Imagine if The Secret History and A Discovery of Witches had a love child, but then that child grew up, took a semester abroad in Paris, and came back fluent in Arthurian legend and generational trauma. That’s The Estate. It’s magical, it’s suspenseful, and it’s basically the dark academia fever dream your bookshelf didn’t know it needed.
First of all, Camille Leray is a mess in the best way. She’s ambitious, flawed, and occasionally catastrophic—which is to say, relatable. She’s out here trying to resurrect her career, but also, you know, dealing with the minor inconvenience of being able to literally jump into paintings .
Casual. And while her magical art historian vibes are impressive, the real heart of this book is how it explores her messy relationships: the female friendships that ground her, the (super hot, obviously complicated) Maxime Foucault, and her chef’s kiss parental trauma that keeps spilling into her present.
So, after nuking her reputation, Camille decides the best way to redeem herself is by saying yes to a mysterious, wealthy aristocrat who casually owns a castle and needs help solving an art mystery. Enter Maxime Foucault: rich, broody, and practically screaming “I have a tragic backstory and a suspicious family.” Every time he entered the room, I was like, “This man owns at least one cursed object,” and I was right.
Speaking of the chateau: THE VIBES. Immaculate and terrifying. It’s like Versailles, but if Versailles had secret passageways and a tendency to eat people’s souls. Every scene in that house felt like a slow descent into madness, and I mean that as the highest compliment. The chateau is a character in its own right—luxurious, suffocating, and so tangled up in the Foucault family’s secrets that you almost expect it to start talking.
What really makes The Estate stand out is that it’s not just about magic and mystery—it’s about Camille confronting herself. This isn’t a love story about Camille and Maxime (although, yes, the tension is chef’s kiss). It’s a love story about Camille and her own identity, her power, and her messy, traumatic relationship with her past. The magic isn’t just magic—it’s a metaphor for the way we create, destroy, and rebuild ourselves, and it’s tied to everything Camille is running from.
The writing is lush, the suspense is perfectly paced, and the one true friend Camille has is a breath of sanity in her whirlwind of bad choices. The ending? It left me staring into space questioning all my life decisions. If you like dark academia with a side of emotional damage, this one’s for you.