Chapter 5

I woke to white walls and the sharp smell of antiseptic. My body ached everywhere, a dull throb that pulsed with each breath. But it was the pain in my abdomen that made my hand move instinctively to my stomach.

The memory came flooding back. The elevator. The fall. Lucas's back as he climbed out, carrying Victoria to safety while I lay there in the dark.

I blinked slowly, trying to orient myself. The bed beside me was empty. No, Lucas.

My throat was dry. I reached for the water pitcher on the bedside table, my arm shaky. As I stretched, I heard voices drifting from somewhere nearby. The door to my room was slightly ajar.

Victoria was crying. "I came back because your grandfather passed away. I thought maybe now we could finally be together."

I froze, my hand still on the pitcher.

"Now isn't the time. The company is in the middle of a crisis, I need to put everything in place before we can go public." Lucas's voice was low, strained.

"Why not? He's gone, Lucas. He was the only one who really stood in our way. Your whole family knew about us except him, and he was the only one who disapproved." Her voice broke. "Are you telling me you've fallen in love with her?"

Silence. Heavy, suffocating silence.

“Hell no, why would you think that? I love you, and you alone.”

“Are you sure?” Asked, her voice dropping low.

“Yes, my love. It has always been you.”

I felt like I'd fallen into an icy abyss. Everything clicked into place with brutal clarity. Their relationship had been exposed. His grandfather, the man who raised me, who arranged our marriage, he'd been the only one standing in their way. Not because Lucas didn't love her. Because he did.

And now the grandfather was gone.

I set the pitcher down carefully and lie back against the pillows. My hands were trembling.

I returned to staring at the ceiling in a daze, my mind replaying Lucas's silence over and over. He hadn't denied it. He hadn't said he loved me.

He'd said nothing at all.

Footsteps approached. The door opened wider. I could smell Victoria's perfume before I even saw him, sweet and floral, clinging to Lucas's clothes.

"You're awake." His voice was neutral, careful.

I didn't look at him. "Where were you?"

"Checking on Victoria. Making sure she was okay." He walked closer to the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine." The word came out flat, empty.

He pulled up a chair and sat down. "The doctors said you need rest. You have some bruising, but nothing serious."

I finally turned my head to look at him. He looked tired, his tie loosened, but there was no real concern in his eyes. Just an obligation.

"Victoria is doing better," he continued. "She was pretty shaken up. The claustrophobia made everything worse for her."

"Of course it did." My voice was cold.

His brow furrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You left me there." The words came out quietly, but they felt like shards of glass. "In the elevator. You went to her first."

"She has a medical condition. I had to get her out before she had a full panic attack." His tone was defensive now, like I was being unreasonable. "I told you to wait. The rescue team was already there."

"You didn't even check if I was hurt."

"I could see you were conscious." He leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms. "Victoria couldn't breathe. What did you want me to do?"

"Look at me." My voice rose. "Just once, look at me the way you look at her."

He stood up abruptly. "You're being ridiculous. Victoria has had claustrophobia since childhood. She needed immediate help. You should understand that."

"I should understand," I repeated the words slowly, feeling something break inside me. "I should understand that your stepsister comes before your wife. I should understand that you carry her like she's precious while I wait in the dark. I should understand everything."

"She's family. I was helping her. That's what people do." His jaw tightened. "I don't know what you think you saw, but you're reading too much into this."

"Am I?" I looked at him directly. "Or am I finally seeing things clearly for the first time?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I heard you." The words came out before I could stop them. "I heard you and Victoria talking."

His expression shifted, something like guilt flickering across his face before the mask came back down. "You don't understand the situation."

"Then explain it to me." My voice was shaking now. "Explain why she thinks you two can finally be together now that your grandfather is gone. Explain why she asked if you love me and you said nothing."

"That conversation was private."

"I'm your wife!"

"And she's someone I care about who's going through a difficult time." He said it like it was perfectly reasonable. "My grandfather's death has been hard on everyone. Victoria is emotional. I was trying to comfort her."

"By not denying that you want to be with her?"

"I didn't confirm anything either." His voice was getting harder, more frustrated. "You're twisting this into something it's not. Victoria and I have history, yes. But that's in the past. I married you. I'm here, aren't I?"

"Are you?" I felt tears burning behind my eyes but refused to let them fall. "Because it feels like you're always somewhere else. With her."

"This is exactly why I didn't want to have this conversation now. You're being emotional and unreasonable." He moved toward the door. "When you're ready to be rational, we can talk."

"Don't you dare walk away from me."

He stopped, his hand on the door handle. "What do you want me to say? That I don't care about Victoria? I can't do that. She's been part of my life since we were teenagers."

"I want you to say you love me." My voice broke. "I want you to say you chose me. That I'm not just the obligation your grandfather left you with."

"Love isn't something I think about." He turned back to face me. "We have a partnership. We have stability and shared goals. That's more important than feelings that fade."

"Feelings that fade." I laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Is that what you tell yourself about her too?"

The door suddenly pushed open. A nurse walked in with a clipboard, her expression professional but concerned.

"Who is the patient's husband?" She looked between us.

"I am," Lucas said.

The nurse's eyes moved to me, then back to him. "The patient's condition is very serious. She's severely malnourished and anemic. Her body is under significant stress. Any more emotional or physical strain could cause serious complications that might—"

"I'm fine," I cut her off sharply, my eyes locked on Lucas. "Thank you, but I'm fine.”