Underneath The Truth

To Lucille Laurent, the perfume of the Einsteins' estate was one of loss, despite the fact that the air was heavy with the aroma of flowers and old money. She clenched her fist around the crumpled letter. Days before, the wax-sealed invitation had arrived, calling her to an occasion she didn't want to go to. It was Edward Einstein again. The husband of her sister. The one who had deserted her when she most needed him. Even though he was unaware of it, the man was responsible for ruining her family. As Lucille entered the big hall of Einstein's mansion, her hands began to shake. The weight of the past was bearing down on her as the marble flooring glittered in the light from the chandelier. The butler escorted her into the parlor, where her sister's former mother-in-law, Eleanor Einstein, sat on her emerald throne like a queen. The elderly woman remarked, hardly looking up from her teacup, "You came." The bitterness rose in Lucille's throat, but she swallowed it. "I came for no small talk." At last, Eleanor turned to face her, a glimmer of enjoyment in her piercing eyes. "Well, I guess you didn't." Lucille spoke steadily, although her heart was racing. "Why have you called me here? " Eleanor sipped her cup slowly and then put it down with a gentle clink. "Edward has returned to assume control of the family business." He will shortly get married again. Lucille tucked her fingers into her dress. She said, "He doesn't deserve happiness." Eleanor's mouth twitched. “Maybe not. However, my darling, fate has a way of playing cruel tricks.” Lucille was unaware of the prophetic nature of those words. As Lucille strolled along the peaceful street, her thoughts racing with memories she wished she could forget, the city lights became indistinct. Edward had formerly been loved by her sister, Celia. Or she had tried, anyway. However, he had never returned her love. And it had cost Celia dearly. As Lucille entered the road, too preoccupied to notice the oncoming car, the agony of the past tore at her breast. She was startled out of her reverie by the abrupt blare of an engine. She was blinded by headlights. The hit pushed her flying into the concrete before she could respond. She moaned and tried to push herself up as pain shot through her side. Then powerful hands encircled her arms, effortlessly raising her. She blinked up into the face of the guy she detested the most as she gasped. Edward. As he steadied her, his brows knitted and his hands became more firm. "Are you in pain? " She could identify his voice anywhere, even though it was deeper and rougher. Her veins blazed with rage. "You," she exhaled, pushing him aside. Edward's attitude changed from one of worry to one of perplexity. "Am I acquainted with you? " The boldness. Ignoring the ache pulsing through her body, Lucille straightened. She scowled at him, her claws digging into her palms. "You ought to," she remarked in a tone as icy as iron. His eyes grew piercing as insight set in. Lucille caught a glimpse of it, the moment of recognition, then something else. Shame. Excellent. since she wasn't present to extend forgiveness. Her purpose was to hold him accountable. Edward's thoughts were racing as he gazed at the woman in front of him. She shook him more than any other beautiful woman he had ever seen—innumerable, actually. The pain flickered in her eyes, but she stood straight, her chest rising and falling with barely contained rage. A delicate yet fierce face was framed by long, chestnut hair that fell over her shoulders. Men penned poetry about her wicked temptation, her lips slightly parted from the breath she strained to gather. However, it was her eyes—stormy, relentless, and brimming with something perilously like hatred—that imprisoned him. Then it dawned on him. "Lucille." Her name was a whisper on his lips, yet he could tell she heard it because of the short breath she took. "Do you recall now? She spoke in a smooth, controlled tone, but he could hear the poison beneath it. "How practical." With his fingers twitching at his sides, Edward took a step forward. "New Orleans is where you were." She raised her chin and said, "Far away from you." "And it made me better." With a hand running through his hair, Edward let out a breath. Ten years. Ten years had passed since he had abandoned his family, his history, and his transgressions. He had persuaded himself that a man was not always pursued by ghosts. He had been mistaken. "Why have you returned? He studied her and inquired. Lucille chuckled sharply. It's funny. I could pose the same query to you. He gritted his teeth. "This is where I call home." She had a piercing smile. "Your house? Do you mean where you left off? The family you fled? " Her words weighed on Edward like a fist to his ribs. He had buried the past for years, engulfing himself in power, job, and anything else that would prevent him from thinking about what he had lost. Lucille, however, had never been one to accept things as they were. She didn't back down when he took another step