Luca's Secret

My phone was still in the room, but I couldn't go back upstairs to get it. At the same time, I knew I couldn't simply continue leaving with Daniel. But as long as we weren't legally divorced, I felt I had no other choice.

My entire body ached from the fall, and blood was still trickling down from the wound on my head. Still dressed in nothing but my night lingerie, I slowly forced myself to my feet and left the building. I had no money, no phone, and absolutely nothing with me. Somehow, I managed to hail a taxi and asked the driver to take me to Lucas's house.

"We're here, ma'am."

"Please, can you wait for me? I need to go upstairs and get some money. It'll only take a few minutes," I pleaded with the taxi driver.

"It's okay, ma'am. I think you need the money more than I do," he replied kindly.

The moment I got down from. The taxi, the man drove speedily.

Tears filled my eyes once again. The cold weather seemed to seep into my bones, while icy chills ran down my spine. I was beginning to feel like nothing more than an object of pity.

Lucas's house was enormous. Just like Daniel, he didn't have any guards stationed at the entrance, even though his home was located in a rather isolated area. Somehow, I managed to find my way inside and stood trembling in front of his door. My teeth chattered as I rang the bell.

No one answered.

I rang it again.

Finally, the door swung open.

"What the hell?!" Lucas exclaimed, his voice sharp and alarmed.

I shivered from both pain and cold. "Help me, Lucas. Please," I begged.

He immediately pulled me inside, called his personal doctor, and had me treated.

I had no idea when I fell asleep.

For the first time since I got married, I slept peacefully and comfortably. Ironically, it wasn't even in my own marital home.

When I woke the next morning, the pain had significantly reduced. Lucas had tucked me beneath a thick duvet and placed a damp towel on my forehead to keep me cool.

I turned to the other side and found him sitting nearby, engrossed in a book, one leg casually crossed over the other.

"Good afternoon, sunshine," Lucas greeted.

Sunshine? I thought, staring at him in confusion.

"I hope you had a wonderful night's rest?" he asked.

I remained speechless.

"Wait... afternoon?" I asked, my eyes widening.

"You slept for a very long time. I didn't want to wake you because I figured you needed the rest." He lowered his book and studied me. "How are you feeling now?"

"Better than before," I replied, slowly sitting upright. "The pain is almost completely gone."

"Well, I made sure the doctor gave you something to help with the pain." He stood and stretched out his hand toward me. "Come downstairs with me. You must be starving. I made something you might like."

I followed him downstairs, only then realizing that I was wearing one of his shirts. It was oversized on me, but it was comfortable enough.

He led me to the dining table, pulled out a chair for me, and served me himself.

He was being incredibly kind, and I was beginning to wonder if all of this was some sort of dream. He hadn't asked what happened the night before or why I had shown up at his house looking the way I did. Instead, he simply acted as though everything was perfectly normal.

"Spaghetti," he announced as he sat across from me. "This is your favorite, isn't it?"

I nodded quietly, watching as he took the first bite.

"Come on, try it. You'll love it. I'm a good cook—not to brag." He chuckled. "And I'm definitely going to give myself credit for this one."

A small smile escaped me.

"There she is." His expression softened. "I've missed that smile of yours."

Then he noticed that I hadn't touched my food.

"Why aren't you eating?"

"Why aren't you asking me any questions?" I countered.

His smile faded slightly.

"You're acting like nothing happened, Lucas, but I almost died last night. Again." Tears began streaming down my face. "Your brother is hell-bent on killing me."

Lucas let out a heavy sigh and slowly dropped his fork onto his plate. The soft clatter of metal against porcelain seemed unusually loud in the tense silence that followed.

He looked at me sternly—a look filled with disappointment, pain, and something else I couldn't quite place. Somehow, without saying a word, his eyes made me feel guilty.

"Maybe if you had told me Daniel was a maniac, I wouldn't have married him."

I glanced at Lucas, then down at my untouched food, before looking back at him. His eyes hadn't left me.

"What?" I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.

I already knew what was going through his mind. It was almost as if I could read his thoughts from the way he looked at me.

"You can't blame me, Lucas" I said, my voice trembling. "I was blinded by love. I thought—"

"Daniel never loved you."

His words cut through mine.

I froze.

"You know that, Camilla," he continued, his voice low and painfully calm. "You knew it, yet you still chose to stay. You chose to marry him, thinking he would change. Daniel is not good enough for you."

"Are you blaming me?" My voice cracked as tears immediately filled my eyes. "After everything I've been through, you're blaming me?"

"I don't want to," he said, his expression softening for a moment. "God knows I don't."

He leaned back in his chair and dragged a hand across his face, as though he was struggling to keep his emotions under control.

"But, Camilla, there were people who loved you. People who were ready to make you happy. People who would have given you the world without asking for anything in return. And you pushed them all away because—"

"People like Thomas?" I interrupted bitterly.

"No."

Lucas's response came quietly.

He hesitated.

Then he sat upright again, his eyes fixed on mine. There was something different in his gaze now. Something vulnerable. Something I'd never seen before.

"People, like me, Camilla."

My ears began to ring.

My heart pounded violently against my chest, and I felt my breath catch in my throat. My eyes widened as I stared at him, completely helpless, unable to process what I'd just heard.

"What did you say, Lucas?" I whispered.

He held my gaze.

"I know you only ever saw me as a friend," he said, his voice softer now, almost breaking beneath the weight of the confession. "And maybe that's all I was supposed to be to you."

He swallowed hard.

"But I loved you, Camilla."

His eyes glistened with emotion.

"I loved you long before you even realised that you were in love with my brother. I just thought you'd one day see me the way you see him."

He paused, his voice dropping to a whisper.

"And the funny truth is..."

He looked away for a brief moment before meeting my eyes again.

"I'm still in love with you. And I can't help it."