Trapped Between The Duclair Brothers

After a reckless mistake lands Aria Hart in the hospital, her father makes a decision that shatters everything she knows. She's being sent to Paris. To the mother who abandoned her. To a mansion that feels more like a prison. And to a family that was never meant to include her At Saint Clair Academy, Aria is thrown into a world of privilege, power, and dangerous secrets. And at the center of it all are the Duclair brothers. Adrien Duclair is warm, charming, and impossible not to trust. Lucien Duclair is cold, unpredictable, and everything she should stay away from. But when betrayal from her past follows her across continents and the Duclair family hides a truth darker than it seems, Aria realizes she's not just caught between two brothers. In a house where secrets are buried deeper than loyalty, Aria realizes the most dangerous mistake she could make isn't choosing between two brothers. It's wanting one of them at all.

Chapters

Chapter 4

Hours later, the gentle chime of the seatbelt sign pulled Aria from her thoughts. The jet descended smoothly, barely a tremor as it touched. No loud announcements, no rush of passengers, just quiet efficiency, which was quite bizarre, since she was used to regular airplanes, not that she travelled often either. Aria felt the jet slow beneath her, and before she could fully process it, the engines softened, and the cabin lights brightened.

They had landed.

When the door opened, cool air rushed in. Crisp, sharp, and unfamiliar. The private airstrip was calm and almost eerily quiet, a wide stretch of clean concrete bordered by trimmed grass and sleek security vehicles. No crowd, no noise. Just a simple black SUV waiting nearby, its windows tinted dark.

A man in a tailored suit stepped forward. "Miss Hart," he said politely. "I'm Marcel, I'll be taking you to the estate".

Of course, her mum wasn't there, Aria thought as she rolled her eyes in silence.

Aria slid into the backseat, the leather soft beneath her fingers, the car gliding forward almost silently. As Paris unfolded outside the window, her breath caught a mixture of wonder and apprehension swelling within her. Old stone buildings rose elegantly on the streets, balconies wrapped in iron railings, cafes just opening with chairs neatly arranged outside. The city's calm, graceful atmosphere stood in stark contrast to her tumultuous emotions, leaving her awed and out of place. Paris appeared self-assured, its beauty unquestioned, while Aria struggled to find her footing in this unfamiliar world.

Nothing like Brooklyn.

Nothing like home.

The SUV slowed as it turned onto a long private driveway. Tall iron gates stood open, gold details catching the light as the car passed through. Beyond them stretched manicured gardens, fountains carved from stone, and a mansion so large that Aria's breath caught before she could stop it.

This wasn't a house.

It was an estate.

The car came to a stop at the foot of wide marble steps. The engine shut off, and for a moment, everything was quiet. Too quiet.

Aria stepped out, pulling her suitcase behind her. The wheels of her suitcase clicked softly against the cobblestone driveway, the sound echoing in the open space. She barely had time to take it all in before a woman in crisp black and white uniform approached her.

"May I take your luggage, miss?" the maid asked with a smile

Aria tightened her grip.

"I can carry it".

Of course, she wouldn't hand it over, a little rebellious, yes, but she wasn't a spoiled brat.

"It's alright", a calm voice said.

Aria turned.

Cecilia stood at the top of the steps, perfectly composed in a tailored coat, her posture straight, her expression carefully neutral. She looked exactly how Aria remembered: elegant, distant, untouchable.

For a heartbeat, an old memory stung at the back of Aria's mind, her small hand wrapped in Cecilia's, sunlight streaming into their Brooklyn kitchen as Cecilia brushed her hair and murmured a lullaby. That memory felt impossibly far away now, thin and fragile against the cold edge of their reunion.

"Let her take it, " her mum added gently. "You must be exhausted".

Reluctantly, Aria released the suitcase. The maid wheeled it away with ease, and the moment her hands were empty, Aria felt strangely exposed.

Cecilia descended the steps slowly.

"Welcome to Paris, Aria".

Aria scoffed

"Sure".

The words slipped out before she could stop them.