in her direction. "I didn't leave my family behind," he remarked quietly. "You left her behind," Lucille said, her eyes darting. "You abandoned my sister to languish in a marriage that she never requested." And you failed to be there for her when she most needed you. Edward's throat became constricted. His insides ached with guilt, but he made himself maintain his face impassive. "You have no idea what you're discussing." A sardonic smile curved Lucille's lips. She poked a finger into his chest and said, "Oh, I know exactly what I'm talking about." "After you departed, do you even know what happened to her? Are you aware of how she As though the very act of saying was too much, she interrupted herself and shook her head. Edward felt a knot in his stomach. He knew what had happened, of course. Even in New York, he had heard the reports. Lucille, however, was unaware of the reality. She had no idea why he had gone. Nor would she. She must have become even more enraged by his silence because she scoffed and took a step back. "That's what I believed," she whispered. Edward, controlling his temper, took a long breath and let it out. “Lucille, what do you want from me? " She fixed her unblinking eyes on his. "Nothing." It was false. Even though she hadn't told herself yet, she had a desire. She turned abruptly on her heel before he could press any more. Something inside of Edward begged him to keep her from leaving, and he nearly reached out and grasped her wrist. However, she did. He also had the uneasy thought that this was not the last time he would see Lucille Laurent as he watched her vanish into the night. Fueled by a fire she had buried for years, Lucille's heels snapped fiercely on the pavement with every step. She had to leave him far behind. Even though the night air felt cool against her warm skin, the tempest that was brewing within her was not much quieted. As she relived the moment she finally met Edward's gaze after all these years, her heart raced in her ears. She had often pondered what it would be like to encounter the man who had left and never returned, to confront him once more. But this was not what she had anticipated. She hadn't anticipated how his mere presence made her stomach turn. Einstein, Edward. The man, formerly married to her sister. Her family was destroyed by the individual in question. And he was back now. Beside her, a sleek black automobile halted, its headlights creating a long shadow on the deserted sidewalk. Too preoccupied with her thoughts to notice, she dismissed it. until the door on the driver's side opened. From behind her, Edward's voice said, "You're hurt." Lucille froze, but she didn't look back. "I'll survive." Now he was close. Too near. The indisputable energy that had always enveloped him was palpable to her. "You are limping," he said. She laughed. "I'm all right, Edward. Return to the castle from where you fled. However, a solid hand grabbed her wrist before she could move forward. Something she didn't want to define was ignited by the heat of his skin as it scorched through her. His voice was calm yet firm as he instructed, "Get in the car." She spun around to look at him after yanking her arm free. "Pardon me? " Although his face was still unreadable, Edward's jaw was fixed and his eyes were fixed on hers. "I'll drive you back home." Lucille laughed without humor. “ Do you think we'll ever get in a car together?” His jaw muscle twitched. "I hit you with my vehicle. Making sure you get home safely is the least I can do. "Oh, what else could you do? She tilted her head and crossed her arms. When my sister was sobbing herself to sleep every night and wondered why her husband hated her, where was this worry? " Edward winced. It was short—so short that no one else would have noticed. However, she noticed it. Excellent. She desired for him to experience the pain of the past. "Lucille, you don't understand," he replied in a coarser, lower voice. She yelled, "Oh, please." The tortured billionaire routine should be avoided. She started to walk away once more, but her ankle started to hurt before she could take two steps. Before she could stop it, she let out a little gasp. Edward was there in a flash. He whispered to himself, "Damn it," and then he easily lifted her into his arms. "Put me down! She wriggled against his grip in protest. He clenched his fingers. "You will injure yourself more if you continue to fight me." Lucille's claws dug into the silky material of his pricey suit as her fists pressed against his chest. She screamed, "I hate you," but her frantic delivery made it sound more like a plea than a threat. Something flickered in Edward's eyes as he caught her gaze. "Well done." He carried her to his car, opened the door, and put her inside without saying another word. Lucille longed to fight back, to wriggle out and charge into the night. She knew she wouldn't last long, though, because her ankle hurt. The gap between them became suddenly too tight and too tense when Edward climbed into the driver's seat next to her.