Chapter 34 Lucien POV

Chapter 34 Lucien POV
Chapter 34 : Distant

Lucien POV

The house was quiet, too quiet. Even the faint hum of the city beyond the gates felt distant, like it belonged to someone else’s life. Lucien sat in his office, the dim light from the desk lamp casting sharp shadows across his face. He ran a hand through his hair, the tension coiling in his chest tighter with every passing second.

He should have been elsewhere. With Tabitha, with the people who looked up to him at the party, with anything but sitting here alone, thinking. But he couldn’t stop. His mind kept circling, returning to one person—Susan.

Maybe he should feel satisfaction. Maybe he should feel in control. After all, he had orchestrated everything. She had signed the papers. The baby was under his rules, under his care, even if reluctantly. That should have been enough to feel… triumphant. But he didn’t.

Instead, he felt an unease, a gnawing uncertainty that he hadn’t felt in years.

He leaned back, his chair creaking slightly. “Is this… bad?” he whispered to himself, almost like asking the empty room.

He knew why he did it. He knew why he allowed Tabitha to manipulate, to plant lies, to create tension. It kept Susan under control. It reminded her of her place. He believed he was protecting his child, ensuring the heir’s safety. That was the priority. That was all that mattered.

But then the memory of Susan’s face, pale and weary, sitting in her room days ago, feeding their baby alone, swam before him. The way she carried herself, exhausted but determined, never asking for help, never showing weakness. The way she had handled Tabitha, kept her dignity intact even when the other woman spat venom and tried to humiliate her.

Lucien’s jaw tightened. Had he been too harsh? Had he been too focused on control?

He had never known her for long—months, not years. Yet, even in this short time, she had shown a strength that irritated him, yes, but also… unsettled him. She wasn’t like the women he had known before. She hadn’t begged, she hadn’t schemed, she hadn’t tried to manipulate him like Tabitha did. She had simply endured.

Had he been wrong to trust Tabitha’s words over Susan’s actions? To believe the lies that painted her as weak, as someone easily controlled?

The thought churned uncomfortably in his chest. Maybe he had underestimated her. Maybe he had misread everything. But he also reminded himself—Susan had signed the papers willingly. She had given up her claim to their life together. Wasn’t that proof that she accepted the rules he had set?

And yet…

When he closed his eyes, he saw her, small and resolute, speaking firmly even in the face of his authority, asserting herself despite the circumstances. He had watched her cry quietly, absorb pain without complaint, and he realized something that unsettled him more than he cared to admit: she could survive without him.

And that thought… made him feel powerless.

He shook his head, trying to banish it. Control was the point. He knew that. He had to keep control. That was his nature, his instinct. But the guilt lingered, subtle, like a shadow in the corner of a room he thought he had emptied.

Was he cruel? Or was Tabitha crueler? He had justified her manipulations as a tool, a safeguard for the child. But did that make it right? Did that make it fair?

And Susan… she hadn’t asked for anything but basic care. She hadn’t schemed, hadn’t demanded. She had only endured. Was that endurance a silent accusation? Was it a testament to her strength? Or was it a mirror, reflecting his own failures?

Lucien leaned forward, resting his head in his hands. For a moment, he allowed himself to think… maybe he had misjudged her. Maybe he had let his pride and his need to control blind him to what really mattered: her humanity, her courage, the fact that she had done everything alone for the sake of their child.

A part of him wanted to call her, to rush to her side and apologize, to tell her he hadn’t realized, hadn’t truly understood. But another part of him—the part that thrived on control—warned him. He couldn’t let go entirely, couldn’t show weakness, couldn’t let Susan feel she had power over him.

The office felt colder now, the shadows longer. Lucien stared at the empty crib in his mind, imagining Susan there with the baby, unprotected, alone… enduring everything silently. His chest tightened. A pang of guilt struck harder than any fear of losing control ever could.

For the first time, he questioned himself—not his enemies, not Tabitha, not the world—but himself.

Was he protecting his child, or was he protecting his pride? Was he preserving order, or was he simply feeding his obsession?

He ran a hand down his face, exhaling slowly, the room still and heavy around him. The truth settled, uncomfortable and undeniable: he could control everything—Tabitha, the household, even the baby—but he couldn’t control Susan. And that terrified him more than he cared to admit.

Lucien’s eyes hardened, the faint glimmer of regret buried deep under the mask he always wore. One thing was clear: he couldn’t let her leave, but he also couldn’t ignore the truth staring back at him. Susan wasn’t weak. Susan wasn’t naive. And for the first time, he realized… she might be stronger than him.

And he didn’t know if he was ready to face that.