Chapter 81

Serena's POV

I stand in my doorway, watching Lucas straighten his suit jacket. The hallway's soft lighting casts gentle shadows across his features, and neither of us seems eager to end the evening.

"Text me when you get home," I say, then immediately feel self-conscious about how domestic that sounds.

Lucas's lips curve into that subtle smile I'm still getting used to. "Worried I'll get lost?"

"Don't be silly." I try to sound stern, but can't help matching his smile. "I just..." My voice trails off, uncertain how to explain this new protective instinct.

"Get some rest, Serena." His voice has that warm, low quality that makes my pulse quicken.

"You too."

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

We stand there, caught in this gentle stalemate. I'm holding the door handle but not closing it; he's half-turned to leave but hasn't taken a step. The silence between us feels charged with everything we're not quite saying.

"You should go in," he says softly.

"You should start walking," I counter.

His quiet laugh breaks the tension. "We're not very good at this, are we?"

I'm about to agree when he moves - so smooth and sudden that I barely register it happening. One moment he's standing at a respectable distance, the next he's close enough that I catch the subtle scent of his cologne. My breath catches as he leans in, and then I feel the gentle press of his lips against my forehead.

"Boyfriend privileges," he murmurs against my skin before pulling back.

My face floods with heat. I'm frozen, heart thundering in my chest, as he steps away with that same quiet confidence he always carries.

"Now I'll go," he says, and this time he actually starts walking toward the elevator.

I watch him until he disappears around the corner, my hand unconsciously rising to touch my forehead. Only when I hear the elevator doors slide shut do I finally step back into my apartment and close the door, leaning against it with a shaky breath.

In the sudden quiet of my home, I can't stop the smile spreading across my face. It feels ridiculous to be this affected by such a simple gesture, but coming from Lucas - who always moves with such deliberate intent - it feels monumental.

I press my cool hands against my warm cheeks, trying to calm my racing heart.

Half hours later, my phone buzzes with a text. It's from Lucas: "Home safe. Sweet dreams, Serena."

I bite my lip, typing back a quick "Goodnight" before I can overthink it. As I get ready for bed, I catch myself touching my forehead again and again, remembering the gentle pressure of his lips.

At my office, I felt my phone buzz and couldn't help but smile at Lucas's message: "Good morning, girlfriend."

My fingers hovered over the screen, warmth spreading through my chest at this simple sign of affection. After everything we'd been through, these quiet moments of connection felt precious. I was about to reply when my office phone rang.

"Miss Sinclair," my secretary's voice came through, with a hint of concern. "Your grandmother Mrs. Beatrice Sinclair is here with your father and Mrs. Angela Sinclair."

I took a deep breath, straightening my blazer as I stood. "Send them in." My voice remained steady.

They filed in like a carefully choreographed parade - Grandmother Beatrice leading with her handbag clutched close, Lawrence following with his perpetually disappointed expression, and Angela trailing behind with her practiced look of concern. The morning light caught the diamond brooch at Grandmother's throat, sending prisms dancing across the walls.

"Serena." Grandmother's voice wavered slightly - a calculated tremor. "That day... I was wrong. I let my emotions get the better of me." She took a step forward, her hand extended toward me.

I remained behind my desk, maintaining the physical barrier between us. I turned down her offer, and she awkwardly pulled her hand back, her face going pale. "You came all this way to say that?" My tone was cool.

"Don't be like this," Lawrence interjected, his voice carrying that familiar note of disapproval. "We're family."

"Family." The word tasted bitter. "Is that what we were when Grandmother was being charged?"

Grandmother's expression flickered - a crack in her perfectly composed facade. She quickly reached for the luxury shopping bag she'd brought, pulling out an elegantly wrapped box. "I brought you something special, from that boutique in Paris you always loved..."

"I'm not interested in gifts." I kept my voice level, watching as her fingers tightened around the package's handles. "What I want is an acknowledgment of what really happened that day."

"What more do you want?" Angela stepped forward, her sympathy act firmly in place. "Your grandmother's apologizing. Would you have her get on her knees at her age?"

I noticed the slight tremor in Grandmother's hand, the way Lawrence shifted his weight uncomfortably. They'd expected this to be simple - a quick apology, an expensive peace offering, and business as usual.

"No one needs to kneel," I said finally, my voice softening just enough to seem reasonable. "But I won't pretend everything is fine just because you brought me a gift."

Grandmother's eyes flashed with familiar anger before she caught herself. She set the gift bag on my desk with deliberate care. "We're trying to make peace, Serena. Don't make this more difficult than it needs to be."

I remained standing, my posture straight. "I appreciate you coming here. But if that's all, I have a meeting scheduled."

I knew exactly what the Sinclairs were thinking. Their greatest fear was scandal - anything that might tarnish the precious family name. This apology was just a temporary measure. Once the dust settled, they'd come after me even harder than before.

"Do you really think a simple apology is enough for that slap, Grandmother?" I asked, watching her carefully.

Her jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. She'd clearly hoped I would be more easily placated. "What would it take for you to forgive me, then?" Her voice strained with forced patience, and I could practically see the calculations running behind her eyes.

"Would you let me slap you back?" she asked, feigning sincerity with well-practiced concern.