A/N: Sooo…I kinda disappeared for a while, heh. I actually wrote 2 more chapters on this existing story which I decided not to post because the story was not to my liking, so I will be rewriting my rewrite, I guess. lol XD
A man pounded on the door, his wild gaze piercing the darkness within the room. The flickering lights cast a strange glow as he held the flashlight steady in his hands. Despite his age, he appeared remarkably youthful, with wavy brown hair bleached blonde and slicked back. Clad in a white suit and tie, his piercing blue eyes scanned the room intently, searching for something.
In frustration, he kicked a vase, causing shards of glass to scatter across the room. "Where is it?!"
A female voice groaned from behind him, "I can't believe I agreed to this. Couldn't you have at least organized this place?"
"I just moved everything here. I don't touch her stuff again," the man retorted sharply.
"No duh, Sherlock," the woman replied, swinging her flashlight to reveal a spiderweb adorned with trapped bugs. She then turned to a desk with drawers, uncovering a layer of dust. Picking up a framed picture, she wiped off the dust with her hands. "Look, Emilie, you, and me. We're no older than Adrien here."
The man's fists clenched, but he soon relaxed and straightened his tie. "Enough of that now. I called you here on professional terms, Nathalie. I'm not your high school friend anymore. You are to address me as 'sir' from now on."
Nathalie regarded him with a deadpan expression. "Oh, sorry, sir. I think you forgot that I'm the one who started and planned this whole thing from the beginning. Just a few years ago, you, Gabriel Agreste, you—"
Gabriel raised his hand, cutting her off. "Enough about me. You started it, and now you'll end it. It's as simple as that. You've brought us this far, haven't you? It's a fair exchange. And you'll be compensated for your efforts. What more could one ask for?" Gabriel rummaged through a couple of desk drawers, tossing stacks of paperwork onto the floor.
"I thought you had learned your lesson already but clearly, you haven't," Nathalie sighed. "I just don't understand, Gabriel. Why? Do you want your son to discover this? Do you want the police to get involved?"
Gabriel rubbed his temples in frustration. "I don't know, Nathalie. Do you want the police to get involved? Let's not forget the number of crimes you've committed and number of stunts you pulled to get us this far."
Nathalie closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them after re-gaining her composure. "Why did you suddenly offer me this job? You could've left me to rot on the streets. What do you want, Gabriel?"
Gabriel circled Nathalie like a hawk stalking its prey. "What do I want? Well, I'm glad you asked." He stopped, then bent down a little so Nathalie could feel his hot breath touching her ear. "I want you and me working together again, just like old times. After all, we're still friends according to you, aren't we?"
Nathalie pushed him away. "Working? You mean blindly following you as you bring chaos upon yourself and the entire city of Paris, giggling like a giddy schoolgirl? Sorry, Gabriel. I'm not Emilie 2.0. Your antics won't work on me. And we're hardly friends anymore, maybe acquaintances at best. So, spare me the sweet-talk."
"Too bad," Gabriel snarled. "I tried being patient with you. Here's the truth, no sugarcoating. I'll make this very simple for you: You're stuck with me. Betray me, and you'll go to jail."
He chuckled, opening a drawer that contained exactly what he was searching for. "Bingo. One for you, one for me." He tossed her a peacock-shaped brooch.
Nathalie caught it with one hand, while with the other, she traced Emilie's outline on a larger painting of her. "I'll agree to work alongside you, under the condition that I won't take the fall for any of your actions. I'll do my best to assist you, but if all else fails, I won't be the one ending up in prison—you will."
"Fair enough, because nobody is going to prison. I have a plan, and it will work," Gabriel declared. He fetched a ladder and began removing the painting, then handed it to Nathalie, who placed it gently on the floor.
Clearing his throat, Gabriel spoke into thin air. "This is Gabriel Agreste."
"Access granted. Welcome," a robotic voice greeted him, and they were immediately transported to a dome-shaped area that emerged from the wall. It reminded Nathalie of movie scenes where characters would lean against a bookcase, revealing a secret room. However, this was no movie—it was all too real. And Nathalie dreaded every second of it.
"Ah, just as I left it," Gabriel remarked, swatting at a couple of butterflies. He positioned himself directly in front of the only source of light in the room—a large, glowing teal circle.