For a short second, Cecilia paused. Something unreadable crossed her eyes. Guilt, maybe, before her expression smoothed again.

"We'll talk later", she said softly. "For now, you should rest."

No hug

No apology

No explanation

Not like Aria was expecting one anyway, Cecilia turned open the doors, and Aria followed quietly.

Inside, the mansion felt even more overwhelming: polished marble floors, a sweeping staircase, and chandeliers sparkling above her like distant stars. Staff lined the walls in silence; maids, a butler, perhaps a house manager each greeting her politely while their watchful gazes made her feel both fragile and out of place.

Then she felt it.

Eyes on her.

Aria glanced up.

Two boys stood near the staircase.

The older one leaned casually against the railing, dark hair falling into sharp blue eyes, his posture relaxed in a way that felt dangerous. A small silver bar pierced his eyebrow, catching the light just enough to draw attention to his already cutting gaze. One arm was inked from shoulder to wrist, a dark sleeve tattoo that stood out against his perfectly fitted shirt and hinted at things he didn't bother explaining.

He looked over slowly, openly unimpressed.

Lucien Duclair.

"Well," he said dryly, "you don't look like you belong here".

Aria stiffened.

"And you don't look like someone whose opinion I asked for".

Lucien's lips curled, not amused, not angry, just intrigued.

Before he could reply, Adrien shifted beside him.

He looked like Lucien's mirror image softened by sunlight. The same blue eyes, but warmer, brighter, the kind that actually invited people in. His blonde hair fell loosely over his forehead, slightly tousled, like he never bothered to tame it.

He was tall too, built just as solid, but where Lucien felt sharp and dangerous, Adrien felt easy, relaxed shoulders, open posture, confidence without the edge.

"Lucien", he murmured, shooting his brother a warning look before turning to Aria with a small, genuine smile, revealing his dimples.

"I'm Adrien", he added. "Welcome".

Aria nodded slightly, unsure of what to make of him.

The warmth in his voice caught her off guard, and she didn't like that it did.

"Ew, Aria thought, annoyed as she pushed the feeling away.

Cecilia cleared her throat, interrupting her train of thought.

"Aria, this is Valentin".

Aria turned to see Valentin Duclair standing a few steps behind Cecilia. Tall, calm, controlled. His presence felt heavy enough.

"We're glad you arrived safely", he said

"Yeah, right". Lucien scoffed as he walked upstairs to his room.

"Lucien, you will not disrespect your father like that". Cecilia yelled, but he was already gone.

A maid walked up to Aria and gestured towards the staircase,

Cecilia spoke again, easing the tension as Adrein and Valentin left.

"Your room is ready".

"What's his problem?" Aria said to herself as she rolled her eyes and followed.

She didn't understand why his words stayed longer than they should have.

Paris was beautiful.

The mansion was breathtaking.

But as she climbed the stairs surrounded by strangers who were supposed to be family, one thing became painfully clear,

This place wasn't freedom.

It was a gilded cage.

Continue to next part

I was the mute fisherman's daughter who married the King of New York, only to become his prisoner. Dante Vitiello didn't love me; he used my silence as a weapon and let his mistress, Valeria, rule my home. When Valeria poisoned herself to frame me, Dante didn't look for the truth. He drained my blood to save her life, then threw me into a freezing dungeon to rot among the rats. He planned to marry her while I shivered in the dark, telling me I was nothing but gutter trash. With no voice to scream and no way to fight, I chose the only escape left. I swallowed a vial of lethal pufferfish toxin, trading my life for a coma that mimicked death. I wanted to haunt him. I wanted my cold body to be his punishment. But when I woke up a year later, the world had changed. I wasn't in hell. I was in a clinic, and Dante was lying on the floor with a bullet in his temple. He had discovered the truth too late. To wake me up, he had accepted a deadly game of Russian Roulette. He signed our divorce papers with a steady hand, then pulled the trigger to buy my freedom. The monster was dead. And for the first time, the silence belonged to me.

