~ 47 ~

~ 47 ~
LUCAS

The city below looked like it always did from the 28th floor—cold, constant, busy. Life moved on out there. Cars zipped past intersections, people chased morning meetings and deals, and everything kept spinning. But in my office, time had stilled. I stood with both hands planted on the edge of my desk, leaning slightly, my eyes fixed on the horizon but my mind replaying the last few days like a scratched vinyl.

I hadn't slept much since Esme returned. Since that night she showed up at my parents home for dinner, pulling me away after dinner to unveil the 'Little secret' as she calls it.

Eliana.

I hadn’t even needed a test or confirmation. One look at her and I’d known. The Crawford signature was too strong—high cheekbones, that same quiet defiance I saw every morning in the mirror. But still, something else stood out, instead of the the signature Crawford Jet black hair, she has brown curly hair, and brown eyes that I've known since Senior year of high school, she was Theo’s child. My best friend’s daughter.

I didn’t even hear the door until it slammed against the wall behind me.

The sound jolted me out of my thoughts.

Angry footsteps thundered across the room, each one a prelude to the storm I’d been trying to avoid since the moment Esme walked back into our lives.

I turned, and there he was.

Theo.

Furious. Betrayed. Heart pounding visibly in his chest.

And in that moment—before a word left his mouth, before the evidence spilled across my desk—I knew.

He knew.

“You lied to me,” he hissed, his voice razor-sharp as he slammed a handful of pictures onto my desk.

Photos of Esme. Of Eliana. In parks, cafés, museums. Some candid. One from a school event. Another from a beach day, her tiny hand holding Esme’s. And one—the one I couldn’t unsee—of Eliana asleep in Esme’s arms, her face turned just enough to show that unmistakable Crawford profile.

I didn’t touch them. Didn’t need to.

Theo’s voice thundered again, “How long, Lucas? How long have you known?”

“I only found out when she came back,” I said, voice low, even though it sounded like a damn excuse.

“And you didn’t think I deserved to know? You knew, and you said nothing?” His hands were shaking, and it wasn’t from rage alone. It was pain. Deep, guttural pain that I knew too well.

“She begged me not to tell you,” I said, still not moving, still rooted like a coward to the floor.

Theo laughed. Harsh and broken. “She begged? And that was all it took? A few tears and you tossed every bit of our friendship aside?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“No, Lucas. It’s exactly that simple!” He was pacing now, hands in his hair. “You told me she was back. You looked me in the eye—you looked me in the eye—and you still hid my daughter from me!”

“I didn’t know what to do—”

“You should’ve told me! God, I would’ve rather hated you for being honest than... than this.” His voice cracked, and that hit me harder than the yelling.

I finally stepped around the desk, but he stepped back like my presence burned.

“I didn’t tell you because I knew it wasn’t my place. Esme wanted to explain it herself, she said she needed time—”

“So you gave her time while I walked around like a clueless idiot?” He was trembling now, fists clenched, grief pouring out of him like an open wound. “She has a child, Lucas. My child. And I've missed a year. I missed her life. Her first words. Her first steps. Her first everything.”

I didn’t say anything. What could I say? That I understood? That I was sorry?

Neither of those things would bring back the years he’d lost.

“She didn’t even give me the chance to be a father,” he said softer now, but with more pain in that whisper than all the shouting before it. “But you knew. And you kept that from me.”

“She’s my sister, Theo.” I finally met his eyes. “I didn’t choose her over you. I tried to protect both of you.”

His voice was hollow now. “Even if it meant hurting me?”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. Because the truth hung in the silence between us.

Yes.

Theo looked at me for one long, broken moment. And then he turned and stormed out of the office without another word.

The door slammed shut behind him, echoing through the room like the final strike of a gavel.

And just like that, the weight of it all came crashing down on my shoulders.

I sank into my chair, hands gripping the armrests like they could hold me upright.

The city outside hadn’t changed. People still moved, horns still honked, life still pressed forward.

But inside me—something was fractured.

I reached for my phone with heavy fingers and typed two words.

