Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR: ELARA

The photo didn't disappear when I blinked.

I stared at my phone screen until my eyes burned. Me, walking into Lucien's building. The timestamp glowed accusingly. One fifteen AM. The angle was perfect. Professional. Someone hadn't just seen me. They'd been waiting.

I told you to stay away from him.

My hands shook. The phone nearly slipped from my grip.

Who was this? Victoria? Someone she sent? How long had they been watching?

I looked down at myself. Torn shirt. No underwear. Bruises shaped like fingerprints circling my wrists. The bite mark on my shoulder throbbed with every heartbeat.

Evidence.

All of it was evidence of something I couldn't explain. Something Lucien didn't even remember.

My stomach twisted. I barely made it to his bathroom before I threw up.

Before Lucien could notice I was leaving, I ran.

DING DONG!

Marcus opened the door, took one look at me and dragged me inside.

"Jesus Christ, Elara. What the hell happened?"

I couldn't answer. My throat was too tight. My hands wouldn't stop shaking.

He sat me down on his couch. The same couch I'd crashed on after leaving Ethan's place. My place. The place I'd paid for and lost in a single night.

How many times could one person lose everything?

"Elara. Talk to me."

I pulled out my phone. Showed him the text. The photo.

Marcus's expression went from concerned to murderous in seconds.

"Who sent this?"

"I don't know."

"The hell you don't. This is the woman from work, isn't it? The one who assaulted you?"

"Maybe. I think so. I don't… " My voice cracked. "I don't know, Marcus."

He grabbed my wrist. Gently. Then stopped when I flinched.

His eyes dropped to the bruises.

"Elara."

"Don't."

"Did he hurt you?"

"No. Yes. I don't…" I pulled my arm back. Wrapped it around myself. "It wasn't like that."

"Then what was it like?"

I couldn't say it. Couldn't explain how Lucien's hands had felt on my body. How his mouth had tasted. How my pussy got a little wet thinking of all of it, I'd begged him not to stop even when I should have been running.

How he didn't remember any of it.

"I slept with him," I said finally. "I slept with my boss and now someone knows and he doesn't even remember and I don't have anywhere to go."

The words tumbled out in a rush. Chaotic. Desperate.

Marcus was silent for a long moment.

Then he stood up, went to his room, and came back with a blanket and pillow.

"You're staying here. As long as you need."

"Marcus, I can't…"

"You can and you will. End of discussion."

I wanted to argue. Wanted to say I'd figure something else out. But I was so tired. So completely, devastatingly tired.

"Thank you."

He sat down beside me. Didn't touch me. Just stayed close.

"We're going to figure this out, okay? But first, you need to sleep. And then you need to eat. And then we're going to deal with whoever the hell is threatening you."

I nodded. Even though I didn't believe him.

Nothing about my life felt fixable anymore.

I went back to work the next day because I didn't know what else to do.

My bank account had sixty-three dollars in it. Sixty-three dollars after years of saving. Years of sacrifice. Ethan had drained everything else. The joint account we'd opened together. The savings I'd stupidly given him access to "in case of emergencies."

Emergencies like funding his betrayal, apparently.

My parents hadn't returned my calls. Neither had my mother. Nadia had sent one text: Stop being dramatic.

That was it. That was all I got after losing everything.

So I put on my most conservative suit, covered the bruises with makeup, and walked into Blackwood Industries like my world hadn't imploded.

Lucien was already in his office when I arrived.

I could see him through the glass. On the phone. Pacing. His movements were tight. Controlled. Angry.

I'd seen him angry before. This was different.

This looked like barely restrained violence.

I sat at my desk. Opened my laptop. Pretended I was fine.

My hands were shaking again.

"Elara."

I jumped. Looked up.

Lucien stood in his doorway. His expression was unreadable.

"My office. Now."

Not a request.

I followed him inside. He closed the door behind me. The click of the lock felt louder than it should have.

"Sit."

I sat.

He didn't. He stood behind his desk, arms crossed, studying me like I was a problem he was trying to solve.

"Are you alright?"

The question caught me off guard.

"I'm fine."

"You look exhausted."

"I didn't sleep well."

"Because of what happened with Victoria?"

Victoria. Right. The slap.

"Partially," I said.

"She won't be a problem anymore. I've made sure of it."

I didn't ask what that meant. I didn't want to know.

"Thank you."

Silence stretched between us. Heavy. Uncomfortable.

His eyes lingered on my neck. On the collar of my shirt where I knew a bruise was barely hidden.

He frowned.

"Did something else happen?" he asked slowly.

Yes. You happened. You tore through me like a storm and then forgot I existed.

"No," I said.

He didn't look convinced.

"If someone threatens you again, I need to know immediately. Do you understand?"

I nodded.

"Elara."

"I understand."