A small, purple creature was summoned from his brooch.
"Hello, Nooroo. Had a nice slumber? Wakey wakey, it's Hawk Moth."
Nooroo flitted about happily, "Yay! Hawk Moth! You're back! But where's Peafowl?"
"Peafowl is gone, Nooroo." Nathalie said bluntly.
The purple kwami blinked in confusion. "Gone?"
"Yes. Gone. As in she's never coming back now, unless we decide to do something about it. If I do recall accurately, you once told me that with the rise of a dark power, the guardian of the miraculouses will have no choice but to recruit superheroes against said dark power, correct?"
Nooroo swallowed. "Correct, master."
"And these superheroes will wield the black cat and ladybug miraculouses. Also correct, I presume?"
Nooroo's tail drooped. "Yes, master."
"Good."
"But master!" Nooroo squeaked, "The miraculouses are not meant for evil!"
"I have a simple goal, Nooroo. I'm sure you have realize what it is by now. I do not seek world domination or absolute power. My wish is pure, as are my intentions."
Nooroo opened his mouth to protest, but Nathalie snapped at him. "Stop at once." She turned to Gabriel. "If you're seriously intending on going through with this, we're wasting too much valuable time."
"You're right."
Nooroo trembled. "No, please, no…you don't have to do this, Gabriel. I can help you. You could be a superhero!"
Gabriel's voice boomed through the done-shaped room. "We could have been superheroes! Obey, you wretched creature!"
Nooroo hung his head. "As you wish, master."
"Dark wings, rise!" Instantly, Gabriel's entire outfit transformed. A long cape trailed behind him, a large scepter materialized in his hands, and he adorned a bulletproof vest and royal-themed armor in purple, black, and silver. The disguise covered his face entirely, with his eyes now glowing purple. He was unrecognizable.
In the cozy embrace of her pastel-pink haven, Marinette Dupain-Cheng sat poised atop her chair. Every item on her desk was carefully arranged and color-coded. The pastel curtains were open, letting in sunlight, which cast a warm glow over her entire workspace. Her phone rested on a neat stack of books, playing soft classical music.
With a focused grace, the girl dipped her paintbrush into watercolor palette and then brought it onto her paper. She hummed softly as she added the finishing touches to her piece— a woman dressed in a blue gown with a fancy hat.
It was done.
The black-haired girl smiled and stepped back, admiring her creation. She fixed the artwork to her wall right next to her other drawings. She stared at it all for a minute. The pictures seemed to go together seamlessly— each page she hung up had a drawing of a refined man or woman with chic, formal clothing. It looked as if they were all attending some sort of hoity-toity ball together.
Marinette sighed, flopping onto her bed. A small TV rested on her nightstand, and she turned it on with a remote.
"Don't be bemused, it's just the news!" A woman with dyed magenta hair said, "This is Nadia Chamack, live on Paris news. Since yesterday there have been a shocking number of different crimes committed, all one after another. From bizarre disappearances to sudden disruptions in various parts of the city, Parisians are left wondering what's behind this unprecedented wave of events, and how long it will last. The first day of school has already been postponed for a week, and businesses are adjusting their meetings to take place online instead of in-person. Residents are strongly urged to remain indoors."
Marinette's eyes widened as she listened intently.
"Authorities are working tirelessly to investigate these occurrences, and while details are scarce at the moment, some eyewitnesses claim to have seen figures with extraordinary abilities at the scenes," Nadia continued, her tone shifting to one of intrigue.
The mention of "extraordinary abilities" sent a shiver down Marinette's spine. She was never one to believe in the paranormal or anything magical, but considering the state of Paris right now, anything was possible.
"The city is on edge as citizens wonder if these incidents are isolated or part of a larger scheme. One witness claims—"
Marinette quickly turned the TV off. She didn't need to hear any more unsettling details. She sank further into her pillow. While the crimes were undoubtedly frightening, a small part of her felt relieved that school was delayed. She had never been a bad student, in fact, she was quite the opposite. She was an honor-roll student. Straight A's, never missed a deadline, always respectful to teachers. The problem was her crippling social anxiety. She didn't want to go back and endure Chloe's bickering for the gazillionth time either.
