Chapter 3: The King of Ashes

Lucian’s POV

The penthouse was stripped bare. The art was gone, the furniture covered in white sheets like ghosts waiting for a funeral.

I stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, a glass of cheap whiskey in my hand. I hated this brand. It burned going down, leaving a bitter trail in my throat. But the expensive stuff—the stuff Evelyn used to buy for me because she liked the way it smelled of oak and vanilla—was gone. I had made sure of it.

"She’s safe," Marcus said, stepping into the room. He was soaked to the bone, his boots leaving muddy prints on the white marble floor I used to be so proud of.

"Did she believe it?" I asked, my voice sounding like it had been dragged over gravel.

"She believes you're a bastard, sir. She believes you never loved her. She believes you're waiting for Sarah to come home."

I closed my eyes, the image of Evelyn’s face in the study flashing behind my lids. The way her lower lip had trembled. The way she had looked at the divorce papers like they were a death warrant.

"Good," I whispered. "That’s exactly what she needs to believe."

"Sir, the syndicate is moving faster than we anticipated. They’ve already seized the overseas holdings. They’re looking for a weakness. They’re looking for her."

I turned, my eyes flashing with a sudden, violent heat. "There is no 'her.' I divorced her. I insulted her. I pushed her into the mud. As far as the world is concerned, Evelyn Vance is nothing more than a failed social experiment. A contract that expired."

"And if they find out about the child?" Marcus asked quietly.

The glass in my hand shattered.

The shards sliced into my palm, but I didn't feel the pain. I only felt the cold, numbing dread that had been my constant companion for months. I had seen the test in the trashcan the morning before I gave her the papers. I had seen those two blue lines and felt a joy so profound it nearly broke my resolve.

And then, an hour later, I had received the first photograph in the mail. A picture of Evelyn through a sniper’s scope, walking through the garden.

They were coming for my crown, and they knew that the only way to break Lucian Blackwood was to take the woman who had become his soul.

"They won't find out," I said, my voice shaking. "Because I’m going to become a man not worth watching. A bankrupt, disgraced drunk who lost his wife to his own ego. By the time I’m done, they’ll forget she ever existed."

"And Sarah?"

"Let Sarah play her part," I spat. "She wants the Blackwood name? She can have the ashes of it. She thinks she’s coming back to a king. She’ll find a ghost."

I walked over to the desk and picked up a small, silver frame. I had hidden it under a stack of legal documents. It was a photo of Evelyn in the kitchen, flour on her nose, laughing at something the chef had said. It was the only thing I hadn't let them take.

I touched her face through the glass.

"I'm sorry, Eve," I whispered. "I had to make you hate me so the world would leave you alone. I had to break your heart to save your life."

I dropped the photo into the fireplace. I watched the flames lick the edges of her smile, turning the memory to black ash.

"Burn it all, Marcus," I said, not looking back. "By morning, I want the Blackwood name to be a curse."

I stepped out onto the balcony. The rain hit my face, cold and unforgiving. Far below, the city lights twinkled—a world I no longer belonged to. Somewhere out there, in a small apartment I had secretly paid for through a dozen shell companies, Evelyn was crying.

She was alone. She was scared. And she hated me.

It was the greatest achievement of my life. And it was the hardest thing I had ever done.

"Three years," I muttered to the wind. "I just need three years to kill them all. And then... if there's anything left of me... I’ll find you."

But as I looked at my reflection in the dark glass—the reflection of a man who had traded his love for her safety—I knew the truth.

Even if I survived, the man she loved was already dead. The man standing here was a monster of my own making. And monsters didn't get happy endings.