Chapter Three
1245 Words
CHAPTER THREE
The drive back to the Prescott estate was a suffocating silence, broken only by the roar of Lucian’s customized black SUV. I sat rigid, my phone clutched so tightly my knuckles turned white. The photo of Ava, my sweet, innocent girl sleeping while a predator hovered nearby, played on a loop in my mind.
“He won’t touch her,” Lucian said, his voice cutting through the dark. He didn't look at her; his eyes were fixed on the iron gates of the mansion as they swung open.
“You don’t know him, Lucian,” I whispered. “Tobias doesn't see people. He sees leverage. If he thinks he’s losing his grip on me, he’ll ship Ava off just to watch me bleed.”
Lucian brought the car to a screeching halt directly in front of the grand entrance. He turned to her, his gray eyes flashing like flint. “I know exactly who he is. And he’s about to find out who I am.”
As we stepped into the foyer, the scene was a tableau of chaos. Tobias stood in the center of the marble hall, shouting at three men in black suits, Lucian’s security. Nora stood behind him, wrapped in a silk robe, looking more annoyed than frightened.
“I want them out!” Tobias roared. “This is private property! I’ll have every one of you arrested for…!”
He stopped mid-sentence as I walked in, my hand firmly held by Lucian Knight.
The silence that followed was heavy enough to crack the floorboards. Tobias’s gaze dropped to our joined hands, his face contorting from rage to pure, unadulterated shock. Behind him, Nora gasped, her eyes widening as she recognized the man standing next to her stepsister.
“Lucian Knight,” Tobias breathed, his voice trembling. “What the hell is the meaning of this?”
“It’s a business merger, Tobias,” Lucian said, his voice smooth as silk and twice as dangerous. He stepped forward, pulling me with him, forcing Tobias to back up. “I’ve acquired your debt, your primary shares, and your interest. And since your company is currently under-collateralized, I’ve decided to move in to ensure my investment is… well-protected.”
“You can’t move into my house!” Tobias screamed.
“Actually, check the deed,” I said, my lawyer’s voice returning with a cold, sharp edge. “This estate is registered under the Prescott Media Holding Group. Since Lucian is now the majority shareholder, he has every right to be here. Or would you like to take it to court? I’d be happy to represent him against you.”
Tobias looked like he’d been slapped. He turned his glare to Lily. “You… you’re sleeping with him? My rival? Have you no shame?”
“You’re the one who proposed the open marriage, Tobias,” I replied, stepping closer until I was inches from his face. “I’m just following your lead. You brought your mistress into the West Wing. I brought my partner into the Master Suite.”
Nora let out a shrill laugh. “The Master Suite? Lily, you’ve lost your mind. Tobias won’t allow this!”
Lucian didn't wait for Tobias to respond. He signaled to one of his men. “Take Mr. Prescott’s things to the guest rooms in the North Wing. My luggage is already being moved into the primary suite.”
“You’re bluffing,” Tobias hissed, but his bravado was crumbling. He looked at his phone, likely waiting for a confirmation that his threat regarding Ava had worked.
“Looking for this?” Lucian held up his own device. It showed a live feed of Ava’s room. But there were two new figures there, two elite female bodyguards in tactical gear, sitting by Ava’s bed, reading her a story.
“Your men are currently in the back of a van headed to the local precinct for trespassing and attempted kidnapping,” Lucian said coldly. “Touch the girl again, and I won’t call the police. I’ll call the undertaker.”
Tobias went pale. For the first time in five years, the power had shifted.
“Lily,” Tobias tried, his voice desperate. “Think about what you’re doing. This man is a monster. He’s been trying to destroy us for years!”
“He’s not destroying us, Tobias,” I said, my voice dropping to a whisper that echoed in the hall. “He’s destroying you. I’m just here to watch the fireworks.”
Lucian placed a possessive hand on the small of my back. “We’re tired, Tobias. Don't wake us in the morning. We have a lot of… catching up to do.”
He led me up the grand staircase, leaving Tobias and Nora standing in the dark foyer like ghosts of a life that was already dead.
Once inside the Master Suite, the door clicked shut, locking automatically. The bravado I had been holding up vanished. She leaned against the door, her breath coming in ragged gasps.
“He’s going to kill us,” I whispered.
Lucian didn't answer. He walked to the window, looking out at the sprawling estate he had just conquered. He began to unbutton his suit jacket, his movements slow and deliberate.
“Lucian?”
He turned back to me. In the dim light of the room, he looked less like a CEO and more like the outlaw he used to be. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, worn leather key fob with a motorcycle emblem on it.
“Do you know what today is, Lily?” he asked, his voice low and haunting.
“Our… my anniversary?”
“No,” Lucian said, his eyes locking onto hers with a terrifying intensity. “Today is the sixth anniversary of the night you helped a killer walk free. The night I promised I’d make the lawyer who did it pay in blood.”
He walked toward me, pinning me against the door. His scent, leather and cold rain wrapped around me like a shroud.
“You think this is about Tobias?” He let out a dark, mirthless chuckle. “Tobias is just the appetizer. You’re the main course. And now that I’m inside your house, Lily. I’m never letting you leave.”
My heart stopped. The deal I thought I’d made wasn't a rescue. It was a trap.
Just then, a muffled thud came from the adjoining dressing room. A small, high-pitched voice called out.
“Daddy? Is she here yet? Is the lady with the sad eyes here?”
Lily’s eyes widened. Lucian’s daughter. Trisha.
Lucian’s expression shifted, the coldness momentarily replaced by something far more complex, a mixture of pain and obsession.
“Stay here,” he commanded.
He opened the dressing room door, and a six-year-old girl with dark curls ran out, clutching a stuffed wolf. She stopped when she saw me, her eyes going wide.
“You look just like the picture in Daddy’s locket,” the girl whispered.
I felt the floor drop out from under her. A locket?
Before she could speak, the house’s alarm system began to wail. A red light flashed on the wall, a security breach.
Lucian grabbed his radio. “Report!”
“Sir,” a voice crackled through. “It’s Nora Whitmore. She’s not in the West Wing. She’s in the basement… and she’s holding a torch to the gas lines.”
- Writer
