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?

1/3

11:04 am

Chapter 368-

Tsank 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.

I thought back to that night in Paris, when I’d confronted them in the hospital room. The way Lucas had stood between us. The way he’d told me to leave,

his voice cold and final, like I was the intruder.

And I’d been stupid enough to believe his reassurances afterward. Stupid enough to think that bringing me into the office, letting me sit at Sophia’s old

desk, meant I’d won.

But I hadn’t won anything.

I was just the respectable choice. The Vanderbilt bride who looked good in photos and came with the right connections.

Sophia was the one he couldn’t let go.

I wanted to scream again. To tear apart the entire apartment until there was nothing left but rubble. But instead, I sat very still and let the cold, sharp

clarity settle over me.

Because rage was useless. Rage made you sloppy.

What I needed now was strategy.

I couldn’t go to Lucas and throw this in his face. If I did, I’d look hysterical. Jealous. Out of control. And Lucas Reynolds didn’t respect women who lost

control–he discarded them.

No. If I confronted him now, he’d just tighten his grip on both of us. Keep Sophia hidden even more carefully. Maybe even cancel the engagement that I was

so proud of.

I needed leverage. Something that would hurt him the way this hurt me.

And then it came to me.

Sophia’s parents.

I stood abruptly, my heels crunching over broken glass as I crossed to my laptop.

If I wanted to, I could make them disappear. But this required careful long–term planning.

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,

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify