Chapter 63

Chapter 63

LUCAS

The text came through while we were pulling into the underground garage of the building. I'd been watching Adam's excited chatter about his new room, feeling that warm contentment that had become familiar over the past weeks, when my phone buzzed.

Unknown number.

I almost ignored it—probably spam, or another journalist trying to get an exclusive about my whirlwind marriage. But something made me look.

The image loaded slowly, and when it finally came into focus, my blood turned to ice.

Sofia Lang. In her apartment. Sitting on her couch with a mug, completely unaware that someone was photographing her through her window.

The text beneath the image was simple and chilling: Such a fragile, unaware person. Tell me, if we kill her, would it hurt you?

My hands started shaking. I stared at the phone, trying to process what I was seeing, trying to understand what kind of sick person would send something like this.

Another text came through. Another photo—this one of Sofia in the office building, late at night when the floors were empty. She was at her desk, illuminated only by her computer screen, completely alone and vulnerable.

Then another. Sofia at a grocery store. Sofia getting coffee. Sofia walking down the street.

Someone was following her. Watching her. Documenting her every move.

She has no idea she's being watched, the next text read. No idea how easy it would be to get to her. Does that concern you, Mr. Davenport? Would you even notice if she disappeared?

My stomach lurched. This wasn't random. This was targeted. Someone had figured out the connection between Sofia and me, had decided she was significant enough to threaten.

"Lucas?" Sophia's voice seemed to come from very far away. "Are you okay? You look pale."

I couldn't answer. Couldn't look away from my phone as another image loaded.

This one made bile rise in my throat.

Sofia in an elevator with a man. His face was obscured by a cap pulled low, but his hand was on her lower back, guiding her. The image was grainy, clearly taken from security footage, but the intimacy of the gesture was unmistakable.

Does she fuck him the way she wishes she could fuck you? the accompanying text read. Does she scream his name and pretend it's yours? Tell me, Lucas—have you thought about what she'd look like underneath you? What she'd sound like begging for it?

I was going to be sick. Actually, physically sick.

"Lucas?" Sophia's hand on my arm made me flinch. "What's wrong? What happened?"

"Work," I managed, my voice sounding strangled even to my own ears. "Just... work crisis. I need to make some calls."

I could see the concern on her face, the way she was reading my obvious distress and trying to understand it. But I couldn't explain this. Couldn't tell her that someone was threatening a woman she already felt insecure about, that this might escalate everything in ways I couldn't control.

"Mama, are we home?" Adam's voice cut through my panic. "Can we see my room now?"

"Yes, baby." Sophia's eyes never left my face, but she forced brightness into her voice for Adam's sake. "Let's get you inside. Papa just needs to handle something for work."

Luke had already opened the car door, and Sophia carefully helped Adam out, steadying him when he wobbled slightly on still-weak legs. I should have been there helping, should have been present for this moment I'd promised to be part of.

Instead, I was frozen in the backseat, staring at more images loading on my phone.

Sofia at a restaurant. Sofia leaving her apartment building in workout clothes. Sofia talking to a colleague outside the office.

She's so easy to follow, the texts continued. So predictable in her routines. Every Tuesday she gets coffee at the same shop. Every Thursday she works late. Every weekend she goes to the same grocery store. She's practically begging to be taken.

This was wrong. So fundamentally wrong. Sofia had already been through hell—whatever trauma had driven her to that bridge, whatever darkness she'd barely escaped from. She didn't deserve this. Didn't deserve to be stalked and threatened and sexualized by some psychopath who'd decided to target her because of her connection to me.

"Lucas." Sophia's voice was firmer now. "Whatever this is, you need to handle it. But Adam needs you right now. Can you at least come inside and get him settled before you disappear into work mode?"

She was right. I knew she was right. But I couldn't stop staring at my phone, at the evidence that someone was out there right now, watching Sofia, planning something I couldn't even let myself imagine.

"I'm sorry," I said, finally looking up at Sophia. "I know this is bad timing. But this is... it's urgent. Life or death urgent. I need to make some calls."

Something flickered across her face—hurt, maybe, or resignation. Like she'd expected this. Like she'd been waiting for me to choose work over family.

"Okay," she said quietly. "Do what you need to do. I'll take care of Adam."

The disappointment in her voice made my chest ache, but I couldn't deal with that right now. Couldn't explain or reassure or fix whatever I'd just broken in her eyes.

I had to make sure Sofia was safe.

I climbed out of the car and headed straight for my home office, barely registering Martha's excited greeting or Adam's questions about where Papa was going. The door closed behind me with a firm click, and I immediately tried calling Sofia.

Straight to voicemail.

I tried again. Same result.

"Fuck." I paced the office, my mind racing through possibilities. Was she already hurt? Had they gotten to her? The photos had looked recent—she'd been wearing the same outfit in the office photo that I'd seen her in yesterday.

Another text came through: Trying to warn her? How sweet. But she can't answer right now. She's... occupied.

My heart stopped. Another image loaded—this one showed Sofia's front door, slightly ajar, a sliver of her apartment visible beyond.

Should I go inside? Would you care if I did?