Action Modern Romance

8.8

His Wish, My Dying Heart

8.8

I was dying from a terminal illness, but my husband, Broderick, thought it was just another one of my games to get his attention. He hated me, convinced I had betrayed him years ago for money. As I collapsed in agony, begging him to take me to the hospital, he grabbed my chin and whispered the words that shattered my world. "I will never forgive you. I hope you just… die." He then left me on the cold floor and rushed to the hospital to be with his true love, Kacey-my best friend. She was the one he worried about, the one whose own heart was failing. He never knew that the "betrayal" he despised was actually my sacrifice to save his family from ruin. He never knew the depth of my love, a love so absolute that even his cruelty couldn't extinguish it. So, when the doctors told me I was a perfect match, I made my final choice. I would grant his wish and give my heart to the woman he loved.

Modern Romance

9.6

I Signed the Divorce Papers and Married His Rival

9.6

In the fifth year of my marriage to Corey, rumors spread about a girl he was secretly seeing at a hotel, and everyone found out. To avoid being labeled as "the other woman," Corey presented me with divorce papers. He said, "Aura's father once helped me, and on his deathbed, he asked me to take care of Aura. Now that this has come out, I can't just leave her to deal with it alone." Over the years, Aura was always Corey's priority. In a previous life, when I heard those words, I was shattered and refused to divorce. I ended up with severe depression, and because Aura once casually remarked, "She doesn't look sick to me," Corey thought I was pretending, believing I was playing hard to get. He ensnared me in a scandal and filed for divorce. It was then I realized I could never compete with a debt of gratitude. In my desperation, I attempted suicide. But now, as I opened my eyes again, I signed the divorce papers without a second thought.

Billionaire Modern Romance

8.2

Mafia Princess's Vengeance for Lost Heir

8.2

At my ten-week ultrasound, I was supposed to be celebrating the future of the Falcone family. I was Isabella Falcone, wife to the most powerful Don in the south. But when the nurse called my name, the man who stood up beside his pregnant mistress was my husband. In the sterile silence of that waiting room, he chose her. He later confessed he was being blackmailed by her family-a weakness that was a death sentence in our world. That night, he moved his mistress into our home, into my bedroom, and locked me away like a prisoner in the staff quarters. He wasn't imprisoning his wife; he was guarding an asset. He needed the legitimate heir I carried to save his crumbling empire. His betrayal was absolute when his own mother and my adoptive parents arrived while he was away. They forced me to sign divorce papers, then told me they were taking me to a clinic. His mother pulled out a gun and pointed not at my head, but at my stomach. "We're terminating this complication," she said coldly. As they dragged me from the house, my world went dark. But through the haze, I saw a fleet of black cars blocking the gate. An army of men poured out, led by a face I had only ever seen in a photograph. Days earlier, locked in my room, I made a single phone call to the only man more powerful than my husband: my biological father, the head of the Chicago Outfit. And he had come to collect his daughter.

Mafia Modern Romance

8.5

My hand for her dream.

8.5

I thought my fiancé loved me, until the day I found out he ruined my hands so his first love could take everything I worked for. So I said yes to another man.

Billionaire Modern Romance

9.6

My Revenge: His Empire Crumbles

9.6

I woke up in my husband's office to a chilling discovery. Stamped across my face in bold, red letters was "USDA PRIME"-a cruel joke from his intern, Karma. But my husband, Josiah, the man whose tech empire I helped build, didn't defend me. He called it a harmless prank and shielded his mistress from my rage. The humiliation was broadcast for the world to see. He then gave her my custom anniversary gown and took her to a charity gala. As if that wasn't enough, she announced she was pregnant with his child. He chose her. He chose their new "family" over our seven years of marriage, over the memory of the child we lost together. The look he gave her, full of a tenderness I hadn't seen in years, shattered the last piece of my heart. So as he walked out the door with her, my lawyers walked in. At the next board meeting, I watched the color drain from his face as I froze every asset to his name. "Sign the divorce papers, Josiah," I said, pushing a pen across the table. "My responsibility now is to clean house."

Action Modern Romance

Trapped Between The Duclair Brothers

Chapter 4

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