He tilted the umbrella toward me, eyes widening. "I can't believe it's really you! Where's your ride?"
I swiped the rain from my face, forcing a smile. "Had a driver, but he broke down halfway. Calling an Uber."
Joe's brow furrowed, worry flooding his eyes. "The sanatorium's too far out. No driver's taking rides in this storm."
"Maybe one will," I said, clinging to hope. "I can wait."
"And if no one shows? How long are you planning to stand here?"
My throat closed.
"Ella. I've known you three years—since your first day as a care aide. You've always been like this. Never want to trouble anyone." Joe sighed, his tone carrying gentle reproach. "But in weather this brutal, you should have your husband pick you up. Rockefeller Manor isn't far from here."
I knew. That's why Maya was at Saint Heart Sanatorium.
But...
"Lucas won't come."
The words slipped out before I could think. The next second I realized what I'd exposed.
Joe said nothing. He stared at me through the rain, those warm eyes filling with pity I couldn't bear—and something else I couldn't read. I turned away, dodging his gaze in humiliation.
"If he doesn't cherish you, why did he marry you?"
I bit my lip. Joe's heartbroken question cut deeper than any harsh judgment.
Why had I married Lucas? Because it was an arranged marriage with no choice involved.
Two years ago, I was just a care aide at Saint Heart Sanatorium. During a hostage situation targeting old Mr. Rockefeller, everyone ran screaming. Only I stood in front of old Mr. Rockefeller's wheelchair—his legs were paralyzed. Not because of some grand sacrifice. My meager professional integrity as a care aide kicked in, that's all.
If Mr. Rockefeller's grandson hadn't shown up with security, a bullet would've blown through my skull.
After it ended, Mr. Rockefeller held my hand and called me the kindest girl he'd ever met. Then he asked if I'd marry his grandson, Lucas Rockefeller.
God! It was the most absurd joke I'd ever heard.
Lucas Rockefeller. One of Manhattan's most powerful men. The one-night stand of every socialite's dreams. The first time he visited his grandfather at the sanatorium, half the girls there switched their crush to him. Me included. So when Lucas went along with his grandfather's proposal and offered to cover all of Maya's medical expenses if I married him—
I sold myself without hesitation. I had no choice. Maya's crushing medical debt was driving us insane.
At first, I held a secret thread of hope for this marriage. But Lucas quickly showed me through his actions that to him, this marriage was just a way to appease his grandfather. He wanted Mr. Rockefeller to stop being angry with him, to return to the family manor, and to protect his health. As for who his wife was, he didn't care.
"These blocks have gotten dangerous lately. Several drug-fueled robberies already."
Joe's urgent voice yanked me back to reality.
"You have to call Lucas. God, it's his duty as your husband."
Under Joe's stubborn stare, a throbbing headache hit. I knew him too well. If I didn't give in, this stubborn Good Samaritan would stand in the rain with that umbrella all night.
I stiffly pulled out my phone, typed in the number I knew by heart, but couldn't press dial.
"Are you afraid of disturbing your husband?" Joe asked, incredulous.
If only it were that simple. I smiled bitterly and hit call.
The sharp ring cut through the rain, each second of waiting stretched eternal, until the familiar message played: "Hello, this is Lucas Rockefeller. I'm unavailable right now. Please leave your name, company, and reason for calling..."
