CHAPTER 8 THE BITTER TRUTH

Six months later, the penthouse felt unusually still.

Elara rested on the couch, one hand over her stomach, breathing softly as Marek walked in a slow pattern across the living room.

“Lucian is late again,” she murmured.

“He said it’s an important meeting,” Marek replied, though his voice held doubt.

He checked the security feed.

 “He left in a hurry. That usually means trouble.”

Elara sighed. “He said he’d be back before dinner.”

Marek’s brows furrowed. “He also said he’d keep his phone on. And it isn’t.”

Before Elara could respond, her phone buzzed… No caller ID.

She hesitated. Answered.

Nothing. Only silence.

She looked at Marek.

 “Something feels wrong.”

“Yeah,” he whispered. “I feel it too.”

Cut to the other side of the city

Lucian leaned over a dark booth in an abandoned warehouse lit by a single bulb.

Across from him sat a woman in a hooded jacket, hands shaking.

He frowned. “Start talking.”

She gulped. “Damien… he’s planning something short-term. Tonight.”

Lucian’s jaw tensed. “Tell me.”

“He wants Elara out of the way. And… and he wants you hurting, he claims you must pay for the pain you've made him feel.”

She rubbed her palms together nervously. “If I tell you everything, you help me leave the Hale family. Quietly. No blood sheds. Please promise”

Lucian’s breath sharpened. “I told you…. I don’t kill unless I have no other choice.”

“I know.” Her eyes darted up. “That’s why I came to you.”

Lucian checked his watch. “Keep going.”

“He’ll send men. He’s desperate. He….”

His phone buzzed.

He silenced it without looking.

“Finish your sentence.”

“You need to get home. Now.”

Lucian frowned. “Why?”

“Because Damien already moved.”

Lucian’s blood ran cold.

“Explain.”

“He knows Elara is six months pregnant.”

Lucian’s eyes widened horror mixing with something more complicated. “How?”

The informant swallowed. “He thinks the child is leverage.”

Lucian cursed under his breath, finally pulling his phone out only to check his calendar for a name

Then he froze.

Forty-six missed calls.

Ten messages.

One voice recording.

He clicked play.

Damien’s voice emerged, low, cold, triumphant:

“Lucian. I’m taking her. And Marek? He won’t be breathing when you get here. No traces. No witnesses.”

Lucian shot to his feet.

The chair fell backward with the force.

“I’m going,” he growled.

The informant grabbed his sleeve. “If you fight him tonight, someone will die.”

Lucian jerked his arm free. “Then pray it isn’t her.”

Back at the penthouse

Marek checked the window again, tension rising.

“Something’s off. Look at the street.”

Elara stood slowly. “What is it?”

He pointed. “Those cars. They’ve been there for about forty minutes.”

Her breath hitched. “Maybe neighbors…”

“No. Those aren’t neighbors.”

He grabbed his phone.

“It’s still not connecting. Why isn’t Lucian picking up?”

Before Elara could answer, three sharp knocks slammed into the door.

She jumped. “Marek…”

“Stay behind me,” he whispered.

Her pulse thundered. “Who is…”

The door burst inward.

Damien stepped in, flanked by three men.

Elara gasped. “Damien…?”

He smiled slowly. “Hello, Elara.”

Marek shoved her behind him. “You’re not coming closer.”

Damien tilted his head. “Marek. Loyal as always. Unfortunately misplaced.”

Elara’s breath trembled. “What do you want?”

“You.” Damien stepped forward, ignoring Marek’s stance. “And the child.”

Her heart slammed against her ribs. “Damien, please don’t try…”

“You still think you can appeal to my heart?” Damien laughed softly. “Oh, Elara… if only you knew how little of that organ I have left.”

“Back off,” Marek snapped, raising his hands defensively. “This isn’t going to end your way.”

“Oh?” Damien’s voice darkened. “I brought three men for a reason.”

Lucian, frantic and furious, driving at full speed

He slammed his phone on speaker.

“Marek, answer. Elara, please answer.”

Silence.

He hit redial again and again until…

A message notification appeared.

Voice Recording Attached

Lucian tapped it.

