The Architect Who Rose Anew

t an Empire." It was supposed to be a triumph for me and

hand over my life's work-my museum project-to Bryn,

my career. He sided with her lies, even as I lay bleeding on the fl

ged me from my hospital bed, accused me of faking it for

on my dreams. He had become a monster, and I was l

new resolve hardened within me. They thought they had

pte

e Herr

face, even though my face was the one smiling bac

louise Herring: The Archi

an afterthought, read, "And

posed to b

sion. It turned out to be

ring on my back, felt like a block of

ation that had once drawn me in, were now cold and dist

ow. He hated that the world saw m

he soft intimacy it usually held in our bedroom. He wasn't askin

poured onto paper, years of sketches, sleepless nights, every line a pi

er, thin and reedy. It felt like I was

n't an

Bryn stood, her innocent eyes wide, h

startled fawn, b

fore. Axel, the ever-chivalro

pulling her close, a gesture he hadn' t o

the from the pain. This wasn't the man I married. This wasn't the Axel who swore he

e low, a dangerous rumble that used to thril

very contact, every idea. Or I will make sure you never work in this ci

cket of ice water, drenc

t, almost imperceptible smile playing on her lips. She looked u

ct. This was about power. T

o once told me I was his muse, his equal. "Axel, how can

resh. Undiscovered. She' s exactly what the Horne Group needs to show it's not just Elouise Herring's arch

n site, mud splattering his expensive shoes, watching me sketch. "You're a force of nature, Elouise," he'd whispered, his eyes blazing wi

t just suggestions, "Maybe you should slow down, darling." Then more direct interference, "That client is

a desperate plea for him to see beyond his shattered ego. "She doe

ll be there to guide her. She's eager. Unlike some people who

o. A careless shove during an argument, quickly followed by lavish apologies and flowers. He' d swor

ver four years of my life?"

And a lesson for you." His eyes narrowed. "Don't make this mo

ed in my stomach. I looked at Bryn. She smiled, a small, knowing s

that made her giggle. They walked out of the room, leaving me standing alone, t

he front door closing. They were gone. He hadn't

ending not to notice me, not to notice the wreckage of my life. My assistant, Clara, hurried over, her fac

tion. I could already hear the questions, the whispers, the judgment. My vision blurred. I tr

he sharp pain brought a sudden clarity to the haze of my mind. It w

drunk, his hand raised. My mother, shielding me, taking the blow. T

und her, pulling her close as if to protect her from the throng of reporters. She looked up at him,

. This was about control. About breaking me. And he had succeeded. But in breaking me, he had also set m

I could represent, as long as it was his achievement. He loved the idea of

Axel and Bryn. A faint, almost imperceptible, smile touched my lips. T