Chapter 259
Lucas' POV
I sat in that plastic chair, my hands still tacky with Sophia's blood, and stared at the surgical ward doors. Nurses passed by, doctors consulted in low voices, the overhead intercom called codes I didn't understand. None of it registered.
All I could see was Sophia's face as she fell. The moment of terrible understanding in her eyes when she realized what Claire had done. The way her hands had moved instinctively to protect our child even as her body slammed into concrete.
She'd chosen the baby over herself.
And I'd failed them both.
This was worse than death. Worse than those years after my family's bankruptcy when I'd lived on the edge of a knife, making deals with people who'd just as soon kill me as look at me. At least then, I'd only had myself to lose.
"Mr. Reynolds?"
I looked up to find Adrian standing over me, his expression carefully neutral. He'd changed into a fresh suit, all traces of the earlier chaos erased except for the tension around his eyes.
"The police are here," he said quietly. "They want to speak with you about the incident."
"Where's Claire?"
"Security has her in a conference room downstairs. She's—" He paused, choosing his words carefully. "She's asking to see you."
A laugh escaped me, bitter and sharp. "I bet she is."
"Sir, there's something else you should know." Adrian's voice dropped even lower. "Miss Vanderbilt has been calling her family's lawyers. They're already talking about self-defense, about Miss Cruz being the aggressor—"
"She pushed her." The words came out through clenched teeth. "I saw Claire standing in that doorway without a scratch on her while Sophia—" I couldn't finish. Couldn't force myself to describe what I'd seen.
"I know, sir. But without witnesses, it becomes a matter of he-said, she-said." Adrian pulled out his phone, showing me a still frame from security footage. "However, the hospital's stairwell cameras caught everything."
I grabbed the phone, my hands shaking as I enlarged the image. There—Claire and Sophia at the top of the stairs, their body language aggressive. Claire's hand reaching out, hooking around Sophia's ankle as she turned. The deliberate shift of weight that sent Sophia tumbling backward while Claire caught herself on the doorframe.
It was all there. Every calculated second of it.
"Send this to the police," I said, my voice steady for the first time since I'd seen Sophia fall. "And make sure our lawyers get a copy. I want charges filed within the hour."
"Already done, sir." Adrian hesitated. "There's one more thing. Miss Vanderbilt is claiming she's pregnant. She's saying the stress of the situation could harm her baby."
The rage that swept through me was cold and absolute. "She's lying."
"Sir?"
"She's lying." I stood, my legs steadier now, fueled by pure fury. "I never even slept with her. How the hell could she be pregnant with my child? This is just another manipulation."
"Understood." Adrian made a note on his phone. "I'll have our medical team verify her claims."
Footsteps echoed down the corridor—heels clicking against linoleum with the kind of desperate urgency that made my jaw clench.
Claire appeared, flanked by two security guards who looked deeply uncomfortable with their assignment. Her carefully applied makeup was smudged now, mascara tracking down her cheeks in artful streaks.
"Lucas." She tried to move toward me, but the guards held her back. "Lucas, please, I really didn't mean for this to happen—"
"Stop talking."
"But you have to understand, I'm your fiancée! You have to forgive me this once—"
"Fiancée?" The word tasted like poison. "You think you deserve that title? With one word from me, you think you'd still be my fiancée?" I took a step closer, watching her flinch. "My fiancée wouldn't be a murderer."
Her face went white. "What are you—we agreed to get married! You can't just—you're forgetting what I did for you! I saved your life!"
"You did," I agreed, my voice flat. "Seven years ago, you saved me. You gave me resources, connections, a way back into this world." I paused, letting the words sink in. "But let's talk about what kind of resources those were, Claire. Do you want to tell everyone here how your family's money was made? What kind of deals I had to broker, what kind of people I had to work with to climb back to where I am now?"
She opened her mouth, then closed it again.
"That's what I thought." I leaned in closer, close enough to see the fear in her eyes. "I've spent the last seven years cleaning up your family's messes, saving your father's company from bankruptcy twice, burying scandals that would have destroyed your precious reputation. Whatever debt I owed you? I paid it back in full years ago."
"Lucas—"
"If Sophia and her child don't make it through this," I continued, my voice dropping to barely above a whisper, "you'll spend the rest of your life in prison. And I'll make sure you never see daylight again."
Claire's legs gave out. She collapsed onto the floor, her designer dress pooling around her, all pretense of composure finally shattered. "You can't mean that. Lucas, you can't—"
"Take her back downstairs," I told the guards. "And make sure she doesn't leave until the police arrive."
They hauled her to her feet, her protests fading as they dragged her toward the elevator. I turned away, unable to look at her anymore without imagining my hands around her throat.
"Mr. Reynolds?"
I spun around to find a man in his late fifties standing in the corridor, his face haggard with worry and confusion. Miguel Cruz. Sophia's father.
"What's going on?" His accent was thicker than usual, stress bleeding through every word. "I've been looking for my daughter for minutes. The nurses said she wasn't in her mother's room, and then I heard something about an emergency—" His gaze shifted to the surgical ward doors, and his face went gray. "She's not in there, is she?"