"He knows".

I hit send.

And for the first time in years, I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be able to fix what I’d broken.

\---

I didn’t remember deciding to walk. Didn’t even notice I’d left the office until I was stepping into the elevator, the silence inside pressing against my ears. My phone was still in my pocket. Theo hadn’t replied.

I didn’t blame him.

The city’s rhythm greeted me as I stepped outside—traffic lights blinking in sequence, pedestrians weaving between each other, lives moving on without pause. But my own world felt... stagnant. Like someone had hit pause on everything except the pounding in my chest.

Somehow, my feet took me to the one place that still held a thread of familiarity.

The Apparel Complex.

It didn’t matter that the sales had ended nearly two weeks ago. People still poured in and out, their arms filled with bags, their smiles wide as they left with tiny pieces of the curated world she’d built. Lila Grayson. Always drawing people in, even when she wasn’t there. Her store had become a landmark, a destination. Like her.

I didn’t know what I was doing there. I hadn’t planned to stop by. Maybe it was instinct. Maybe guilt. Maybe I just needed to be near something—someone—who didn’t look at me with betrayal in their eyes.

I stood there for a moment, just outside the glass storefront, hands shoved deep into my pockets, watching.

Her staff moved like a well-oiled machine. Purposeful. Efficient. Loyal. A few faces I recognized, others not. One of them moved with particular urgency, barking soft orders, occasionally glancing toward the register, the entrance, the shelves.

Ethan.

That was his name. Her second-in-command. Lila’s right hand. I’d had enough silent interactions with him over time to know he was one of the few people she trusted without question. And when I needed to know anything about her—her moods, her whereabouts, her schedule—he was the one I turned to. Quietly. Discreetly.

I didn’t realize I’d caught his attention until he stepped out from behind the counter and began walking toward me. Straight down the hallway, each step measured. When he reached me, he gave a polite nod, professional but not cold.

“Mr. Crawford,” he greeted.

Before I could say a word, he beat me to it. “Miss Grayson is not in at the moment. But I’ll drop whatever message you have for her.”

That struck a nerve. She wasn’t in? Where else could she be on the first work day of the week if not her store.

He must have sensed the conflict in my mood that he carried on, "She was meant to return today..." But I beat him to it.

“Return from where?” I asked, voice sharper than I meant it to be.

He didn’t flinch. “Her mother’s memorial.”

Something in me stilled.

Her mother’s memorial.

My lips parted, but no sound came out.

“She was supposed to resume today,” Ethan continued, glancing back toward the bustling store, “but none of us have been able to reach her. Her phone’s been off since morning.”

That was all it took.

Something cold and wild stirred in my chest. I didn’t wait. Didn’t say anything. Just turned and moved. My legs were already taking me down the corridor, out through the side entrance, the hum of conversation and music fading behind me.

I was in my car in less than two minutes, hands gripping the wheel, knuckles white.

My mind raced as I weaved through city traffic, but my focus never wavered.

Lila.

Why hadn’t she come in? Why hadn’t anyone heard from her?

I hated how quickly my mind jumped to the worst possibilities.

I hated that I wasn’t the one she’d called—or maybe I was never meant to be.

Still, my foot pressed harder on the accelerator, weaving through the Friday evening gridlock like a man possessed.

I should’ve known she wasn’t okay. I should’ve noticed. I had been so tangled in my own mess—Esme, Theo, the goddamn truth—I hadn’t even thought to check on the one person whose silence said more than words ever could.

Lila wasn’t the type to just vanish.

Not unless she was hurting.

I made one last turn and the skyline shifted, familiar buildings giving way to the residential block she called home. Her building came into view, tall and modern, but with a warmth that matched her—glass panes reflecting soft sunlight, hanging planters swaying in the breeze.

I parked, cutting the engine with trembling fingers.

I didn’t move right away. I just sat there, staring up at the balcony I knew belonged to her. There were no lights on inside.

But I knew she was there.

Because despite everything else I’d messed up this week... my heart still knew where to find her.

And this time, I wasn’t leaving without making things right.