Greed: Part 1

Chapter One: The Price of Gold

Beneath the glow of chandeliers,

Where whispered words fuel fleeting years,

A man of wealth, of power grand,

Held all but love within his hand.

His name—Lucian D’Avare bold,

A prince of coin, a king of gold.

With silver tongue and cunning mind,

He bent the world to wills unkind.

Yet love, that force no wealth could sway,

Had brushed his path in reckless play.

A stolen kiss, a moonlit tryst,

With Selene, fate’s delicate twist.

Her eyes were stars, her voice a song,

Yet fate decreed their love was wrong.

For Lucian’s house, both proud and wise,

Had sealed his fate with marriage ties.

A union forged in power’s name,

A bride unknown—a lifeless claim.

Eleanor Vale, a rose confined,

Betrothed to one with heart resigned.

“My love,” Selene, in shadow, sighed,

“Why must you stand where love has died?

Your hands hold wealth, your steps command,

Yet chains are placed by duty’s hand.”

Her touch was fire, her breath was sweet,

Yet Lucian felt the ground retreat.

For though his heart in passion burned,

A silent truth within him churned.

“My fate is sealed, my path is set,

A debt repaid, a house’s bet.

Eleanor waits, with hands so pure,

Bound by a vow I must endure.”

Selene recoiled, her gaze like steel,

“A gilded cage you’ve come to feel.

But love, my dear, is not a game—

Will gold embrace you all the same?”

A storm arose within his chest,

Between his love and fate’s behest.

Yet duty’s weight, though cruel and cold,

Still bound his soul in chains of gold.

Beyond the walls of hollow halls,

Where fathers schemed and wealth enthralls,

Eleanor sat with heart confined,

A bride unseen, a fate assigned.

She traced her name in candle’s glow,

A whispered dream—a wish to go.

Yet duty’s voice, both sharp and stern,

Had taught her well—she must not yearn.

“I do not ask for grand romance,

Nor foolish dreams of lover’s dance.

But let him see beyond my name,

Beyond the chains, beyond the shame.”

Her heart was kind, her soul was deep,

Yet locked within a vow to keep.

She knew too well—the man she’d wed

Loved someone else, his heart had bled.

Still, love untainted, soft and true,

Would bloom despite the bitter view.

A patient seed in frozen earth,

That waits for spring to bring its birth.

As days marched forth, the halls were bright,

With gilded silk and pearls of white.

Yet Lucian’s steps, though firm, were slow—

A man entrapped, a heart in woe.

Selene had vanished, lost in pain,

A ghost now wreathed in love’s disdain.

Yet Eleanor, with quiet grace,

Met Lucian’s gaze—no sign of place.

No plea, no cry, no desperate vow,

Just solemn warmth upon her brow.

And in her eyes, though soft and still,

Lay something strong, a force, a will.

“I do not ask for love untamed,

Nor seek to set your heart aflame.

But let us walk not bound in hate,

And find in time a kinder fate.”

Her words were light, yet laced with steel,

A quiet strength, a fate made real.

And Lucian, bound in cold embrace,

Saw something strange within her face.

A flicker small, a whisper bright,

A seed that stirred beneath the night.

Yet love was lost, or so he swore,

For hearts once torn could heal no more.

A tale begun, yet not yet done,

Where love is lost, but wars are won.

For though the heart may fight its chains,

No fate remains untouched by pains.

And in the end, when vows are true,

Could love arise from something new?

To be continued

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