Chapter nine: A break outside

Serena's POV 

Lucas didn’t say a word on the drive. He kept one hand on the wheel, the other tapping restlessly against his thigh like he was arguing with himself in his head.

I stared out the window. Different country or not, grief still followed like a shadow that refused to mind its business.

When we pulled into an underground garage, he exhaled like he’d been holding the breath since we left the apartment.

“We’re taking the back elevator,” he said. “Less people.”

He didn’t give me time to argue. He just took my hand and guided me toward a quiet hallway tucked behind security doors and tinted glass. Everything smelled like money and disinfectant.

Inside the private elevator, the air felt tighter than the space.

“Remember,” he said, voice low, “you stay close.”

I rolled my eyes, but my pulse was climbing fast. “Relax. I’m not planning to dive out the window.”

“You say that now,” he muttered.

The elevator dinged, doors sliding open into a minimalist, marble-walled private lobby. His office waited at the far end, sleek glass and cold lines, like it was hiding all the warmth he refused to show anyone else.

But what caught his attention immediately was the empty secretary desk.

He stopped. “Where the hell is she?” I blinked. “Is that… a problem?”

“She’s supposed to prep the files for the board.” His jaw tightened. “The meeting starts in five minutes.”

“I can do it,” I said.

His head snapped toward me so fast I almost stepped back. “No. Serena, no.”

“I’m not made of glass.” I said, trying to make him see my point.

“You’re also not my assistant.” he snapped back, moving closer.

“I’m also not useless,” I shot back.

He blinked. Hard. Like that hit somewhere he didn’t expect.

“Lucas,” I said quietly, “please. Let me do something.”

He scrubbed a hand over his face, torn between protecting me and not having any better options. “This isn’t… this isn’t what you’re here for.”

“I’m not here for decoration either,” I said. “Give me the files.”

He cursed under his breath, soft and frustrated, then finally shoved a thick folder into my hands.

“Don’t talk to anyone,” he said. “And stay on my left.”

I smirked. “Wow. The trust is overwhelming.”

“Serena.”

“Fine. Left side. Silent. Got it.”

He sighed, defeated. “Let’s go before I regret this.”

We walked down the hall together, and the closer we got to the conference room, the louder the voices inside became. Low. Commanding. Familiar.

Too familiar, Lucas pushed the doors open.

Every head turned and I felt my breath punched out of me.

Numbers of Ethan's business partners, Mia's favorite investor.

My feet stopped moving.

For a second, the room tilted. The air thinned. My fingers dug into the folder like it was the only thing keeping me upright.

One of the men narrowed his eyes. Recognition glinted sharply.

Lucas sensed it before anyone spoke.

He turned back to me, and with the smallest, quickest smile, he anchored me. Not soft. Not sweet. Just… solid. A quiet message:

You’re here. With me. You’re safe, and somehow, stupidly, it worked.

My lungs remembered how to function.

Lucas leaned in just enough that only I could hear him.

“Left side,” he whispered. “You’re good.”

I swallowed the tremor in my throat and stepped forward again, forcing my legs to cooperate.

“Gentlemen,” Lucas said, strolling to the head of the table with that terrifying calm he wore like a tailored suit. “Let’s begin.”

Then he paused and glanced at me.

“Serena. Files.”

I stepped into the center of the room, all those eyes drilling into me, but Lucas’s expression didn’t waver. He waited like he trusted me completely.

I handed him the documents with steady fingers I didn’t even know I had.

“Thank you,” he said.

A simple word. But heavy. Intentional.

And every single man in that room looked between us like they were suddenly trying to recalculate the entire universe.

"Mm-mm," One of the men gruffed.

"You seem like you've something to say, Mr Samuel," Lucas said, opening the files before him.

"Yes, I was wondering why we have—" he said with a pause, staring at some members of the room, and back to me, awaiting their support.

"Why we have what?" Lucas asked, pulling a chair closer for me to sit.

"Her, your brothers wife, isn't she the woman that was drunk driving and was said to have killed her son," He said.

I felt my breath hitch, my body still at his words.

Lucas reached under the table, holding my hands as he leaned back on his chair.

"And you believe the words that are coming from him?" Lucas retorted, a small smirk on his face.

"You mean your brother," 

"Step brother, Samuel, call him my brother again, and you'll know there are limits to the things I allow," He said.

"I can leave..." I offered, but Lucas held me back.

"Ethan is your brother, no matter what you call it—" The Samuel said again, obviously pushing something.

"How many percent shares does he have?" Lucas asked, turning to one of the men in the room.

"5 percent," One of them replied.

"What? What are you trying to do—"

"Before we start the meeting, I'd like to address something, this company is mine, I bring whoever I want here, and so, at this moment, Mr Samuel, all your shares will be sold, and your money returned, you're no longer a member of this company," 

Mr. Samuel shot to his feet. “What? Lucas, you can’t do that—”

“I just did,” Lucas said, tone flat enough to cut granite. “Security will escort you out. Your check will be wired before lunch.”

“You’re out of your mind.” Samuel’s voice cracked, half anger, half disbelief. “All because of her?”

Lucas didn’t flinch. “No. Because I’m tired of babysitting men who think they get a say over my personal life.”

I stared down at the table, pulse roaring in my ears. This wasn’t what I wanted. I didn’t want power. Or drama. Or men losing their jobs because I walked into a room