Chapter 236

Serena's POV

I handed Lucas my phone. He glanced at me briefly before taking it and leaving the room. When he returned a few minutes later, neither of us mentioned Rachel's call. We both chose to avoid discussing her entirely.

"Could you help me get a new phone and set up a new number?" I asked.

"Someone will deliver it shortly," he replied.

"Thank you."

"Would you like to rest a bit more?" he asked.

"Yes."

I lay back down as he left the room. The bedroom fell silent. Truth be told, I couldn't sleep - how could I after being bedridden for three days? I just needed some quiet time to think about my next moves.

I spent three more days in Lucas's private Manhattan penthouse. By then, I could finally get up, though I needed crutches to take a few tentative steps.

When I finally ventured out of the guest suite he'd arranged for me, I was struck by the sheer grandeur of his residence - a stunning five-story penthouse crowning one of the most exclusive buildings in Tribeca. The wraparound terrace offered breathtaking views of the Hudson River and the downtown skyline, with an infinity pool that seemed to merge with the horizon. The interior was a masterpiece of understated luxury - soaring ceilings, floor-to-ceiling windows, and custom furnishings that spoke of refined taste rather than ostentatious wealth.

I settled into a lounger on the terrace, soaking in the winter sun while scrolling through my phone. A week had passed, but the Thorne Foundation Gala remained the talk of Manhattan's social circles. Charity galas always generated buzz, but this year's event had become a media sensation thanks to the announcement of Lucas and Rachel's engagement, not to mention the speculation about my complicated relationship with Atticus.

I scrolled through the media's fawning coverage of Lucas and Rachel, then the endless speculation about Atticus and me. The consensus seemed to be that we were secretly dating but hadn't made it official yet.

I opened the comments section on one of the society blogs. My brow furrowed when I noticed Nina's name trending. Nina with an older gentleman? I backed out of my own coverage and searched further, finding a less prominent article with photos of her leaving an upscale restaurant arm-in-arm with the man who had bid on her dance performance that night.

Nina... had she really sunk so low?

I felt little sympathy for her downfall. It was the natural consequence of her choices. Rachel wouldn't have invested so heavily in Nina without expecting something in return. The moment Nina accepted Rachel's patronage, she'd sealed her fate. The nightmare was just beginning for her.

I set my phone down on the mahogany dining table. A familiar presence loomed behind me, accompanied by that distinctive cologne I'd grown accustomed to over the past few days. Lucas had been staying in the adjacent suite, a fact that hadn't escaped Rachel, I'm sure.

The irony wasn't lost on me. Here he was, recently engaged to Rachel Thorne, yet spending his days by my side instead of with her. I could only imagine how that reality was twisting inside Rachel's mind.

"Dinner's ready," Lucas said softly, his voice carrying that gentle tone he seemed to reserve just for me.

Our dynamic over the past few days had settled into something surprisingly comfortable-neither too distant nor too intimate. We operated like old friends, carefully maintaining appropriate boundaries. I followed him into the dining room, where the staff had set the table with the kind of understated elegance that marked old money homes in Manhattan.

His phone started ringing, an insistent melody that broke through our peaceful routine. It wasn't the first time today.

"You should answer that," I suggested, knowing full well it was Rachel. She had impeccable timing, always calling during meals. It wasn't coincidence-she was too smart for that. Rachel knew that if Lucas and I were sharing the same space, we'd likely be dining together. These calculated interruptions were her way of marking her territory.

I wanted to tell her it wasn't necessary. Whatever was happening between her and Lucas shouldn't affect me. But then again, Manhattan's elite circles were never that simple.

Lucas excused himself, moving toward the terrace doors. Even with his lowered voice, the tension in his shoulders spoke volumes. I focused on my plate, a beautifully arranged piece of herb-crusted salmon, trying not to think about their conversation. It was probably the usual check-ins between engaged couples, though something in his posture suggested otherwise.

When he returned, the silence stretched between us before he finally spoke. "I have an engagement downtown this evening. I won't be back for dinner."

"All right."

"I can have something prepared for you before I leave-"

"That won't be necessary," I cut him off, perhaps more sharply than intended. These past few days, he'd taken it upon himself to cook every meal, despite having a full kitchen staff at his disposal. "No offense, but your cooking isn't exactly five-star quality."

He held my gaze, something unreadable flickering in his eyes.

"I'd like to try something different," I added more gently, glancing around the elegant dining room. "Surely this place has other culinary talent?"

"Of course," he conceded, then added quietly, "I understand."

The silence that followed was heavy with unspoken words. I could sense his disappointment, and it stirred something uncomfortable in my chest. Yes, I was grateful for everything he'd done-saving my life wasn't a small matter. But our current situation was precarious at best. The lines between gratitude and something more dangerous were already starting to blur.

Later that afternoon, he left dressed in an impeccably tailored suit, clearly headed to some high-profile gathering. The penthouse felt different without his presence, larger and somehow emptier. I sat alone at the dining table, sampling dishes prepared by the resident chef. The food was excellent, technically perfect in every way. Yet something was missing.

That's the trouble with habits-they form before you notice, and dependency follows close behind.

As I methodically worked through my meal, my phone screen lit up with a message from Rachel. No words, just a photo: her and Lucas at what appeared to be a society event, her head resting on his shoulder, radiating the picture-perfect image of Manhattan's golden couple.

I set both my phone and fork down, appetite suddenly gone.

"Ms. Sinclair, is everything not to your liking?" the chef asked, concern evident in his voice.

"The food is wonderful," I assured him with a practiced smile. "I'm just not feeling well." It wasn't a lie, exactly. The twisting sensation in my stomach was real enough, even if its cause had nothing to do with the food.

"Should I call for Dr. Mitchell to check on you?"

"That won't be necessary." The medical team hadn't stayed at the penthouse since my vital signs stabilized. Only my limited mobility remained an issue.

"Perhaps-"

"Please, don't worry about me," I said, rising carefully with my cane. "Carry on with your evening."

I made my way toward the terrace, the Manhattan skyline glittering beyond the glass doors. It's fascinating how we can fool everyone around us while failing miserably at deceiving ourselves.

My phone rang, breaking through my melancholy. Looking at the caller ID, I took a deep breath and painted on a smile that would carry through my voice.