CHAPTER TWO TITLE: The Notebook

Emma's POV

Lucas shot me a piercing look, and for the briefest moment, I caught something in his expression guilt, perhaps, or maybe irritation at being interrupted. 

He cleared his throat and said calmly, "Emma, this isn't the best time for this." 

I almost laughed, and the sound would’ve been bitter, broken. Instead, I swallowed it. “When is the time, Lucas? After you're done showing Sophia around our home?"

Sophia’s perfectly arched brows lifted slightly. “I didn’t mean to intrude,” she said softly, placing a gentle hand on Lucas’s forearm. The gesture was small, but it was so natural that it made my chest tighten.

“Lucas insisted I come see the estate. It’s been so long.” Her voice was soft, almost apologetic, but the words hit me like a slap. 

He had insisted. The same man who had left our anniversary dinner without a second thought had insisted on bringing his ex-lover home. 

I kept my gaze locked on him. “I saw you give her the card.”

His jaw tightened. “She’s family, Emma. You know how things work in this house.”

Family. The same word he’d used to deny me that card for three years. I had stood drenched in a thunderstorm once, locked out after running errands for his grandmother, and he’d told me the black card was only for real Ashfords. I had believed him. I had smiled and apologized for asking.

Now here she was, holding it like a trophy.

My hands trembled at my sides. I curled them into fists. “I’m your wife, Lucas. Or have you forgotten that too?”

Sophia made a small, sympathetic sound. “Emma, I’m sure we can all be adults about this. I’m only here to catch up. Lucas has told me how understanding you’ve been.”

Understanding. The polite word for invisible. For the woman who cooked meals that went cold untouched, who raised their daughter while pretending the coldness in her marriage was normal.

I snubbed her.

Lucas glanced at his watch again and said, “We’ll talk later. Sophia has jet lag. Let me show her to the guest wing.”

I stepped forward, voice barely above a whisper. “No. We have to talk now.”

For the first time in months, Lucas actually looked at me. His dark eyes narrowed, tracing the exhaustion I knew was written across my face. 

“Fine,” he said tightly. “Sophia, give us a moment.”

She hesitated, then nodded gracefully. “Of course. I’ll wait inside.” 

I waited until she had gone inside before turning back to Lucas.

“You left our anniversary for her,” I said. The words came out steadier than I felt. “You gave her the one thing I begged you for. And now you want me to smile and pretend everything’s fine?”

Lucas ran a hand through his hair, the gesture frustrated. “Sophia just got back. She doesn’t have anyone here. You know our history. This isn’t about you.”

“Oh… It’s never about me.” 

The truth of it hit me harder than I expected. 

“Three years, Lucas. I gave up everything. My career. My dreams. I learned every detail of your life so I could be what you needed. And still…” I stopped. Saying it out loud made it too real.

His expression softened, just a fraction. “Emma, you knew what this marriage was. I never lied to you.”

Yes. He hadn’t. He’d been brutally honest from the beginning: obligation. Grandfather’s wish. Nothing more. I had been the fool who thought love could grow in barren soil.

“I know,” I whispered. “But I hoped.. anyway, It's fine.”

A heavy silence fell between us. In the distance, I heard Lily’s laughter drifting from the playroom window. My heart twisted. She had started asking about “Aunt Sophia” yesterday after one phone call. Expensive gifts had a way of winning little girls over.

Lucas exhaled. “I’ll make it up to you. Dinner this weekend. Just us.”

I wanted to believe him. God, I wanted to. 

But the cold steak and unlit candles were still fresh in my mind. The untouched cake with its mocking “Happy Third Anniversary.”

“I need some air,” I said instead, turning away before he could see the tears moistening in my eyes.

A few days slipped by, yet the mansion no longer felt like my home. Sophia was everywhere. She joined us for breakfast, laughed with Lucas in the garden, spent afternoons chatting with his grandmother and evenings having tea with his mother. At dinner, she always seemed to end up beside Lucas, as though she'd never left. No one questioned it. The Ashford family welcomed her back as if she had always belonged there, while I slowly faded into the background.

One evening, Claire's cheerful voice cut through the dining room. "The house finally feels complete again."

A few awkward smiles appeared around the table, but she only laughed. "I always knew Sophia would come back. Honestly, she looks more like Mrs. Ashford than anyone else." 

Soft laughter followed. I stared down at my plate, waiting for someone… anyone at all to tell her she'd gone too far. No one did. Not even Lucas cautioned her younger sister. Not his parents. Not even Sophia, who simply smiled into her wine glass. 

The food suddenly tasted sour in my mouth.

After dinner, I quietly excused myself and headed upstairs to check on Grandma Margaret. She was the only person in this house who still cared enough to ask whether I'd eaten or slept well. Thinking of her gentle kindness eased the ache in my chest, if only a little.

As I walked down the hallway, I passed Lucas' study and instinctively slowed. The door was slightly open.

Lucas was fiercely protective of that room. He never left it unlocked, and he hated anyone touching his things. 

So, who could’ve left it open?

Under normal circumstances, I would’ve walked past without a second glance. But after days of feeling like a stranger in my own marriage, something made me stop. Maybe the nagging feeling that everyone around me knew something I didn't. 

Before I could talk myself out of it, I took a quiet breath, pushed the door open, and stepped inside.

The familiar scent of cedarwood and expensive leather filled the room. Everything was exactly as I remembered from the last time I'd been inside files neatly stacked, pens carefully arranged, and every surface spotless. It was the kind of order Lucas insisted on, where everything had its place.

My gaze drifted across the office until it settled on his desk. One of the drawers wasn't fully closed. It was slightly open, as though someone had been interrupted before they could push it shut. I knew I should turn around and leave. This was his private space. Yet, instead of walking away, I found myself moving closer.

"Just close the drawer and leave," I whispered under my breath. But the moment I reached it, my hand wrapped around the handle almost on its own. I pulled the drawer open and swallowed hard.

Inside lay a worn leather notebook. I recognized it immediately. Lucas had carried that notebook everywhere during the first year of our marriage. Whether he was heading to work or leaving for a meeting, it was always tucked under his arm. 

The one time I’d reached for it out of curiosity, he had gently but quickly taken it from my hands before I could open it. 

"It's nothing important," he had said. 

I had believed him then. Now, as the notebook rested silently before me, I wasn't so sure anymore.