17: The Trial

MAEVE

The Uber rolled to a stop in front of the company, and I was already reaching for the door when a familiar black car pulled in right beside us.

Oh, Damn it!

I stepped out slowly, my stomach tightening when I saw Lucien’s car come to a smooth halt. 

The timing was terrible. Not that there was ever a good time anymore.

We lived in the same fucking house. We worked in the same building. Avoiding him had been close to impossible these past few days, no matter how hard I tried.

Especially since I was his personal assistant.

I stayed where I was, pretending to adjust my bag, pretending I wasn’t suddenly hyperaware of everything. My heart started beating faster, his words from that night slipping back into my head.

Fix it… or I’ll kill you. And your mother.

The driver’s door opened.

Lucien stepped out.

He looked exactly the same as always, tailored suit, sharp posture, controlled expression, but there was something heavier about him now. Something darker. 

And I could only guess why.

I didn’t want to walk in with him. I didn’t want to be anywhere near him. So I stalled, hoping he’d go ahead.

That was when it happened.

Someone rushed out from the side of the building.

At first, my brain couldn’t process it. All I saw was movement, a man in a black hood, moving. Then something flew through the air.

Splat.

Eggs.

They hit Lucien square in the chest, bursting against his suit, dripping down the expensive fabric. Another followed. And another.

The man was yelling.

“You’re an abomination!” he screamed. “You’re not fit to be a king! You’re a monster!”

Gasps rippled through the entrance. People stopped. Phones came out. Security started moving.

I stood frozen.

Everything felt unreal, like I was watching something straight out of a movie instead of standing right there.

Before the man could run, two of Lucien’s bodyguards grabbed him, hauling him back roughly. He fought them, twisting and shouting.

“Let me go!” he barked. “What kind of alpha hides behind big men, huh? Lucien Thorne is a pussy! Needs guards to save him!”

I swallowed hard.

The man was… stupid. That was the only word for it. Foolish and loud and completely unaware of how close he was to something terrible.

Lucien didn’t move.

He stood there calmly, egg whites and yolks sliding down his suit, his face unreadable.

Then he spoke.

“Let him go.”

The bodyguards hesitated.

“Sir—”

“I said let him go.”

They released the man.

For a split second, I saw the fear flash across the man’s face before he tried to mask it with bravado. He puffed up, squared his shoulders.

Lucien stepped closer.

He was taller. Bigger. His presence swallowed the space between them without effort. Even from where I stood, I could feel the pressure, the quiet threat.

Lucien looked down at him and spoke softly.

“If you truly believed I was what you claim,” he said calmly, “you wouldn’t have made the mistake of coming here.”

The man’s face drained of color.

“And you definitely shouldn’t be looking me in the eye,” Lucien growled.

Something shifted.

The man’s confidence crumbled in real time. His body stiffened, then sagged. 

He took a step back, then another, nodding frantically like he suddenly remembered there was somewhere else he needed to be.

“I—I didn’t mean—” he stammered, before turning and scurrying away, disappearing into the crowd like a rat fleeing light.

Low murmurs followed. Whispers—uneasy glances. But me, I stood there, stunned. 

What Lucien did wasn’t loud or violent.

But it was terrifying.

Lucien turned, and his eyes locked with mine.

I froze.

My breath caught, my body refusing to move as his gaze pinned me in place. For a second, it felt like the rest of the world faded out.

“Maeve.”

My shoulders tensed.

“Get me a new suit,” he said coolly. “Identical to this one.”

Then he turned and walked into the building.

People scattered out of his way like insects when you switch on the light.

Only when he was gone did I realize I had been holding my breath.

I sucked in air shakily, my hands trembling as I reached for my phone. I called a taxi, my voice unsteady as I texted his tailor to let him know I was coming. 

****

When I got back to the company, the building was still buzzing with what had happened earlier.

“…did you see the video?”

“Seeing it in person was actually better.”

“I swear, he didn’t even flinch.”

“They say the council’s furious.”

“My cousin just sent me the article this morning.”

I kept my head down and walked past clusters of people pretending to be busy. Phones disappeared the second they noticed me. Conversations dropped into murmurs. 

Everyone knew who I was now—Lucien Thorne’s sister. Step Sister, actually, but it was enough to call them to order.

I turned a corner and came face-to-face with Theo’s table.

Theo’s empty table. 

No coffee cup. No laptop. No chaotic pile of sticky notes he never cleaned up. It was too neat. 

And that was strange because Theo was never neat.

I glanced around and caught the eye of a woman from finance as she passed by. 

“Hey,” I said, keeping my voice light. “Have you seen Theo today?”

She paused, frowning. “Theo?”

“Yes. He sits here.”

“Oh.” She hesitated. “He hasn’t been in for days.”

“Days?” I frowned.

“Since the news started spreading, I think,” she answered. “HR said he took… time off.”

Time off.

I didn’t like the way that sounded.

Before I could ask anything else, a familiar voice cut cleanly through the room.

“Maeve.”

Every conversation died instantly, and people scattered like someone had pulled a fire alarm.

I turned.

Lucien stood at the end of the floor, still in the same suit. Egg stains dried and crusted against the dark fabric. His expression was sharp and irritated.

“I don’t pay you to loiter,” he said coldly. “Come to my office.”

My stomach dropped.

“Yes,” I said quietly.

I followed him down the hall, my grip tightening on the suit bag. No one looked at us. Doors closed. Screens were suddenly exciting.

Lucien didn’t slow down.

He walked into his office, and I followed, closing the door behind me with a soft click.

The silence was thick.

He turned around and reached for the suit bag without a word, pulling it from my hands. Then, without hesitation, he started undressing.

Just like that.

He shrugged out of his jacket and dropped it onto a chair. Unbuttoned his shirt. The stained fabric slid off his shoulders and hit the floor.

He was shirtless. He looked glorious. 

I sucked in a breath and immediately looked away, heat rushing to my face.

“Don’t do that,” he said flatly. “Don’t pretend you haven’t seen this before. Don't act like a fucking prude.”

I continued staring at the wall, my ears burning at the sound of fabric shuffling. Then a belt buckle. 

Then the TV caught my eye. It was muted, but what was on the TV caught my attention. 

A news presenter with Lucien’s picture in the corner, a banner running beneath her with the inscriptions: BREAKING: COUNCIL OF ELDERS ANNOUNCE DECISION ON LUCIEN THORNE.

“…the council has reached a unanimous decision,” the presenter was saying. “In light of recent revelations, Lucien Thorne’s identity will be tested publicly.”

My breath hitched.

“The test will take place under direct sunlight,” she continued. “At peak intensity.”

I couldn't afford to look at Lucien. I knew he was listening. I knew he blamed me for the expose, and if the council had decided to test him like that, he probably hated me more right now. He probably wanted to hurt me more right now. 

The realization was enough to make my thoughts spiral and to make my heart start pounding.

I dared a look at him.

He was facing the screen now, fully dressed in the fresh suit, movements rigid. His jaw was locked so tight I thought it might crack. Eyes blaring red and gold. My heart pounded more. 

He had never looked more terrifying.