Chapter 7
802 Words
Chapter Seven
Sophie stepped out of the cab, the cold city wind biting at her exposed skin. She pulled her coat tighter, glancing down at the address Lucas had sent her. This had to be a mistake.
She had expected a gleaming skyscraper, a high-rise development project, or perhaps the headquarters of another multimillion-dollar venture. Instead, she found herself standing in front of an old, unmarked brick building on the outskirts of the city.
The street was quiet, nearly abandoned, the hum of distant traffic the only sound breaking the silence. The building itself was unassuming—weathered, sturdy, and devoid of any obvious branding. No sleek logos. No security detail. Nothing that screamed Lucas Blackwell.
Frowning, she hesitated, her instincts prickling. Was this some kind of game? A distraction?
Still, she had agreed to see whatever it was he wanted to show her.
With a steadying breath, she reached for the heavy metal door and pushed it open.
The scent of fresh paint and sawdust hit her immediately. The air inside was warm but carried the distinct smell of construction—wood, cement, and the faint tang of metal. Sophie’s heels clicked softly against the unfinished concrete floor as she stepped inside.
The space was vast but far from complete. Exposed beams crisscrossed the ceiling, partially built walls separated different sections, and stacks of drywall leaned against one corner. A few workers bustled around, hammering, measuring, painting. Unlike Blackwell’s typical development sites, there were no expensive suits, no rushed corporate meetings—just real people working with their hands.
And at the center of it all stood Lucas.
His crisp suit jacket was gone, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing toned forearms lightly dusted with sawdust. He stood amidst a group of workers, his expression focused as he listened to their discussion.
He looked... different.
Sophie shook off the thought and stepped forward. “Okay, Blackwell. What is this?”
Lucas turned at the sound of her voice, a flicker of amusement in his dark eyes. “Welcome to The Haven.”
She arched a brow. “The Haven?”
“A community center,” he said simply. “For families displaced by gentrification. People who lost their homes because of developments like mine.”
Sophie stopped short, caught completely off guard. A community center?
She folded her arms, her voice sharp. “So you admit your projects are pushing people out?”
Lucas exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I admit it’s complicated.”
She let out a dry laugh. “And this is what—your way of easing your guilt?”
His jaw tightened, but he didn’t look away. “It’s my way of making a difference.”
Before she could respond, a woman in a bright yellow safety vest approached, carrying a clipboard. Her dark curls were piled into a loose bun, paint splattered across her jeans.
“Mr. Blackwell,” she said, flipping through the clipboard, “we just got the flooring shipment in. Should be installed by next week.”
“Good,” Lucas replied with a nod. “Let me know if you need anything.”
Sophie observed the exchange carefully. The woman’s tone wasn’t deferential—wasn’t filled with the cautious, measured respect most people used around billionaires. It was familiar. Comfortable.
This wasn’t the power-hungry mogul she was used to dealing with. This was... something else.
She turned back to him, suspicious. “Why have I never heard about this place?”
Lucas’s gaze was steady. “Because I don’t do this for publicity.”
Sophie frowned. That answer threw her more than she wanted to admit.
“No press releases? No investors’ names plastered on the walls? No grand openings with cameras flashing?”
Lucas smirked slightly. “Disappointed?”
She ignored that. “So you don’t want credit for this?”
His expression softened, just a fraction. “Not everything I do is about power, Sophie.”
Her breath hitched, and she hated the way those words affected her.
Because for the first time, she saw something in him that she hadn’t before. A c***k in the armor. A glimpse of something real.
And it made her question everything.
She squared her shoulders, determined to push past whatever strange pull she felt in that moment. “This doesn’t change the fact that people have been hurt by your projects.”
Lucas didn’t argue. “No, it doesn’t.” He studied her, his voice quiet but firm. “But it proves I’m not the villain you want me to be.”
Sophie opened her mouth to respond—but nothing came out.
Because for the first time since she started this investigation, she wasn’t sure if she was chasing a story—
Or getting lost in one.
- Writer
