Chapter 235

Serena's POV

Lucas handed me his phone and quietly left the hospital room, giving me the privacy I needed. I appreciated his thoughtfulness - it was these small gestures that made me increasingly aware of his consideration.

I dialed Atticus's number from memory, my fingers slightly trembling against the cool screen.

"Serena?" His voice carried that characteristic lilt of his, immediately recognizing me despite the unfamiliar number.

"Yes, it's me," I responded, adjusting myself against the plush hospital pillows.

"I knew you'd call once you woke up." There was a hint of amusement in his voice. "How are you being treated under Lucas Harrington's care?"

"Well enough. All limbs intact," I replied dryly, glancing down at my bandaged arm.

"Same here," he matched my tone, "Though I might be confined to bed rest for a couple of weeks."

"Sounds about right." We continued exchanging details about our respective injuries, the sterile hospital air hanging heavy between our words.

"Can you speak freely?" Atticus suddenly changed the subject, his voice dropping slightly.

"Yes," I answered without hesitation. The immediacy of my response surprised even me.

"So you do trust Harrington," he observed with a knowing undertone. The implication was clear - I felt comfortable enough to speak openly while in Lucas's territory.

I pressed my lips together, reflecting on my instinctive response. Indeed, I hadn't even considered the possibility of Lucas monitoring my calls.

"To be fair, I don't think Harrington would stoop to such tactics either," Atticus conceded, seeming unbothered by the whole thing.

"Get to the point," I prompted, steering us back to more pressing matters.

"That night we barely escaped, and the Thornes are furious. With you and Lucas spending so much time together now, Rachel's becoming increasingly unstable. You need to be careful - I'm concerned she might do something rash."

"More rash than that night?" I couldn't help the sarcasm that crept into my voice.

"That night was a calculated move by Silas and his family. What I'm talking about is Rachel potentially acting alone, driven by emotion rather than strategy."

"Mm." I hummed in acknowledgment. I'd already anticipated this possibility. After all, Lucas had abandoned Rachel at the gala to save me, and he'd barely left my side since. No woman would take that kind of rejection lightly.

"After this incident, my grandfather will be taking action against Silas," Atticus continued frankly. "What Silas did that night effectively destroyed any possibility of reconciliation between our families. I apologize that you nearly lost your life in the process. I'll be honest - I suspected Silas might try something against me, but from a strategic standpoint, I couldn't refuse your visit to Portland. Between us, my family has been waiting for Silas to show his true colors."

"I understand," I replied evenly. While emotionally jarring, my rational side recognized the reality of the situation. My relationship with Atticus needed to remain uncomplicated, free from unnecessary entanglements.

"Thank you," he said with unexpected gravity.

"For what?"

"You risked your life to save me that night, even though Lucas was the one who executed the plan."

"I couldn't have just left you there to die. Anyone would have done the same. Besides, our fates are linked now - if something had happened to you, I wouldn't be in a much better position," I explained pragmatically.

"Regardless, I was the beneficiary," he insisted. "I owe you one."

While I hadn't expected any repayment, I saw no reason to refuse an advantageous position.

"Tell me something..." he ventured, "do you trust me more now? After Lucas risked everything to save you, are you still keeping him at arm's length?"

"Are you testing me?" I raised an eyebrow, though he couldn't see it. I understood his real question - whether I would remain committed to our alliance. Lucas's position in all of this was ambiguous, neither friend nor foe. I couldn't figure him out, and I knew Atticus couldn't either. Lucas was too clever, maintaining a position of strategic ambiguity that protected him from becoming anyone's primary target.

"Not at all," he denied. "You're the most trustworthy person in my life right now. You saved my life - and while I may be driven by ambition, I never forget my debts."

I smiled faintly at his self-congratulatory tone.

"Yes, I trust you more," I admitted.

"Still the rational one," he chuckled. "Most women would have fallen head over heels for Lucas by now. Imagine if he knew that after risking his life to save you, he still hasn't earned your trust. It would break his heart, wouldn't it?"

I answered in slince.

"Lucas and I were actually classmates at Harvard," Atticus switched the converssation to ease the embarrassment, his voice carrying that characteristic blend of aristocratic polish and casual frankness, "When you strip away the family names and fortunes, we were just two students there. And in that level playing field..." He paused, letting out a small laugh. "Well, let's just say I was barely a blip on anyone's radar compared to him."

I frowned, adjusting the silk pillows behind me. This was the first I'd heard of their shared college years. The thought of Lucas in his younger days, before all the responsibilities of running Harrington International, sparked my curiosity.

Atticus continued, warming to his theme. "Lucas was practically legendary on campus. Top of his class in Economics, captain of the rowing team, and of course, that classic Harrington charm. The number of sorority girls who..." He trailed off meaningfully.

"Weren't you famously uninterested in sorority girls?" I interrupted, unable to hide my amusement.

"Doesn't mean I couldn't appreciate the competition," he replied with mock seriousness. "Or feel thoroughly overshadowed by it."

I couldn't help but laugh at his theatrical delivery, wincing slightly as the movement pulled at my stitches.

"And now," he added, his tone lighter, "thanks to you, I finally feel like I've got one up on the great Lucas Harrington. My ego is thoroughly restored."

"I can't believe you're this petty," I said, shaking my head even though he couldn't see me. "Is this how all you Ivy League boys think?"

Suddenly, his voice took on a more serious note. "You know, I could arrange to have you transferred. Get you out of there if you wanted."

The unexpected offer caught me off guard, and I found myself staring at the bouquets of white roses and hydrangeas that filled the room.

Noting my hesitation, he asked softly, "Or are you exactly where you want to be?"

"It's not that," I said, watching a nurse pass by in the hallway through the frosted glass door. "I'm just not cleared to be moved yet. The doctors are still monitoring my condition."

"I was mostly joking anyway," he admitted. "Even if I wanted to, I doubt I could find out which hospital you're in. Lucas has made sure of that. And truthfully? You're probably safest wherever he's arranged for you to be. Take the time to rest and recover properly."

His words stirred something in my chest - a mixture of gratitude and something else I wasn't quite ready to name.

The buzz of an incoming call interrupted my thoughts. "I should go," I said, glancing at my phone screen. "Rachel's calling Lucas."

"Before you do," Atticus added quickly, "tell Lucas to get you a new phone and restore your old number. You need to stay connected."

"I know, I will," I assured him before ending the call.

"Lucas!" I called out toward the door, my voice echoing slightly in the spacious room.

The door opened immediately, revealing Lucas standing there in his perfectly tailored suit, his presence filling the doorframe. I knew he hadn't been eavesdropping on my conversation with Atticus - that wasn't his style. Instead, he'd simply been keeping watch, ensuring my safety while giving me privacy.

"Rachel's trying to reach you," I said, watching as he pulled out his phone to check the missed call.