Chapter 32
Emily Windsor's POV
The warmth and understanding I'd felt just moments ago evaporated in an instant, leaving me cold.
Luke hadn't pushed her away.
My gaze froze on him as I watched the woman drape herself around his neck, practically hanging off him. He only frowned slightly, allowing her brazen intimacy.
It was a kind of indulgent helplessness I'd never seen in him before.
"And who's this?" the woman's voice rang out again, her attention finally shifting from Luke to me.
Those bright eyes were filled with undisguised scrutiny and hostility, as if assessing an object that had no business being here.
I straightened my spine, forcing down the bitter taste rising in my throat, my face settling into the calm composure I'd perfected as a lawyer.
Just as I thought Luke wouldn't bother explaining, he finally reached out and pulled the woman off him—not roughly, but with a certain emotional detachment. His voice was low as he introduced her. "My sister, Lily Victor. She just got back from Europe."
Sister?
I blinked, caught off guard. Something inside me loosened unexpectedly.
Oh. His sister.
"Hello," I said, suppressing the faint embarrassment creeping up my chest, giving her a polite nod.
Lily barely glanced at me, her eyelids lifting lazily. She let out a dismissive hum through her nose, then immediately turned back to Luke, her arm winding around him again. Her tone turned coquettish. "Luke, I sent you so many messages and you didn't reply to a single one. I was starting to think you didn't want me around anymore."
As she spoke, her eyes hooked onto me with a pointed glance.
I understood immediately where her hostility came from.
"I still have some things to take care of," I said, unwilling to stand there like an awkward decoration for her to pick apart. "You two catch up. I'll head upstairs."
I turned to leave, my steps measured and calm.
As I passed them, I could feel Lily's gaze trailing me like a knife blade.
"Wait. I still need to talk to you."
Luke's voice came from behind me.
I paused mid-step but didn't turn around.
His sudden intervention felt almost like a declaration to Lily—asserting my place here.
My heart stirred faintly, but before I could process it, Lily's voice cut through the air, the sweetness gone. "Luke! I just got back. I have so much to tell you."
She paused, then turned her aim squarely on me. "I need to talk to my brother. It's not exactly appropriate with outsiders around, is it?"
The words were blunt, edged with dismissal.
I finally turned back, meeting her gaze with steady composure.
Luke's expression darkened instantly, the air around him growing heavy. Those ice-blue eyes flashed with something cold and sharp, and he opened his mouth to speak—but I cut him off first.
"You two talk," I said, nodding slightly toward him. "I'm tired anyway."
I didn't want to put him in an awkward position. And I certainly didn't want to get dragged into some petty territorial spat.
Whatever he thought of me, in Lily's eyes, I would always be an "outsider."
Rather than force the issue, I'd step back and keep my dignity intact.
I didn't wait to see Luke's reaction. I followed the butler, who'd appeared at the sound of voices, and headed upstairs.
Behind me, I could faintly hear Lily's smug voice drifting up. "Luke, who is she anyway? Why would you bring some random woman back to the estate? Don't you realize—"
The heavy door cut off the rest.
The butler escorted me to my room and bowed politely before retreating.
I didn't turn on the lights. Instead, I walked barefoot to the window and stared down at the garden below, where the lights still blazed brightly. I stood there until the sports car carrying Lily roared off into the night, its engine tearing through the silence.
The fragile understanding we'd built in the cemetery last night felt much thinner now.
The next morning, I didn't bother saying goodbye to anyone. I headed straight downstairs.
Luke was sitting in the dining room, casually flipping through the morning paper. When he saw me, he glanced up, those ice-blue eyes as inscrutable as ever.
"Not sleeping in?"
"No," I replied, pulling out a chair but not sitting down. "I have something to take care of at the firm. I need to head back."
He set the paper down, his gaze settling on me with a trace of scrutiny. "Because of Lily?"
"She has nothing to do with it." My answer came too quickly, my tone so even it sounded hollow even to me. "I have my own work. My own life, Mr. Reed."
I deliberately returned to the formal address, reestablishing distance.
He studied me for a few seconds, then nodded without pressing further. "I'll have the driver take you."
I didn't refuse. After breakfast, I left.
Returning to the firm after so long away, I breathed in the familiar scent of coffee and paper. The tension I'd carried through the night finally began to ease.
This was my battlefield. My territory.
Carl Ward spotted me immediately and practically rushed over, his face lighting up with an ingratiating smile. "Miss Windsor! You're finally back! The Victor case was brilliant—everyone in New York legal circles knows your name now!"
He ushered me into his office, personally brewing me tea with an eagerness that made me uncomfortable.
After the pleasantries, he got to the point. He pulled a thick file from his drawer and slid it across the desk toward me.
"Emily, I know you just wrapped up a major case and you deserve a break. But we have something here that—well, frankly, you're the only one in this firm qualified to handle it."
I lowered my gaze to the document. The bold text on the cover jumped out at me.
[Preston District Residents v. Kingsley Chemical Group: Class Action Lawsuit for Illegal Pollution]
Preston District—one of New York's most notorious low-income neighborhoods.
Kingsley Chemical Group—an industrial giant that had dominated the East Coast for decades.
The case had been all over the news recently. Reports claimed that cancer rates in Preston District had skyrocketed to seven times the city average over the past five years—and the finger pointed squarely at the Kingsley Chemical Plant upstream, which had been dumping industrial waste into the water for years.
This was a classic David-versus-Goliath public interest case.
"Mr. Ward," I said, flipping through the file, my voice calm, "you know this case is nearly impossible to win. The plaintiffs are low-income residents who can't afford high legal fees. The defense has the best legal team money can buy."
"Exactly why you're the perfect fit." Carl adjusted his glasses, leaning forward. "You're the rising star of the legal world now—a symbol of justice and professionalism. If you take this public interest case, it'll be a massive boost for your reputation. For the firm's reputation."
I held back a bitter laugh.
They wanted to use my newfound fame to score PR points for the firm.
Whether we won or lost didn't matter to them at all.
"I need time to think about it," I said, closing the file.
"Come on, Emily," Carl said, his tone turning urgent. "This case has huge visibility. It's a win-win for you—and, well… think of it as doing something good for those poor people."