Eight

Lucien’s POV

I walked inside Volkov's company looking so upset.

My jaw was clenched, my face cold, every step heavy with the weight of everything that had gone wrong in my life. The employees who usually rushed to greet me stepped back, their voices dying in their throats the moment they saw my expression.

I didn’t stop by my office. I didn’t even glance at the elevator.

I went straight to my secretary's office. My secretary’s door stood slightly open, the scent of her perfume drifting into the hallway.

I should have done this a week ago, long before that. I should have confronted her the very moment my marriage began to crumble, when Aria walked out of the house without looking back.

But I hadn’t. Because some part of me didn’t want to face the truth.

I pushed the door open.

She looked up from her desk and smiled.

“Good morning, Mr. Lucien.” she greeted, smiling brightly.

And then I noticed what she was wearing.

The same black, transparent gown. The same dress she had worn that day, the day everything crossed a line that should never have been touched. The fabric clung to her body like a calculated mistake, revealing far more than professionalism ever allowed. My chest tightened, not with desire, but with fury. The memory burned against my skull and I hated myself for it.

Enough. I didn’t come here to relive mistakes, I came here to tear the truth out of her.

“You sent our sex video to my wife?” I asked, glaring at her angrily.

Her smile faltered for half a second before she straightened, lifting her chin as if she had every right to stand there.

“Yes,” she said. “I did. She had to know, she had to know we were having something...special.”

“Shut it.” I slammed my hand on her desk, the sound echoing through the office. “You sent that video on whose order?” I demanded. “You seduced me on whose order?”

Her eyes widened. Because that was the part that never made sense.

She had been my secretary for years. She’d never crossed boundaries, never flirted with me, never dressed provocatively. She had even introduced me to her boyfriend once, smiling proudly as if she had nothing to hide. And then suddenly one night, everything changed.

It wasn’t random. It was as if it was planned.

“No one,” she said quickly.

I moved before I could stop myself.

My hand closed around her neck, slamming her back against the wall. Her breath left her in a sharp gasp, her fingers clawing at my wrist as panic exploded across her face.

“Will you fucking answer me?” I roared.

She struggled, coughing, her face turning red as she fought for air. My grip tightened, I don't care if she might choke to death, because one more force. She's gone.

I loosened my grip a bit.

“Your... your mother,” she stuttered. “She...she told me to....”

I pushed her off, my eyes reddened with anger.

She collapsed against the wall, sliding down slightly as she coughed, sucking in air like she’d just been dragged out of deep water.

My mother?

The words echoed in my head heavily, it's unbelievable for me. Why did she have to do that?!

“You’re fired,” I said coldly.

She raised her head up, shaking it.

“Sir please,” she cried, scrambling to her feet and grabbing my hand. “Please forgive me. This is my only source of income.”

“Get out of my sight.” yanked off her hand.

She was shocked, tears spilling down her cheeks, but I didn’t look back.

My mother. She had set me up. She had destroyed my marriage with her own hands.

No wonder my divorce had become a public spectacle overnight. I had blamed my name, my status, the curse of being Lucien Volkov.

But this? No, no, no, no.

I left the building immediately.

The drive to my mother’s mansion felt endless, my knuckles white around the steering wheel as memories replayed over and over again, every argument, every time Aria had looked at me like she was slipping away, every warning I’d ignored.

It was late when I arrived.

The mansion was quiet, the kind of silence that made every footstep echo. Even the sound of the door closing behind me felt too loud.

“Mother!” I called out.

I got no answers at first, until I heard voices in the living room.

Of course my mom was talking to my sister. Trying to fix another broken marriage. Trying to force Sabrina back into the arms of a man who had treated her the same way I treated Aria.

The hypocrisy made my blood boil.

“Mother!” I called again as I entered the room.

She turned slowly, unimpressed.

“Son,” she said. “Why are you shouting like this?”

I glared at her.

“You ruined my marriage,” I said.

She laughed.

“Come on, Lucien,” she said, waving a dismissive hand. “I thought you were smart enough to know what I’m capable of.”

My hands curled into fists.

“Aria is my life,” I snapped. “And you know that.”

Sabrina stepped forward.

And when she spoke, every word landed like a blade.

“If she was your life,” she said quietly, “you wouldn’t have cheated. If she was your life, no woman would be able to get your dick out of your pants. If she was your life, you wouldn’t have treated her like she didn’t matter.”

My throat tightened.

“If she was your life,” she continued, her eyes burning into mine, “you wouldn’t have let mother disrespect her. Remember when I warned you? Remember what you said? You said she loved you. That she’d tolerate anything.”

My anger drained, replaced by something far worse. I felt guilty, so guilty.

My face softened. My shoulders sagged.

She was right, in every single point she mentioned.

“Well,” my mother said, breaking the moment, “the truth is, you don’t deserve her. And she certainly doesn’t deserve you. I’m glad you both have gone your separate ways.”

“Mother, stop,” I groaned, dragging a hand down my face.

She laughed again, unbothered about how I felt.

“When you’re done sulking about Aria,” she said authoritatively, “get ready to go on a date with the president’s daughter. It’s good for the company. And for you.”

Then my phone buzzed. My heart skipped. I hesitated, then pulled it out from my pocket.

A message from the agent I hired, the one tracking Aria.

'Sir, your wife was sighted in a restaurant with another man.'

I lifted my gaze to my mother without reacting to the message I just read.

“I’m man enough to admit I was wrong,” I said, my voice trembling. “Man enough to admit that I was childish. Immature. And I fucked up in ways I should never have.”

They both stared at me. Yeah, she was the best to me and I was the worst to her. I wronged her in a way I shouldn't. Our memories kicked in, and I badly wanna tell her nobody gets her like she does. How am I supposed to let her go?

“But I will say this,” I continued. “I will get my wife back. And I will flaunt it in your face. You’ve pushed me enough.”

Then I turned. And I walked out.

”Aria, I'm sorry but you can't leave me for another man.”