Who really wanted to go back to school, anyway?
"Adrien Agreste!"
Adrien let out an exasperated sigh as he shut his laptop. He had just installed a new game and was about to play it when his father's voice interrupted him. Gabriel sure had a knack for calling him at the most inconvenient times.
He stood up from his desk and stretched. Pushing back his blond hair, he made his way out of his room and toward his father's office. The elegant interior of the Agreste mansion surrounded him. Everything was a breathtaking masterpiece, with marble statues around and glorious chandeliers—a beautiful home for Gabriel and an overly romanticized prison for Adrien.
He knocked on the office door, and when he heard his father's voice inviting him in, he entered. Gabriel's office was spacious and organized, just like everything else in their home…well, except for Adrien's room. The muted colors and sharp modern decor matched Gabriel's personality to a T. They were boring yet sleek, just like him.
Adrien greeted his father with a curt nod. Gabriel, seated behind a grand wooden desk, looked up from his papers.
"You wanted to see me, Father?"
Gabriel removed his glasses and regarded his son with a stern gaze. "Sit down, Adrien." He gestured to a row of 3 black chairs in front of him, which were usually designated for his clients during meetings. Adrien sat down.
"We need to address your academic performance," he began, his tone firm.
Adrien's gaze shifted, his annoyance growing. He had anticipated this conversation, but that didn't mean he was eager to participate in it.
"Yes, I know there's been a decline in my grades recently. I'll fix it." Adrien said dryly.
Gabriel rubbed his temples. "Do you really think this is a recent change, Adrien? You have been like this for the past 3 years, Adrien. I simply cannot handle it anymore."
Adrien's fingers picked at the edge of his chair impatiently. Suddenly, he felt a vibration in his pocket.
He instinctively reached for his phone, sliding it beneath the table to hide his distraction.
Gabriel snatched the phone right out of his hands, depositing it with a pile of others. Adrien scowled in annoyance. That was his fifth backup phone that Gabriel had managed to confiscate this week.
His father's voice continued, drawing him back to the present. "Not even paying attention, Adrien?"
The phone buzzed again in the pile.
"Don't even think about it."
"Wait, father, please! This might be something important!" Adrien hissed urgently, "I promised my manager I would be there by 4 today for a photo-shoot. I have to listen to him or—"
"You have to listen to your father, young man. And I say, stay put. No, you may not have your phone back."
"I work for you, father. I model your clothes. I even model the stupid swimwear. I make money and it all goes to your bank account."
Gabriel groaned, dragging his hands down his face in an exaggerated manner, "This isn't about money, Adrien. Lord forbid I have an understanding, dedicated son like Felix who isn't interested in girls and parties and whatnot."
Adrien frowned. "So that's what's this is really about? Wanting a life outside of this house isn't about interested in 'girls and parties and whatnot', as you call it. Maybe if you actually let me outside for once so I could—"
"You could what? Get even more distracted? On your last exam you got a 20."
"Out of?"
Gabriel face-palmed, "20 percent, Adrien."
"Oh. But still! I know for sure I passed at least three."
Gabriel's brow furrowed. "Mediocrity is not acceptable," he said firmly. "You have a responsibility to maintain the standards that have been set for you."
"Maybe you should take this as a sign that I need a break from all of this," Adrien retorted, his voice tinted with bitterness. "It's suffocating. Normal people go outside and breathe fresh air. I'm not even allowed to take a walk around the street."
Gabriel's eyes hardened. "You are not a normal person."
"And why is that?" Adrien challenged, staring directly into Gabriel's eyes.
"Because you're an Agreste." Gabriel's voice rose progressively louder with each word. "Because you're fortunate to have access to the best education, and because your mother and I practically handed your life to you on a silver platter so I will not tolerate this level of disrespect!"
Adrien shrunk back, clearly hurt by Gabriel's outburst.
Gabriel's eyes softened a bit and his voice became quieter, "Listen, Adrien. We are a wealthy upperclassmen family and you should be thankful for that. This is not a difficult concept to grasp. Some people are simply above others, and you are one of those people. Act like it. You're my son, and whether you like it or not, I expect you to have enough self-respect to at least play the part."
