Chapter 113

Serena's POV

I stood by the windows, watching the waves lap against the pristine shore below. Earlier call kept replaying in my mind.

"How's Eleanor doing?" I asked, trying to keep my voice casual as I turned to look at Lucas. He sat at the desk, focused on his laptop screen, probably handling another endless stream of emails.

"She needs time," he replied without looking up, his fingers continuing their steady rhythm on the keyboard.

"Time?" I couldn't keep the edge from my voice. "Lucas, she's your cousin. The one you've protected since she was little."

That finally made him pause. His grey eyes met mine, calm and steady in a way that suddenly irritated me. "Which is exactly why I need to handle this carefully."

"By taking Jace's side?" The words came out sharper, but I couldn't stop myself. "Eleanor has looked up to you her entire life. You're her perfect big brother figure who's always supposed to be on her side."

Lucas closed his laptop with deliberate care. "And because I care about her, I need to help her understand that you can't force someone's feelings."

"I can't believe you." I let out a harsh laugh. "So Jace is always right in your eyes?"

"This isn't about right or wrong, Serena." His voice remained maddeningly level. "Eleanor deserves someone who truly loves her."

"Eleanor deserves someone who won't stomp on her heart!" I snapped back. "You men are all the same. You talk about protecting people, but when it really matters, you just stand there and watch them get hurt."

Lucas stood up slowly, his tall frame backlit by the last rays of sunlight. "Sometimes protecting someone means letting them face the truth, even when it hurts."

I turned away from him, pulling out my phone to distract myself. The news headlines immediately caught my eye - apparently, the media had been busy. Article after article praised my recent business decisions while tearing into Ian's reputation. The contrast was stark: I was portrayed as the resilient heiress who had risen above betrayal, while Ian was painted as a social climber who had traded loyalty for ambition.

"The Whitmore empire's desperate attempts to salvage their heir's reputation through paid articles seem to be backfiring," one headline declared. I could almost taste the schadenfreude in the writer's tone.

"Your PR team is doing an excellent job," Lucas commented, having moved to read over my shoulder.

I locked my phone screen with more force than necessary. "Don't change the subject. We were talking about Eleanor."

"Were we?" His voice held a note of knowing that made me want to scream. "Or were we talking about how some wounds still haven't healed?"

I whirled to face him. "This has nothing to do with Ian or my past. This is about Eleanor, who's probably crying her eyes out right now while you sit here defending the man who broke her heart!"

"Eleanor's strong," Lucas said softly. "Stronger than you're giving her credit for. Just like you were."

The parallel he was drawing hung in the air between us, unwelcome and uncomfortable. I grabbed my purse from the nearby chair. "I need some air. Don't wait up."

As I walked toward the door, his voice followed me: "Running away won't help her either, Serena."

I paused with my hand on the doorknob, not turning around. "No, but at least I'm not pretending that standing still is the same thing as standing up for someone."

The door clicked shut behind me with a quiet finality, leaving Lucas alone in the room.

When I returned to the suite, my feelings have settled a lot. The room was dimly lit, with only a floor lamp casting a warm glow near where Lucas sat, his attention still focused on his laptop. I sank into the armchair across from him, pulling out my phone more out of habit than interest.

The headlines immediately caught my eye. Nina's latest media manipulation was impossible to miss - she'd managed to turn the whole situation with Ian into a narrative that painted her as an innocent bystander caught in the crossfire. The comments section was flooded with sympathetic responses. I had to admit, she'd gotten better at this game.

"Nina's quite the media strategist now," I remarked, scrolling through another artfully crafted article.

Lucas glanced up. "Does that concern you?"

"Not concern exactly." I locked eyes with him. "Let's call it... healthy vigilance."

Before he could respond, a new notification popped up. The hashtag #SerenaSinclairsDarkKnight was trending. I tapped on it, and there we were - a photograph from that night at the station. I was wearing the silver-white gown that had caught the camera flashes like starlight, while Lucas stood beside me, his face partially hidden but his presence unmistakable. Even with his features obscured, there was no disguising that aristocratic bearing.

I found myself studying his face - the sharp line of his jaw, the intensity in his grey eyes. The room suddenly felt warmer than it had a moment ago.

"Don't look at me like that," he said softly.

"Like what?"

"Like you're trying to see through me." His voice dropped lower. "It makes me want to kiss you."

My heart skipped a beat, but I managed to keep my voice steady, though it trembled slightly. "That's a rather presumptuous thing to say," I said, trying to sound annoyed.

"Is it?" He leaned forward slightly. "Your pulse says otherwise."

I realized I was unconsciously touching my neck and quickly dropped my hand, feeling my cheeks flush. "You're impossibly arrogant," I scoffed.

"Confident," he corrected, amusement dancing in his eyes. "There's a difference."

"Why did you hide your face that night?" The question slipped out before I could stop it.

Lucas closed his laptop, his full attention now on me. "Wasn't that the deal? No public acknowledgment of our relationship?"