CHAPTER- 7

CHAPTER- 7

[Rosalie’s pov]

The blanket was pulled to my chest, clenched tight in my fists. MY back rested against the ornate headboard, but the softness of the bed offered no comfort. It felt too luxurious for someone like me. Too clean for someone who’d slept in the dirt just yesterday.

Across the room, seated in a deep armchair near the window, he watched me like a hunter watching a wounded animal.

He didn’t say a word. Legs casually crossed, fingers steepled beneath his chin, his stare was calm—too calm. Like the silence before a storm.

I looked away. I could feel my heartbeat in my throat.

Say something.

Explain. Tell him why you were there before he decides you’re lying.

But the words tangled inside me like thorns.

He already thinks I’m hiding something. I can see it in his eyes. The way he studies me—like I don’t belong here. Like I’m dangerous. Or pathetic. Maybe both.

I took a breath and tried to speak. “I wasn’t lying. About my name, I mean…”

No response.

“I didn’t go into that alley to… to steal or cause trouble. I was just trying to get away.”

Still, he said nothing. His gaze remained on me—unblinking, unreadable.

“I ran away,” I finally whispered. “From home.”

That made his brow twitch—just slightly. I wouldn’t have noticed if I hadn’t been watching for any crack in his cold façade.

“Why?”

His voice was quiet but heavy. Sharp as a blade despite its calm.

My throat closed up.

Do I tell him the truth? That my mother locked me up like a secret? That I never met my father and the moment I asked about him, she treated me like a curse? That I was nothing more than a prisoner in my own home?

But the words were too much. Saying them out loud would make them real. So I said the only thing she could manage.

“…It wasn’t safe for me there.”

His fingers flexed once before returning to stillness.

“You expect me to believe that?”

My heart jumped.

“I don’t expect anything from you,” she said, quieter now. “But I’m not lying.”

He leaned forward slightly in the chair, elbows on his knees, voice like ice.

“Girls like you don’t just end up in my alley unless they’re running from something. Or toward someone.”

I blinked, startled. “I didn’t even know who you were—”

“Exactly.” He tilted his head. “And that’s what makes it interesting.”

A tense silence fell between them again. He stared at me, but this time… something had shifted. It wasn’t just suspicion. There was curiosity too.

After a long moment, he stood up from the chair with slow, deliberate grace.

“Get up,” he said, turning toward the door. “You’re not staying in bed all day.”

Then he paused, hand on the doorknob. He didn’t turn around when he added:

“If you decide to tell me the whole truth—make sure it’s worth my patience.”

The door clicked shut behind him.

I stayed frozen beneath the blanket, staring at the space where he’d been sitting.

He doesn’t trust me. But he’s giving me time. Why?

I didn’t have the answer.

But one thing was certain:

If I stayed here, sooner or later, I would have to tell him everything.

Even the parts I hadn’t yet admitted to herself.

[Sebastien’s POV]

The door clicked shut behind me with a quiet finality.

I didn’t look back.

My steps echoed down the hallway as I descended the grand staircase, one hand sliding into my coat pocket, the other curling into a loose fist. The girl upstairs wasn’t panicked. She wasn’t broken.

She was calculated.

Prepared clothes. A backpack. No bruises, no panic in her eyes. Just fear—controlled, buried. The kind that didn’t come from a single bad night, but from something far deeper.

And that made her a problem.

I reached the end of the stairs and pulled out my phone, hitting the encrypted speed dial without hesitation.

Call: Luca [Private Line]

The line picked up almost immediately.

“Boss,” came Luca’s crisp voice.

“What did you find on Rosalie Fontaine?”

A pause.

“…That’s the thing. Nothing.”

I stopped walking. The word echoed.

Nothing.

I turned slightly, looking out the tall glass windows at the courtyard, the city lights flickering faintly beyond the gates.

“Nothing?” I said quietly, dangerously.

“No school records. No public databases. I tried searching hospital records, utilities, even bank tags. If she’s ever existed legally, it’s been erased—or hidden too well.”

My grip on the phone tightened.

“She ran away from somewhere. She had clothes. A plan. That’s not some street girl, Luca. Someone raised her like a secret.”

“I know, boss,” Luca replied. “And secrets like that? Usually come from money. Or power. Or both.”

That… aligned with the feeling I couldn’t shake since I first saw her.

“Dig deeper,” Sébastien ordered. “Family connections, birth registries, anything. I want to know who she is. Who protected her. And why no one’s come looking.”

“And if someone does come looking?”

I narrowed my eyes, voice colder now.

“Call me before they get past the gate.”

I ended the call without another word.

I stood in silence.

The chandelier’s light cast a faint shadow along the marble floor, and in that moment, I could almost see her again—sitting quietly on my bed, fingers clutching the blanket like a shield. Not trembling. Not lying. Just… holding something back.

“You’re not just a girl in trouble,” I muttered to myself. “You’re someone’s secret.”

And that made her dangerous.

Or valuable.

Either way, I was going to find out.

“Find anything you can,” I murmured, almost to myself now. “No matter what it takes.”

[Rosalie’s pov]

The hallway outside my room was too quiet.

I stood there for a while, hand still on the doorknob, unsure whether to go back inside or take another step. Every inch of this house felt foreign—cold in its beauty, silent in a way that made my skin crawl. Like the walls themselves were watching.

But staying locked up in that room was worse. I needed to move. Even if my heart was pounding like a drum in my chest, even if my legs didn’t feel steady.

I walked slowly, arms wrapped around myself like some fragile shield. The house was far too big—wide halls, tall ceilings, expensive things placed so perfectly they didn’t look real. Like I’d stepped into a life that didn’t belong to me.

Step by step, I reached the top of the grand staircase. My breath caught.

