Chapter 219
Sophia's POV
I watched through the crack in the closet door as Lucas straightened his tie, his expression settling into something smooth and practiced.
"I was just reviewing the quarterly reports," he said to Claire, his voice perfectly calibrated—warm but professional. "Lost track of time."
Such a polished lie. So effortless.
Claire's expression softened immediately. "You work too hard," she murmured, stepping closer. Then her gaze flickered—just for a second—toward the closet where I was hiding.
My breath caught. 'Won't she know I'm hiding in the closet?'
But Claire's attention shifted back to Lucas, and she pressed herself against him. "We've been engaged for four years," she said, something plaintive in her voice. "When are we actually getting married?"
Lucas's hand cupped her face. "Soon."
I must have thought wrong.
"How soon?" Claire persisted. "Three months?"
A pause. Long enough that I could hear my own heartbeat thundering.
Then Lucas nodded slowly. "Fair enough."
The words landed like a stone in my stomach.
Claire's face lit up, and she threw her arms around his neck. "Really? You mean it?"
"I mean it," Lucas said, his hands settling on her waist with a gentleness I'd never felt from him.
Something twisted inside me—something ugly and unwanted. I pressed my palm against my mouth, biting down to keep from making a sound.
This was what I wanted. For him to marry someone else. For him to finally let me go.
So why did it feel like something was breaking apart inside my chest?
Claire pulled back to look up at him, eyes shining. "I love you so much."
Lucas's thumb brushed her cheek. "I know."
Claire rose on her tiptoes to kiss him, and Lucas responded smoothly. His hands slid down to her hips, pulling her closer.
I should have looked away. Should have closed my eyes.
I didn't.
Because some sick, masochistic part of me needed to see this. Needed to watch him be tender with someone else.
Claire's breathing turned ragged. Her hands fumbled with Lucas's shirt buttons, and he let her, his fingers working at her dress zipper.
"Here?" she breathed against his mouth. "Now?"
"Why not?" Lucas murmured. "The door's locked."
And your future husband's dirty little secret is hiding ten feet away, I thought bitterly.
Claire laughed—soft and breathy—and let Lucas lift her onto his desk. Her dress slid down her shoulders.
Lucas's mouth moved to her throat, her collarbone. Claire's head fell back, fingers tangling in his hair.
"God, Luc," she gasped. "I've missed this."
"I'm right here," he said against her skin.
His hands were gentle as he unhooked her bra. Claire arched into him with a soft cry, legs wrapping around his waist.
"Please," she whispered. "I need you—"
Lucas pulled back slightly. "Let me take care of you first."
He sank to his knees in front of her, and I watched—sick with something I couldn't name—as he hooked his fingers into her panties and slid them down.
Claire's breath hitched. "Luc—"
"Shh." His hands pushed her thighs apart. "Just relax."
I couldn't see everything from my angle, but I could see enough. Could see Claire's hands grip the desk edge. Could see her head fall back as Lucas's mouth found her.
The sounds she made were soft and genuine. Not performative. Not faked.
I felt bile rise in my throat.
Lucas worked her with methodical precision. His tongue, his fingers—all perfectly calculated to bring her to the edge.
"Oh God," Claire gasped, hips rolling against his mouth. "Yes, right there, don't stop—"
And he didn't. He brought her higher until she was trembling, until she came with a cry that sounded like relief.
Lucas pulled back, wiping his mouth. He looked up at Claire with an expression that might have passed for affection if you didn't know better.
"Better?" he asked.
Claire nodded, still catching her breath. Her hands reached for his belt. "Your turn."
But Lucas caught her wrists. "Not yet."
"But—"
"Soon," he said, rising. His hands were already pulling her dress back up. "When we're married. I want our wedding night to mean something."
Perfect bullshit. Perfect manipulation.
"You're such a romantic," she said, laughing as she kissed him. "Three months. I can wait three months."
"That's my girl," Lucas murmured.
'Lucas is disgusting; he's really living it up with his harem.’
Claire finished dressing, checking her reflection. "I should go," she said reluctantly. "I have that fitting appointment."
"For the dress?" Lucas asked, sounding genuinely interested.
"For the dress," Claire confirmed, beaming. "I can't wait for you to see it."
"I'm sure you'll be beautiful."
They kissed again—sweet and chaste—and then Claire was gathering her purse.
"Don't work too late," she said from the doorway.
"I won't."
"I love you."
"I know."
The door closed behind her. Silence.
I waited, legs cramping in the confined space. Waited for Lucas to tell me I could come out.
He didn't.
Minutes passed. My body was shaking—from cold, from exhaustion, from the sick horror of what I'd just witnessed.
Lucas had knelt before Claire. Had put his mouth on her with something that looked almost like reverence.
He'd never done that for me. Never.
With me, it was always about control. About domination. About making me understand exactly how powerless I was.
But with Claire, he'd been... gentle. Caring. Almost tender.
The realization settled over me like a shroud.
I'm disgusting, I thought. For letting this happen. For not fighting harder.
He's disgusting for doing this. For keeping me trapped.
We're both disgusting. We deserve each other.
The thought made me want to claw my own skin off.
My eyes were burning. My throat tight. But I was too tired to cry. Too numb.
I let my head fall back against the wall. And before I knew it, darkness was pulling me under.
---
I woke to the sensation of being lifted.
Strong arms under my knees, around my back. The familiar scent of expensive cologne and something darker underneath.
Lucas.
My body moved on instinct, arms wrapping around his neck even as my mind struggled to surface from sleep.
"Luc," I mumbled, voice hoarse. "You're getting married."
"Yes." His voice was quiet. Careful.
I felt myself being carried out of the closet, into the cooler air of his office. My head lolled against his shoulder.
"Then let me go," I whispered as I smiled. "Please. Just... let me go."