabriel had been involved with Seraphine Duvall, a woman as dazzling as the jewels she wore. Society adored her. Every gala, every magazine cover painted them as the perfect couple. Yet Gabriel’s mind was restless. He could not escape the thought that Seraphine loved the life he provided more than the man he truly was.
Haunted by that doubt, Gabriel devised a cruel experiment. He told Seraphine that he had been in an accident, that his legs were paralyzed and he might never walk again. He wanted to know if her love would survive the loss of his strength and status. The lie felt wrong from the beginning, yet he clung to it, desperate for truth.