There he was.

Sitting like a king on a throne — a black velvet couch beneath him, one arm resting on the side, the other holding a crystal glass of something gold that caught the light. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, revealing those tattooed forearms, and his eyes…

They were already on me.

I froze.

He didn’t say a word. Just stared — quiet, unreadable, as if he’d been waiting for me to appear all along.

Something inside me twisted. My feet were on the first step, but suddenly they felt like stone.

Then he spoke.

“Come here.”

My breath hitched.

It wasn’t a question. It was a command.

I hesitated — just for a heartbeat — and then obeyed. One step after another, slower than I meant to be. The carpet softened my footsteps, but not the way I felt. I walked toward him like someone approaching their own fate.

I stopped a few feet away, barely daring to look at him straight on. I could feel his eyes burning through me.

“Now,” he said, voice cool and steady, “do you want to tell me what you were really doing in that alley?”

I looked down. My fingers dug into the sleeves of the sweater I was wearing. My throat was dry, and for a second, I thought I wouldn’t be able to speak at all.

But I had to.

Lying wouldn’t work on him. And maybe… maybe I was just tired of holding it in.

I looked up, meeting his gaze. My voice was soft, but it didn’t tremble.

“I ran away.”

Something flickered in his eyes. He didn’t interrupt. So I kept going.

“My mother…” I swallowed. “She kept me locked up most of the time. I wasn’t allowed to go anywhere. Not alone. Not with friends. I never had any, actually. The house was my prison, and she—she used to call it protecting me.”

I let out a bitter breath.

“But it wasn’t protection. It was control. It was… punishment. Every time I asked why, every time I begged to live like a normal girl, she’d lash out. Shouting, slapping, locking me in my room for days. I stopped asking. But I never stopped wanting to leave.”

The words were spilling out now, and I couldn’t stop them even if I wanted to.

“So I left. I waited for her to fall asleep, packed a bag, and I ran. I didn’t know where I was going. I just kept walking until I couldn’t anymore. And I ended up in that alley. I just wanted to rest for a moment. Just… breathe.”

My voice cracked at the end.

“Then those men found me.”

I didn’t say what they tried to do. I didn’t have to.

Because he knew.

He didn’t move. He just stared at me, silent, still. And for the first time, I couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

Pity?

Disbelief?

Or something far more dangerous?

But I didn’t look away.

I’d told the truth.

And now… whatever happens, happens.

[Sebastien’s pov]

She was telling the truth.

Or at least… she thought she was.

I watched her closely — every blink, every breath, every time her fingers gripped the edge of her sleeve like she needed something to hold on to.

She didn’t cry. Not once. No dramatics. No shaking voice meant to soften a man’s heart. Just cold, clean pain in her words. Like she’d lived in silence for so long, even her suffering had forgotten how to scream.

Still, I couldn’t trust her. Not yet.

People lie.

They lie best when they’re desperate — and she was definitely that.

But something about her story didn’t sit wrong. Not exactly. It felt real. Ugly, quiet, and honest. And that made it more dangerous than any sob story I’d ever heard.

I leaned back against the couch, eyes still on her. She didn’t fidget. She didn’t beg. She just stood there, waiting, like she knew I was the one holding the next card.

I ran my tongue lightly across my teeth.

Not yet, little dove. I’m not done picking you apart.

Luca still hadn’t found anything. That was the real problem.

No digital trail. No medical records. No friends. No enemies. No past.

No one vanishes like that unless someone made sure they did.

I’d wait. Once my men brought back something — anything — I’d know what game she was playing.

Until then… I’d listen. I’d watch.

And I’d let her talk.

“What kind of help,” I asked, voice flat, “were you expecting from someone like me?”

She met my eyes — and to her credit, she didn’t flinch.

“I don’t want money,” she said quietly. “Or favors. Or anyone to fight for me.”

She took a breath, and her voice steadied, just enough.

“I just need a place to stay. For a little while. So I can find work. Feed myself. Start over.”

Start over.

She made it sound so simple.

But in my world, nothing ever was.

I watched her for another long second. She didn’t lower her gaze. Didn’t back down. She was scared — I could see it — but there was something else in her now too.

Fire.

Maybe she didn’t even know it was there.

I leaned forward slowly, resting my elbows on my knees, letting the silence stretch out between us.

“And what,” I said softly, “do you plan to do in return?”

She blinked.

Just once. But it was enough.

The slight furrow in her brows, the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes — I saw it.

Confusion.

Like my question hadn’t occurred to her. Like she truly believed asking for a place to sleep and a chance to survive didn’t come with strings.

Naive.

Or just very, very good at pretending.

I let the silence stretch again, watching her. Measuring her.

Her mouth parted slightly, as if she wanted to speak, but the words didn’t come.

That’s when I exhaled. Just once. Slow. Quiet.

And I leaned back.

“I don’t do charity, Rosalie.”

Her eyes lifted to meet mine again — wide, guarded.

“You want to stay?” I said, voice low but certain, “You will earn it.”

There. I said it.

No apologies. No pretense.

Let her understand exactly where she stood now.

This wasn’t kindness.

This wasn’t a favor.

This was a deal. A transaction.

And now… I waited to see what kind of girl she really was.

Author's Note:

Thank you so much for reading the prologue of His Only Exception. This story means a lot to me-it's a mix of everything I love writing: raw emotion, intense characters, dangerous choices, and the kind of love that changes everything.

Sébastien and Rosalie's journey will be far from easy. It's messy, painful, passionate-and full of secrets that could break them before they even begin. But I promise, every chapter will bring you closer to the truth behind their hearts.

If you connected with this chapter, I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments. Your support, even a simple heart or word, means more than you know and keeps me going.💬❤️