Semua Bab His Playmate : Bab 71 - Bab 80

Lucian’s POV The sound of the pen scratching against paper was the only thing keeping me grounded. My office was quiet — too quiet. The kind of silence that made every second stretch thin, the kind of silence that felt like it was waiting for something to break. Stacks of documents sat neatly in front of me. Contracts, acquisition plans, surveillance reports. Order. Precision. Things I could control. Unlike her. Julia Bailey. I let out a long breath and set the pen down. My reflection stared back at me from the glass table, eyes dark with exhaustion. No matter how much work I buried myself in, my mind still went back to that night. The rain. Her unconscious body trembling on the couch. The fever that had her whispering nonsense in her sleep. And me — sitting beside her when I should’ve been anywhere else. Watching her chest rise and fall, making sure she kept breathing, cursing myself for caring at all. That girl had no idea what she did to me. She wasn’t supposed to matter.

Lucian's POV She stood there in front of me, trembling in a way that has nothing to do with winter or fever. The cut along her palm was gone, bandaged, but there was a faint stain left on the cuff of her sleeve. The way her chest rose and fell told me more than her words. She had a threshold and she had crossed it; she had been pushed to a limit most people never reached. She should have broken on the road. She had not. I asked her simply. The room was quiet and I could hear the faint echo of my own voice. “Who is your father, Jules?” She blinked. Surprise, quick and pure, flashed across her face. As if the question itself had shocked her more than the accused name might have. “My father?” she said slowly. “My father is David Bailey.” David Bailey. A name like any other, ordinary and brittle. It sat in the air between us and the way she said it — with a stubborn certainty, with the edge of someone used to being asked the same thing and having to answer it without drama — made

Julia's POV I didn’t understand what Lucian meant by “come to my room later.” The way he said it, so calm yet so unreadable, made my stomach twist. The entire conversation in his office had left me shaken — from the gunshots to his question about my father. “Who is your father?” kept replaying in my head like a broken record. Now, walking through the long hall that led to the maids’ quarters, every sound echoed louder than usual. The maids’ laughter, the faint hum of the wind outside, even the distant sound of boots on the marble floor — they all pressed on me, reminding me of the tension that never left this mansion. When I reached the small corridor that led to the quarters, I hesitated. Yasmin’s voice was audible from inside, sharp and commanding as always. She was laughing with some women — her usual circle of loyal minions. I took a deep breath and pushed the door open without knocking. The laughter stopped. All eyes turned to me. Yasmin was seated at the center of

Andrew’s knock came just when I thought I could finally rest. “The Don wants to see you,” his deep voice echoed through the wooden door. My heart skipped a beat. For a moment, I wondered if I’d done something wrong again. Maybe Yasmin had reported me. Maybe Lucian found out about something I didn’t even know I did. My stomach tightened as I glanced toward the small mirror hanging beside the bed. My reflection looked tired — dark circles, slightly pale lips, and a hint of fear that refused to leave my eyes no matter how hard I tried to suppress it. Lucian always had a way of shaking me without even being in the same room. I inhaled, straightened my uniform, and followed Andrew. He didn’t speak; he never did unless necessary. The corridor was silent except for our footsteps echoing faintly against the marble floor. The lights were dim, casting shadows that danced along the walls like ghosts. It felt like walking into the lion’s den — again. “Where are we going?” I finally asked wh

Julia’s POVComing back here wasn’t out of free will. It was because he said so. Because Lucian always said so.And now I’m standing here again—alone, in his room, surrounded by silence so thick I could hear my own heart beating. The walls around me were dark, almost black, yet glinting faintly with embedded veins of gold and ruby. The dim chandelier above threw shards of amber light across the floor, painting everything with an expensive loneliness.I didn’t move. I didn’t even dare breathe too loudly. My back ached from standing too long, and disappointment crawled up my skin like a rash that refused to fade. I had thought tonight would be different. That maybe, for once, I could win something.I played that game—UNO—a thousand times before. I was good at it, fast and strategic. I’d even beaten him at it when we were younger. So when he suggested it again, I thought I had a chance. Foolish me.For one ridiculous moment, I believed I could win back my freedom with a few colored cards