Chapter 261
Lucas' POV
I sat in my car in the hospital parking garage, staring at nothing.
Miguel's words kept replaying in my head: "When my daughter wakes up, the last person she'll want to see is you."
The finality in his voice. The disgust in his eyes.
I deserved it. All of it.
My hands gripped the steering wheel so hard my knuckles went white. The image of Sophia on that hospital bed—pale, broken, hooked up to machines—wouldn't leave my mind. And the baby. Our baby.
Gone.
Because of me. Because I'd been too blind, too consumed by my own twisted need for control to see what Claire really was.
I'd caged Sophia for seven years. Punished her for sins she never committed. And now she'd lost our child because of it.
My phone buzzed repeatedly. Finally, I looked down.
Aiden: 【Boss, we need to talk. The preliminary investigation results should be ready soon. Victor's team is working around the clock.】
I typed back: Keep me updated.
Then I turned off my phone and drove home.
---
The following days passed in a fog.
I didn't sleep. Couldn't eat. Just sat in my penthouse staring at the city lights and thinking about everything I'd lost.
Around noon three days later, my doorbell rang.
I ignored it.
It rang again. Then my phone buzzed.
Victor: I'm outside your door. Open up. We need to talk.
I dragged myself off the couch and opened the door.
Victor Ashford stood there in his usual impeccable suit, expression grim. He held a thick manila envelope.
"You look like hell," he said bluntly.
"Get to the point, Victor."
He walked past me into the penthouse, setting the envelope on the coffee table. "The investigation results. Everything you asked for and more."
I stared at the envelope. "Just tell me."
"No." Victor's voice was firm. "You need to see this yourself."
With trembling hands, I picked up the envelope and opened it.
Financial records. Email chains. Recorded phone conversations.
Evidence of a coordinated attack on Reynolds Real Estate that had begun three months before our collapse.
At the center: Whitemore Holdings.
Claire's father, Richmond Whitemore, working with two other old-money families who'd resented my grandfather's success.
"They orchestrated the whole thing," Victor said quietly. "Falsified loan documents, manipulated stock prices, strategically timed media leaks."
I couldn't speak.
"There's more." Victor pulled out another folder. "The attack. The one where Claire supposedly saved you."
I opened it with trembling hands.
Hired muscle from a private security firm contracted with Whitemore Holdings. The timing of Claire's arrival, the convenient presence of her "security team" in that specific alley at that specific moment.
All staged.
"She planned it," I whispered. "All of it."
"Yes." Victor's expression was grim. "And preliminary findings suggest Claire was involved in both Mrs. Cruz's hospitalization and Sophia's fall."
The room tilted.
Seven years. Seven fucking years of believing I owed Claire my life. Of tolerating her manipulations because I'd genuinely thought she'd saved me.
And all of it—every single moment—had been a lie.
"Lucas?" Victor's voice seemed to come from very far away. "Are you alright?"
I stood abruptly, the papers scattering across the floor. "I need to see her."
"Sophia? Her father said—"
"Not Sophia." My voice came out cold. Deadly. "Claire. I need to see Claire."
Victor studied me for a long moment. "She's being held at the county jail. Awaiting arraignment for attempted murder charges."
"Get me in there. I don't care what it costs. I want thirty minutes alone with her."
Victor nodded slowly. "I'll make some calls."
---
Six hours later, I sat in a private consultation room at the county jail, waiting.
The door opened. Claire was led in, wrists cuffed to a metal ring bolted to the table. When she saw me, relief flickered across her face.
"Lucas." Her voice was hoarse. "Thank God. I knew you'd come—"
"Did you do it?" I cut her off, voice flat and cold. "My family's bankruptcy. Was that your father's doing?"
The relief froze, then slowly crumbled into something wary. "What are you talking about?"
"Don't." I slammed the evidence folder onto the table, hard enough to make her flinch. "Don't you dare lie to me."
She stared at the folder, face going pale. For a long moment, she said nothing. Then, slowly, she lifted her eyes to mine.
"Yes."
The single word hung in the air like a blade.
"Why?" The word came out strangled.
Claire's expression shifted into something bitter. "Because I hated you and Sophia."
I blinked, certain I'd misheard. "What?"
"I hated watching you two together," she continued. "The way you looked at her. The way everyone talked about how perfect you were for each other. It made me sick."
My hands curled into fists. "You destroyed my family's company because you were jealous?"
"I tried to get your attention at that gala, tried to make you see me. But you barely glanced my way. You were too busy watching Sophia across the room."
"So you ruined us." The words tasted like ash. "You orchestrated my family's bankruptcy, staged that attack, manipulated me—all because I didn't pay enough attention to you?"
"I'm used to getting what I want, Lucas." Her chin lifted, defiant. "And I wanted you."
The casual cruelty made something snap inside me.
I was across the table before I'd consciously decided to move, my hands closing around her throat. She gasped, eyes going wide with shock and fear.
"You're insane," I said, voice shaking with barely controlled fury. "My father died thinking he'd failed his family. And Sophia. You pushed her. You killed our baby."
"Lucas—" She could barely get the word out.
I released her abruptly and stepped back, disgusted with myself. She collapsed forward, coughing and gasping for air.
"The rescue was staged too, wasn't it?" I demanded. "You hired those men to attack me."
Claire lifted her head, eyes watering but expression defiant. "Yes. And it worked, didn't it? You were so grateful."
I stared at this woman I'd spent seven years believing was my savior and felt nothing but revulsion.
"You're going to spend the rest of your life in prison," I said quietly. "For what you did to Sophia, to her mother, to everyone you've hurt."
"You think you'll be happy with her?" Claire's voice turned vicious. "After everything you've done? After the way you've tortured her for years? Do you really think she'll ever forgive you?"
The words hit harder than I wanted to admit.
"You're just like me, Lucas." She leaned forward as far as her restraints would allow. "We're the same—willing to do whatever it takes to get what we want. You're a coward. And she's going to realize that eventually."
I turned toward the door, done with this conversation.
"Where are you going?" Claire called after me. "You can't just leave me here!"
I paused at the threshold, looking back at her one last time. "Watch me."
"Lucas, please—" Her voice cracked. "I love you. I've always loved you. Doesn't that count for anything?"
"No," I said simply. "It doesn't."
I walked out of that room and didn't look back. Behind me, I could hear Claire's voice rising to a scream, her protests echoing down the corridor as guards moved to restrain her.
But I was already gone, my mind turning to the only thing that mattered now: getting to Sophia and somehow, impossibly, making her understand that I hadn't known. That I'd been played just as thoroughly as she had.
That everything I'd believed about the past seven years was a lie.