Please Come Back, My Love novel Chapter 368

Chapter 368

Claire’s POV

Two days later, I sat in the living room of my Tribeca penthouse, staring at the manila envelope Damien had just couriered over.

The timestamp on his email read 9:47 AM, October 15th. My hands were steady as 1 broke the seal, but my heart was already racing.

I pulled out the surveillance photos first.

And that’s when everything shattered.

The first image showed the Westchester estate in full daylight–sprawling, pristine, with a goddamn rose garden in the back. The second showed Sophia stepping out onto a terrace, wearing a loose cashmere sweater that did nothing to hide the curve of her belly. The third…

The third was a close–up. Her hand resting on her stomach. Her face turned toward the sun. And she looked peaceful. Protected. Cared for.

The crystal tumbler I’d been holding slipped from my fingers and shattered against the marble floor.

“No,” whispered. Then louder: “No.”

I grabbed the report with shaking hands and scanned the details:

Subject has been residing at property for approximately one week. Daily grocery deliveries include prenatal vitamins, organic produce, specialty teas. Dr.Shaw (OB/ GYN) has already visited since her arrival, most recently yesterday afternoon.

He’d lied. Not just once. Not just to spare my feelings.

He’d looked at me across that restaurant table, held my hand, and fed me a story about Sophia being gone while he had her tucked away in a fucking mansion like some precious thing he needed to keep safe.

The rage that tore through me was white–hot and blinding.

I swept my arm across the coffee table. The vase of orchids-$800, imported from Thailand–crashed to the floor. Water spread across the white rug like a stain.

I grabbed a ceramic sculpture next, one of those abstract pieces my interior designer had insisted was “investment art, and hued it at the wall.

It exploded on impact.

‘Fuck!” I screamed into the empty apartment. ‘Fuck you,

Lucas!”

But even as the words left my mouth, I knew they weren’t enough. Nothing I could say or break would touch the magnitude of this betrayal.

Because it wasn’t just that he’d lied. It was what the lie revealed.

He’d protected her. Made sure she was comfortable. Safe. Sent a private doctor to check on her twice in three days.

When had Lucas Reynolds ever cared that much about anything or anyone other than his own centrel?

T sank onto the couch, my chest beaving, and forced myself to look at the rest of the photos. Sophia reading on a porch swing. Sophia walking through the garden with a mug of tea. Sophia standing at a window, her silhouette backlit by soft afternoon light.

She looked like a woman who’d beentescued. Not purrished.

And that’s when the full weight of it hit me.

He still loves her.

Maybe he’d never stopped. Maybe that’s why he’d been so quick to handle things–not to erase the problem, but to hide it somewhere I couldn’t reach.

Somewhere she would be safe from me.

It would break Sophia. And through her, it would break him.

I leaned back in my chair, my pulse finally slowing. The apartment was a disaster–shattered glass, overturned furniture, water seeping into expensive fabric,

But my mind was clear now. Focused.

I picked up my phone and opened a new message to Damien:

[I need all the information about Sophia’s parents.]

His reply came within seconds:

[Understood.]

I thought about the way Lucas had kissed my cheek instead of my mouth. The way he’d deflected every question about Sophia. The way he was probably sitting in his office right now, thinking about her–about whether she was eating enough, whether the baby was okay, whether she needed anything.

While I sat here surrounded by broken things, just another piece of his perfectly managed life.

I set the phone down and walked to the window, looking out over the city. Somewhere out there, Sophia Cruz was living in her gilded cage, probably thinking she was safe. Probably thinking Lucas would protect her.

I turned away from the window and surveyed the wreckage of my living room. Tomorrow, I’d have someone come clean it up. Make it look like nothing had happened.

“Sophia,” I said softly to the empty room, my voice steady now. Calm. “I really don’t know what’s so special about you. Why Lucas can’t seem to let you go.”

I picked up one of the surveillance photos–the one where she looked so goddamn serene–and ran my thumb across her face.

“But don’t worry,” I continued, my smile widening. “In the end, the only person standing beside him will be me.”