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Maman.

I can't believe I forgot about my mother.

"Monsieur." My voice comes out in a croak. My mother has always been my Achilles' heel and always will be. "My mother—"

"Is being cared for."

He says the words so, so simply.

"Her nurse has been informed that you're spending the night with a friend. By tomorrow, she'll know the truth—that her daughter has married well."

That he clearly doesn't understand what those words mean to me.

Maman...is being cared for.

The ropes around my wrists suddenly loosen. One of his men has moved behind me, freeing me on some silent command from his master.

"The ceremony will take place immediately,"Monsieur Le Derniersays.

I know I should be terrified. I'm about to marry the most feared man in Paris. A man who uses the same hand to threaten me with strangulation one moment and touch me with a gentlessness that bordered on affection the next.

That's the kind of man my future husband is..but who cares?

Maman...is being cared for.

I always thought I could die happy once I've taken care ofMaman.And the reason I have to remind myself every day that I still have a reason to live. And perhaps, that's still true. Only...it's not death that's about to take me away from her. But something just as dark. And inescapable.

But also...something more reliable than the God whom I used to believe in.

Because if You're real, then why do You let bad things happen to good people like Maman?

"Stand."

My legs are unsteady after hours bound to the chair, but my future husband doesn't offer his hand to steady me.

Unsurprising.

One of his men approaches with what appears to be a garment bag.

"Your dress for the wedding," he murmurs.

"Merci."

It's the only thing to say, since I've never been the type to cry over spilled milk.

I took a risk, stealing in one of his clubs, and now I'm paying the price with marriage.

C'est la vie.