LUCIAN”Sir!
Sir!” Isaac’s voice cut through the room as he tapped on my desk.
I blinked, shaking off the memory that had me trapped.
“Sorry,” I said, rubbing at my temple.
“I zoned out for a second.”
He didn’t look convinced.
His eyes narrowed as he pointed at the open file.
“I asked how you knew about the timing.
If I’m not mistaken that was a month after…”
”My wife’s funeral?” I finished for him, my voice clipped.
“Yes.
It was.”
Way to remind me of my fucking sins.
“I must have heard it from all the gossips flying around,” I muttered.
Isaac’s gaze lingered on me for a moment, then he nodded.
“Understood.
So… how do you want me to proceed?”
”Keep digging,” I said, leaning back, running a hand through my hair.
“Find out why the engagement was called off.
Something serious must have happened, or she would never have walked away from everything like that.
And while you’re at it, see if anyone is helping her in Brooklyn, anyone who knows she’s living under a fake identity.”
”Yes, sir.”
I held his gaze for a moment.
“Did you send the item?”
”Yes, on Thursday.” He replied.
“I’m yet to notice anything unusual.”
”And the other thing I asked for?”
”I’m still working on it,” he said.
“It’s difficult—no traces, no leads to go off of.”
”Get more funds if you need to,” I said, voice firm.
“But keep it discreet.
Nobody can know we’re looking.
Nobody can know we know anything.”
”Noted sir.”
I dismissed him, and the moment the door clicked shut behind him, I stood from my chair and walked to the window again, hands pressed against the glass, staring out at the city lights.
This whole situation was wild.
Far beyond anything I’d been expecting to hear. Find the original chapter at g.com.
I tried, futilely, to reconcile the two images of her in my head—the fierce, sharp-edged Lyra Flynn with calculating eyes, and the broken, trembling woman I’d met at the bar.
They didn’t feel like the same person.
Not really.
And then there was Corinne Sterling, the sharp-mouthed kindergarten teacher, who dresses like a nerd and somehow knows her way around toddlers and autistic children.
That version didn’t fit into the portfolio I’d just been staring at.
And don’t get me started on her provocative persona as Lux.
That’s just another impossible piece to reconcile with either of them.
It was too many versions and too many masks to take in.
I have a lot of questions with no one to answer.
Does she know I’m the man from that night at the bar?
Is she pretending not to?
If she had truly been in the corporate world, she must have known who I was from the first night at Eclipse.
Was that why she’d been so scared I’d take off her mask?
What is the truth and what is the lie with her at this point?
And the engagement with Nathan Caldwell is hard to picture.
She doesn’t exactly strike me as the kind to settle for a slimeball.
Was he even aware she was here, in Brooklyn, living as a teacher?
Was he looking for her, or did he assume she’d disappeared for good?
I exhaled slowly, rubbing at the impending headache in my temple.
Every question I had only seemed to split into two more.
I’d thought I could strip her down layer by layer, uncover the truths hidden beneath each mask, each identity.
But every time I peeled one back, it revealed another, darker, more elusive than the last and I would stop at nothing to uncover it.
Because I am a father, and I will not risk leaving my children in the care of someone so capable of deceiving thousands of people.
It was noon, and I’d already gone through more cups of coffee than I cared to count, the bitter liquid barely keeping me upright as I power-hogged my way through the endless stack of files in front of me.
Someone knocked on my door.
“Come in,” I called without looking up.
The door opened and my PA stepped inside, holding a tablet.
“Sir, the school just sent a mail.”
I peeled my eyes away from the spreadsheet in front of me.
“What for?”
”There’s a fundraising event scheduled for the guardians and sponsors this weekend.
They wanted to confirm your availability.”
”Forward it to me,” I said.
“Yes, sir.” She nodded and left, closing the door quietly behind her.
I wasn’t going.
I didn’t have the strength, nor the patience, nor a single second to spare for mingling with pretentious strangers pretending to care about the kids while judging everyone else’s life.
I buried myself back in the work.
Social obligations were a luxury I didn’t have—not with everything else circling in my head.
My last meeting ran late and by the time my driver pulled up front, she was already there with the kids, standing a little off to the side.
She was talking to another parent, wearing that soft, patient smile she always seemed to have.
I watched her from the car, eyes tracing her movements now that I knew who she really was.
It was impossible not to notice the way she never lingered with any parent or staff for more than a moment, how her fingers constantly adjusted her glasses, how she inched herself away from any small crowd as if proximity was dangerous.
Every motion was carefully done and it only drew my attention further.
I waited until the other parent had left with her daughter before stepping down from the car.
As soon as she saw me, that signature glare snapped into place across her face, and I almost smiled.
She really was putting a lot of effort into hating my guts.
“You sure took your time, Mr.
Delacroix,” she said as I approached them, voice laced with that perfect balance of sarcasm and politeness.
I cocked my head and curiously watched her for a moment, until she shifted uncomfortably under my gaze and scrunched up her nose cutely.
Fuck my life…
What exactly am I going to do with you, kitten?