"If being your son means being your prisoner, I don't want to be your son."
"If not for me, then do it for your mother. She always valued knowledge and discipline. You should honor her legacy."
Adrien clenched his jaw, his hands balling into fists at his sides. His mother this, his mother that. Whenever Adrien didn't want to do something, the conversation immediately somehow had a "your mother" wedged in it somewhere.
Which was frankly very ironic, considering how Gabriel never dared utter Emilie's name, not even once. In fact, he couldn't stand it. Adrien had no need to tell Gabriel a scathing insult when just the word "Emilie" would hurt ten times more.
Hell, Adrien knew he couldn't even bare looking at a photo of her. And so he'd stripped the walls bare to replace any Emilie pictures with other paintings, or even worse: pictures of himself with his clients. Said clients were mostly pretty mistresses in lavish clothing whom he designed apparel for.
Adrien cursed himself in his mind for his thoughts. Gabriel would never do anything like that, but yet Adrien still hated the fact so many women came to visit their home nonetheless.
"I don't think Emilie would appreciate you using her as a way of making me do what you want." Adrien blurted out before he could stop himself.
The room seemed to hold its breath as Adrien's words hung in the air. Gabriel's eyes flashed with a mixture of surprise, anger, and something else Adrien couldn't quite put his finger on. Adrien's heart raced, unsure of what he had just unleashed.
"Emilie is not here to defend herself, Adrien," Gabriel replied slowly. "And this is not about her. This is about you and your future."
Adrien's shoulders tensed. He had crossed a line, he realized, but he couldn't bring himself to back down now. "My future? You mean the one you've planned for me in which I have no say in?"
Gabriel's jaw tightened. "You have no idea what it takes to run a business, to uphold a legacy. The Agreste name carries weight."
Adrien's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Ah, the great Agreste legacy. The empire built on underpaying models and designing dresses for old codgers. How lovely. How could I ever hope to live up to such grandeur?"
Gabriel's eyes narrowed. "Enough, Adrien. This is not a negotiation."
"Of course not," Adrien shot back. "Negotiations require two parties willing to consider each other's perspectives."
Gabriel was scarily composed, while Adrien's chest heaved in anger, his hands clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Usually it was the opposite. Adrien hardly lost his temper, ever. But this could be his only chance to take a stand for himself.
Gabriel leaned forward. "You will return to your studies. You will improve your grades. And you will follow the path that has been set for you. Is that clear?"
This was it. Adrien had lost the fight. Gabriel's word was final, and he knew it.
"Crystal clear, Father." Adrien fought to keep his voice steady, avoiding Gabriel's gaze.
"And," Of course Gabriel wasn't done yet. Adrien glanced at the clock. Gabriel's hour long lectures were becoming disgustingly common by now, "I have hired someone to help you with your studies. Nathalie Sancoeur. Treat her with respect. She is only here to help you."
Nathalie Sancoeur. Why was he not surprised? Adrien was about to make a snarky comment about how he didn't need a nanny and how close Gabriel was getting with his female assistant, but thought better of it.
Instead Adrien only nodded and pretended to collect his things. Gabriel looked over to the side to arrange some papers, and Adrien managed to swipe a framed picture from Gabriel's desk into his book bag without him noticing. He exited the office, and the door shut softly behind him.
Adrien's fingers closed around the frame containing the picture of Amelie, her husband, Gabriel, and Nathalie. He hesitated for a moment, staring at the faces captured in the photograph.
He stormed into his room, tossing the frame onto the floor in anger. If he couldn't rebel with his words, he would rebel with his actions.
Adrien's eyes fell on the closet where he kept his collection of modeling gear. The closet was a treasure trove of memories, filled with the creations of his mother's brilliant designs. Adrien's hand reached for a polished shoe from the collection. He turned it over in his hand, his fingers tracing the elegant curves and intricate detailing.
He looked down at the photo. With a sharp inhale, he put on the shoe, raised his foot and brought it down onto the picture. The glass gave a satisfying cracking sound under the pressure, shattering the image of Nathalie. Cracks spread like spiderwebs over Nathalie's face.
Adrien walked over to the closed door and knelt down. He slid the frame underneath the small gap beneath the door, still fuming at how unjust it all was.