Please Come Back, My Love novel Chapter 370

Chapter 370

Lucas’s POV

The quarterly board meeting had run long nearly four hours of McKinsey consultants presenting expansion strategies that would have bored me to tears if I’d had the capacity to feel anything beyond the constant, gnawing awareness of Sophia confined in Westchester, carrying my child, hating me with every

breath she took.

I’d stopped pretending the situation was sustainable. Stopped lying to myself that I could manage Claire’s expectations while keeping Sophia and the baby separate and safe.

The whole thing was a fucking powder keg, and Friday’s planned meeting between the two women was going to be the match.

But I had no choice. Claire had made it clear she expected to be involved in “arrangements” for the child. And Sophia—Christ, Sophia had actually told me no when I’d informed her of the meeting. One word, transmitted through a screen, that had hit me like a physical blow.

Because she was right to refuse. Right to fight back against this nightmare I’d created. Right to hate me for every single choice I’d made that had led us to this point.

But I couldn’t let her refuse. Couldn’t allow her even that small rebellion, because the moment I showed weakness, the moment I gave her an inch of autonomy, the entire carefully balanced structure would collapse.

So I’d overridden her. Told her to be ready Friday at seven. Watched the read receipt confirm she’d seen the message and known, with sick certainty, that she was probably crying. Or raging. Or sitting in numb silence while her body continued the biological process I’d forced on her.

My phone buzzed. Bob, my head of security.

“Sir, we have a situation at the Greenwich safe house.”

I straightened in my chair, every muscle tensing. “What kind of situation?”

“Medical emergency. The mother–Rosa Cruz. Severe asthma attack, unresponsive. Ambulance is en route but-” He paused, and I heard the hesitation in his voice. ‘Sir, Mr. Cruz is insisting we let him go with her to the hospital. He’s threatening to call the police if we don’t.”

Fuck. “Where’s Sophia?”

‘Still at the Westchester estate. She hasn’t been informed yet.”

“Keep it that way.” I was already standing, grabbing my jacket. “I’m, twenty minutes out. Tell the guards to let Miguel go with his wife but have two men follow in a separate vehicle. Plain clothes, keep it discreet. And Bob-”

I gunned the engine of my Bentley and pulled into traffic, my jaw clenched. If Rosa Cruz died, Sophia would never forgive me. Would never believe I hadn’t somehow caused it, hadn’t used her mother as leverage in some sick power play.

“Talk to me.”

“Paramedics are transporting now. New York–Presbyterian, Manhattan campus. They’re saying possible hypoxic brain injury, won’t know the extent until they

run tests.” He paused. “Sir, there’s something else.”

“What?”

“Miguel Cruz is claiming his wife saw something on her phone right before the attack. A video. He says she screamed and then couldn’t breathe.”

Ice flooded my veins. “What kind of video?”

“He doesn’t know. She dropped the phone when she collapsed. We have it now, but it’s password–protected.”

“Break the password, I don’t care what it takes.” I swerved around a slow–moving taxi, earning an angry horn blast. “And pull the phone records. I want to know where that video came from.”