He studied me for another long moment. Then dismissed me with a wave of his hand.

I stood. Walked to the door.

"Elara."

I stopped. Didn't turn around.

"If you need anything. Anything at all. You can ask."

I almost laughed.

What I needed, he couldn't give me.

"I'm fine," I said again.

And I left before he could call me a liar.

Two weeks passed in a blur of exhaustion and barely concealed panic.

I couldn't afford Marcus's rent. He told me not to worry about it. I worried anyway.

I couldn't afford food. I ate ramen and pretended it was a choice.

I couldn't afford to leave my job. So I stayed and pretended I wasn't falling apart.

At night, I took freelance work. Data entry. Transcription. Anything that paid quickly and didn't ask questions.

It violated my contract. I knew that. But sixty-three dollars didn't pay for survival.

I slept four hours a night if I was lucky.

Lucien noticed.

Of course he noticed.

He watched me like I was something fragile that might shatter if he looked away. It made my skin crawl. Made me want to scream at him that he didn't get to care now. Not after forgetting. Not after erasing me so completely.

But I didn't scream.

I smiled. Nodded. Did my job.

And counted down the hours until I could collapse.

It was a Tuesday when everything broke.

I was at my desk, staring at a spreadsheet that refused to make sense. The numbers blurred together. My head pounded. My eyes burned.

I'd been awake for thirty-one hours straight.

"Elara."

Lucien's voice cut through the fog.

I looked up. He stood in front of my desk, arms crossed, expression dark.

"My office. Now."

Not again.

I followed him inside. This time, he didn't bother with pretense.

He threw a folder onto his desk.

"Care to explain this?"

I looked at the papers. Invoices. Timestamps. Evidence of every freelance job I'd taken in the last two weeks.

My stomach dropped.

"How did you…"

"You're violating your contract," he said. His voice was cold. Clipped. "Exclusivity clause. You know this."

"I can explain…"

"You're working for competitors. Do you have any idea what that looks like?"

"They're not competitors. They're just…"

"Just what? Side jobs? You think I'm an idiot?"

"No, I…"

"You're exhausted. You're making mistakes. And now I find out you've been taking outside work without permission."

Permission.

The word made something inside me snap.

"I needed the money," I said.

"Then you should have asked."

"Asked?" I laughed. It came out bitter. Broken. "Asked you for what? A raise? A loan? Charity?"

"If you were struggling financially, I would have…"

"You would have what, Lucien? Solved it? Fixed it? Taken care of it like you take care of everything else?"

His jaw tightened.

"That's not what I meant."

"I don't need you to save me."

"Clearly you do, since you're willing to violate your contract instead of asking for help."

The words hit like a slap.

I stood up. Slowly. Carefully.

"You're right," I said quietly. "I violated my contract. So I'll make this easy for you."

I walked to the door.

"Elara…"

"Consider this my resignation. Effective immediately."

I didn't wait for his response.

I went to my desk. Packed my things. Personal items. Photos. The coffee mug Marcus gave me for my last birthday.

People stared. I didn't care.

Lucien appeared in his doorway.

"Elara, stop."

I kept packing.

"Elara."

"There's nothing to discuss."

"The hell there isn't. Get back in my office."

I looked at him then. Really looked at him.

He was angry. Frustrated. Confused.

He didn't understand why I was doing this.

Of course he didn't. He didn't remember. He didn't know that every time I looked at him, I saw his hands on my body. His mouth on mine. The way he'd called me perfect while I fell apart beneath him.

He didn't know that staying here was killing me.

"Goodbye, Lucien."

I walked out of Blackwood Industries with my box of belongings and sixty-three dollars to my name.

I didn't look back.

Marcus was furious when I called him.

"You quit? Are you insane?"

"Probably."

"Elara, you can't afford to quit. You have nothing. No savings. No apartment. No…"

"I know."

"Then why…"

"Because I couldn't stay there anymore, Marcus. I couldn't look at him every day and pretend I was fine."

"Then what are you going to do?"

I didn't have an answer.

My phone buzzed. I looked at it away from the call. Another freelance offer. Twenty dollars for two hours of work.

It wasn't enough. It would never be enough.

But it was something.

"I'll figure it out," I said.

Marcus didn't sound convinced.

Neither was I.

“Oh honey, come to the club, at least let me get you a drink or two or many.”

It was almost midnight when I left Marcus's club.

He'd offered to come with me from the club. I told him I'd be fine. It was only three blocks. I'd walked it a hundred times.

I should have let him come.

The streets were quieter than usual. Darker. The kind of dark that made instincts scream warnings I'd learned to ignore in a city like this.

I walked quickly. Head down. Keys between my fingers like Marcus taught me.

The footsteps started half a block from the club.

Fast. Too fast.

I turned.

And Victoria smiled.