I said, "When the baby's discharged, we'll go home to the manor together."
He looked up, face streaked with tears, but light in his eyes.
"Yes," he said. "Let's go home."
On the way back to the room, Lucas's steps grew lighter. We lingered together in the afternoon sunlight, our hands clasped tight. I felt peace and joy I'd never experienced before.
"What happened to Vivian?" I asked.
"She's been charged," he paused, but answered seriously. "Assault with intent to harm. Her lawyer wanted bail, but the judge denied it. She's in jail now, awaiting trial."
"How long will she get?"
"At least five years," he said. "If the prosecution can prove premeditation, could be longer."
I nodded, saying nothing more.
Vivian's madness destroyed her. She could have had a decent future—a good job, a real relationship. But she chose another path. A path to destruction.
"I don't hate her," I said.
Lucas stopped and looked at me.
"I just think it's sad," I continued. "She could have gotten so much through her own abilities. But she spent all her energy on a man who never belonged to her."
Lucas crouched down to eye level with me, his lips nearly touching my face.
"I'll never do anything again that could cause you to misunderstand." His warm breath hit my face, every pore expanding. "And I hope you'll always tell me what you're thinking. Everyone needs a mirror to reflect the mistakes they make unconsciously. We're each other's mirrors."
I smiled and kissed him softly.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Lucas
The wheels crunched over the manor's drive, plane trees slicing the sky on either side. I eased off the gas, crawling slowly, not my usual style. Ella rode shotgun, staring out the window, lost in heavy thoughts. The manor loomed, pulling her back again. She sat ramrod straight, hands folded over her cashmere coat on her lap. I caught her index finger tapping fast on the fabric, her tell for anxiety.
I slammed the brakes. The car jerked to a stop midway. Silence hit, thick enough to hear a pin drop, just our breaths tangling.
"Ella," I said her name, dead serious.
She snapped out of it, turning with dazed eyes.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"If you don't want to go back to Rockefeller Manor to see Grandfather, we'll turn around right now." I locked eyes, no bullshit. "I'm serious. Say the word, and we're gone. Back to the Rochester apartment, or straight to the hospital to watch over our son. One word, and I'll take you."
Ella stared at me a long time, her gaze probing, unreadable.
"Lucas," she said softly, "Mr. Rockefeller is waiting for us."
"I can visit him alone." The family doctor's frantic call this morning said Grandfather collapsed, wanted to see me and Ella. We rushed back in a panic. But as we drove toward the manor, doubt crept in. I'd forgotten how the place held bad memories for her because of me. I wasn't sure if it'd stir up resentment again.
She reached out, fingers brushing my hand lightly, like a feather. But it made my heart skip.
"Take me home," she said.
I grabbed her hand. Her fingers felt cold, small in my palm.