Damien’s voice.

“By the time you hear this, she’ll be crying your name. And Marek will be bleeding on the floor. You should’ve kept closer watch.”

Lucian’s knuckles blanched on the wheel.

“No,” he whispered. “Please hold on. I’m coming, Elara.”

Back in the penthouse chaos breaking loose

Damien raised a hand. “Take her.”

Elara stumbled back. “No, please—don’t—”

One of Damien’s men lunged.

Marek stepped between them. “Touch her and…”

A loud impact.

Not described.

But Marek fell to one knee.

Elara screamed, “Marek!”

Damien smirked. “You’re outnumbered.”

Marek gritted his teeth. “Not outwilled.”

Another crash.

Elara cried out in pain as one man grabbed her arm.

Her legs shook.

Her hands trembled.

“Let me go!” she gasped. “Please….don’t hurt my baby…”

“You’ll be fine,” Damien murmured. “Probably.”

The third man grabbed her other arm.

Elara burst into tears. “Lucian… Lucian, please…”

And then

A voice cut through the chaos.

“Let her go.”

The room froze.

Lucian stood in the doorway, chest heaving, eyes colder than ice.

Elara sobbed. “Lucian..!”

The man gripping her arm dragged her toward the corridor.

Lucian lunged.

The fight exploded. And with anger Lucian ran into both men leaving them injured and he saves Elara and then goes for a man to man fight with Damien and it lasts for about twenty minutes later.

Bodies lay still.

Furniture overturned.

Blood on clothing, but nothing described in detail.

Lucian leaned against the wall, injured but unbroken.

Damien crouched on the floor several feet away, barely conscious.

Elara sat trembling beside the couch, breathing hard.

Marek lay injured, gripping his knee.

Lucian crawled toward him. “Stay with me, Marek. Don’t close your eyes.”

Marek coughed weakly. “I have… something to tell you.”

“Save your breath,” Lucian insisted. “Help is coming.”

“No.” Marek shook his head. “You need… to hear this. Now.”

Lucian froze.

Elara whispered, “Marek, don’t…please rest for now, we can talk later”

But Marek pushed on.

“Damien… isn’t the father.”

Elara’s breath stopped.

Lucian stared. “What are you talking about?”

Marek swallowed hard. “The Hale family lunch… months ago… Damien tried to stage something. He… he wanted paternity claimed without question.”

Lucian’s pulse thundered. “Explain.”

“Damien… planned to drug you.”

Marek blinked slowly. “He told me to take a specific drink to you… but Elara mistakenly drank part of it first. Damien wanted everything to appear… a certain way.”

Elara’s eyes filled with horror. “Marek… are you saying…?”

Marek nodded painfully. “The child is yours, Lucian. Not his.”

Lucian’s world tilted.

“What?” he whispered.

Marek reached for his hand. “He planned everything. But he never controlled the outcome. The child… is yours.”

Lucian’s chest tightened with shock, fear, protectiveness, and something deeper.

Elara whispered, voice shaking, “Lucian…?”

Before Lucian could speak

A click.

Damien bloody, weak and almost unconscious grabbed a gun from the floor.

He aimed.

Marek cried out as another shot struck his arm.

Lucian yelled, “NO!”

Elara grabbed her phone with trembling hands.

Her voice cracked.

“911! Please—we need help—there’s been a home invasion—people are hurt—please hurry—!” and she mentions the address.

Few minutes later, sirens approached.

Damien slumped, losing consciousness.

The police burst in minutes later and removed the men.

Everything was kept off the news exactly because the Hale name shielded by its influence.

Elara sat beside Lucian on the ambulance steps, shaking.

Lucian whispered, voice raw, “Elara… the baby… is mine?”

She looked at him, eyes glassy with tears.

“Honestly, l’m….. confused”

Something dee

p and unspoken passed between them, sort of relief, shock, fear, and an emotion neither dared name yet.

Lucian took her hand gently.

“I will protect both of you,” he murmured.

Elara leaned into him, trembling. “Don’t leave me again.”

“I won’t,” he whispered.

And for the first time, he meant it.