Chapter 44 44. She's Just A Child
Jessica's POV
Lily's small body trembled in my arms as she sobbed, the perfect picture of innocence. Her tears streaked my blouse while Lucien's patience frayed in front of us. His jaw ticked, hands flexing at his sides like he was seconds away from snapping.
"Lily," he said sharply. "Enough."
I drew her closer before he could say more, my voice breaking just enough. "She's just a child, Lucien."
He looked ready to argue, then stopped when Lily's wail grew louder.
"Daddy, why don't you love me?" she whimpered, clutching my neck.
That 'Daddy' hung thick between us. I caught it in his eyes, that flicker of restraint, the irritation. Perfect.
I kissed Lily's hair and whispered, "It's okay, baby. Mommy's got you." Then, to him, "I'm sorry, Lucien. She's confused. It's been a rough night."
His face was a mask of strained composure. He was holding back, hard. I hid my smile and carried Lily out, closing the door before he saw it.
Down the hall, she sniffled again. I brushed her hair back.
"You did well, sweetheart."
I tried a few doors until one opened. The faint scent of oud hit me, warm and dark. Lucien's scent. My pulse jumped.
A white shirt lay folded beside a navy jacket on the bed. His watch rested on the nightstand. The sheets were rumpled like he'd slept here recently.
So, he left his room for her. I could work with that.
I set Lily down and crouched to her level. "You did such a good job, baby."
She sniffled. "He was mean."
"I know. Because she's in the way." I tucked a curl behind her ear. "You want Lucien to be your daddy, right? Your real daddy?"
Lily nodded.
"Then we need to help him see that we belong here, not her." I smiled. "Here's what you do. When you see Camila alone, you cry. Tell her you miss your daddy. Make her feel bad. And when they're together, interrupt. Ask Daddy questions only a father should answer. Can you do that?"
"What kind of questions?"
"Ask why he left you. Ask if he loves you more than Camila. Ask him to tuck you in instead of her." I stroked her cheek. "Can you be my brave girl?"
"Yes, Mommy." She grinned, proud.
I pulled her close and kissed her forehead. "That's my smart girl."
I barely slept throughout the night. The smell of him clung to everything, teasing me, reminding me how close I'd once been. He'd kissed me once, three years ago, drunk at my launch show. I'd built my entire world around that single moment.
By morning, Lily was still asleep when I slipped out of bed. I wore one of Lucien's shirts over my jeans, hair messy, feet bare. His shirt looked better on me anyway.
Voices floated from downstairs as I descended. The low rumble of Lucien's voice, the softer one that didn't belong. Camila.
"Maya's been at the building every day," Lucien was saying. "Security says she arrives at nine and doesn't leave until evening."
"I don't want to see her."
"I don't like her either," he said, "but she seems... concerned. What happened between you two?"
'Hmm... Maya.'
I crept closer then froze.
Lucien stood behind Camila, arms wrapped around her waist, chin resting on her shoulder. His hands were spread across her stomach like she was something fragile he couldn't risk breaking.
He looked at her like she was oxygen.
Not even once had he looked at me that way.
He'd lifted me when no one else would, believed in me, invested in me. I thought that meant something.
But he wanted her.
What had she done to deserve him?
A viral fake relationship, a tragic past?
I was the one who belonged beside him. I had built something. I had earned it. I am more refined and successful enough. When he told me their relationship was fake, I'd felt relief. But now... now he held her like she was his universe.
My hands curled into fists. I cleared my throat, stepping into view.
"Morning," I said brightly.
Lucien's eyes dropped to the shirt I wore and his jaw tensed. Camila turned too, smile faltering.
"I'm heading out," I said before either could speak. "Need to grab a few things for Lily and me."
Lucien opened his mouth, but I waved it off. "Don't worry, I won't be long."
Once I reached the lobby, I pushed through the doors into the sunlight, scanning the street.
A woman stood by the entrance, pacing near the entrance with nervous energy. Warm brown skin, brown curls pulled into a messy bun, eyes red-rimmed like she'd been crying-must be Maya.
I plastered on my best sympathetic smile and stepped out.
"Hi, Maya, right?"
She turned, startled. "Yes. Who are you?"
"I'm one of Camila's caregivers," the lie rolled smooth off my tongue. "She asked me to speak with you."
Hope lit Maya's face. "She did?"
"She wanted me to tell you..." I softened my voice, tone apologetic. "She doesn't want you coming here anymore. She's trying to move forward, and seeing you makes that difficult. She asked that you respect her wishes and stay away."
The light drained from Maya's face. "But I just want to know if she's okay-"
"She's wonderful. Healthy, happy, and focused. She just doesn't want to be tied to whatever happened between you two. It could hurt her reputation now that she's with Lucien."
Maya's eyes brimmed with tears. "I'd never hurt her reputation. Her mother came looking for her too. She looked really sick this time. Camila should at least know-"
"This time?"
"Clara's faked illness before to manipulate her, but this time..." Maya shook her head. "Just tell her her mother needs her. Please."
She turned and walked away, shoulders hunched.
I watched her go, mind spinning.
A mother who fakes illness. A fractured friendship. Interesting.
The moment she disappeared around the corner, I pulled out my phone. "I need a private investigator," I said when the line picked up. "Today."
After shopping, I returned to find three identical black cars parked in the underground garage. Sleek and expensive. The kind that screamed power.
The middle one's plate read: DON HAYES.
My pulse stuttered. The cars began to roll toward the exit. I didn't think. I ran, stepping in front of the lead car.
It stopped. The driver's window rolled down, revealing a stone-faced man in a black suit.
"Move."
"I need to speak with Mr. Hayes." My voice shook. "Please."
The second car's rear window descended, and I met eyes so cold they could freeze blood.
Don Hayes looked like Lucien in thirty years, same sharp features, same commanding presence. But where Lucien had warmth buried beneath ice, Don had only frost.
"You have thirty seconds," he said.
I stepped closer. "Mr. Hayes, I'm Jessica Bloom. I-"
"I know who you are." His gaze swept over me, flat. "You run a mediocre fashion line my son pities enough to fund."
I swallowed the sting. "I've been staying at the penthouse. With Lucien and... Camila."
"And?"
"She's not right for him."
"Why do you think I care about your opinion?"
"Because you look like a man who cares about legacy." I lifted my chin. "Camila makes him weak. She's from nothing. She'll drag him down."
"And you offer what?"
"I offer someone who understands business. Someone who won't make him lose focus. I could be what he needs. What you need."
"You could be," Don said slowly, a cruel smile touching his mouth. "But you're not. You're desperate. Desperate women make useful tools, not partners."
The words cut deep. My throat tightened. I felt real tears threaten to well.
"Please," I whispered. "I've built everything trying to be worthy of him. I've waited five years."
"Then you're a fool."
Something in me cracked. I dropped to my knees on the cold concrete. "I'm begging you. Give me a chance. I'll do whatever you want. Just-please."
The silence stretched. Then Don laughed, low and dark.
"Get in."