TERESA’S P.O.V.
It had to be Lucian. I couldn’t think of anyone else who despised as much as he did. And besides, he was the only one with a motive. Maybe he found out about the babies and decided I wasn’t worthy to carry his children. Maybe that’s why he sent soone to get rid of . That had to be it. It was the only explanation that made sense.
I kept staring at my ransacked apartnt, feeling as if the floor had been pulled out from under . I couldn’t make sense of the wreckage—clothes scattered, drawers overturned, broken glass reflecting pieces of the room and pieces of . My throat tightened, and a sense of violation sank into my bones. I hugged myself tightly, feeling lost.
Luke stood beside , his brows furrowed, hands clenched into fists. Even in the midst of this chaos, his presence was solid, steadying. The rage in his eyes was unmistakable; he was ready to hunt down whoever had done this, his voice low and thunderous with quiet threats. And as he turned to look at , his gaze softened.
"Teresa," he said, voice rough with concern, "you’re not staying here tonight. It’s not safe."
He spoke with such certainty, as if his words alone could shield from any danger. For a mont, I nearly accepted without hesitation. But my sense of independence and the deep urge to distance myself from Lucian pulled back. I didn’t want to burden Luke any longer, either. So, I cleared my throat, trying to et his worried gaze with as much resolve as I could muster.
"Luke, you’ve already done so much. I can’t impose on you or your family like this. I don’t... I don’t want to disrupt Katie and the kids’ lives." The words felt so inadequate as they left my mouth, but they were the only armor I had against the relentless kindness he always showed .
He tilted his head slightly, his brown eyes hard to read. His jaw tightened, and I could tell he was holding back whatever response had co to him first. Luke was so many things—kind, protective, the perfect big brother, and endlessly patient—but he was never one to let sothing go without a fight. The way he looked at , it felt like he was trying to see past my words, to uncover whatever I was holding back.
"You’re not inconveniencing anyone, Teresa, and you know that. I’m asking you to stay with because it’s the safest place I know." His voice held a note of disbelief that I would even question his offer, and I could hear the worry woven through it. It made my heart ache, but I knew I had to stand by my decision.
"Luke," I said softly, shifting my gaze to the broken glass on the floor so he wouldn’t read much into my words. "I’ll be fine. A hotel will be enough for tonight, I promise."
He shook his head, the muscle in his jaw flexing, but he didn’t argue further. Instead, he took a breath and let it out in a sigh. "Fine. But I’m not leaving you alone until you’re settled sowhere safe; and don’t even think about leaving town until we talk extensively about it." His words left no room for discussion so I nodded.
We gathered so of my things—a few clothes, my passport, the small stash of cash I’d hidden away, and my college certificates, precious pieces of my life that sohow felt aningless in the mont. Luke handled everything with careful, deliberate movents, as if his touch alone could protect these remnants of my world.
The ride to the hotel was quiet. Luke was tense, glancing over at every few monts, as if reassuring himself that I was still there beside him. And I, in my own way, was morizing every line of his profile, the set of his jaw, the sharpness of his cheekbones, the way his curly brown hair fell over his forehead. Ever since we were young, he was more than I had ever thought I deserved, and every second I spent with him only cented that belief.
I was going to miss him so much.
At the hotel, he booked a comfortable room for , refusing to let even consider paying. As we stood in the doorway, I could feel the weight of his gaze lingering, searching, as if he could sohow see all the things I was struggling to hide. His hand hovered near mine, and I almost reached out, almost let myself lean into him like always, but I pulled back at the last second.
"I’ll be fine here, Luke," I said, forcing a small smile. "You’ve done more than enough."
His eyes darkened, sothing like frustration flashing across his face. But he nodded, though reluctantly, and he didn’t leave until I convinced him—again and again—that I was truly okay. Only then did he go, casting one last glance over his shoulder that sent a strange pang through .
********
The next morning was a blur of emotions, a strange blend of anticipation, relief, and sorrow. The drive to the boutique felt like a farewell tour, passing by the familiar streets, buildings, and people I’d grown accustod to this past month. When I finally walked through the boutique doors, everything seed surreal. The polished counters, the soft background music, and even the neatly folded clothes on the racks felt like pieces of a life I was about to leave behind.
Mr. White was behind the counter, a kind smile on his face as he greeted . He’d always been a decent boss—understanding, fair, and patient during the days when I struggled to put on a happy face. Handing him my resignation letter felt heavier than I’d expected. When I told him I’d found a job out of town, the words sounded foreign, as if soone else was saying them. He congratulated warmly, said they’d miss around here. In that mont, a pang of guilt and sadness hit . For a fleeting second, I felt the urge to stay, to keep this little piece of stability in my life. But I swallowed the emotion down, forcing a smile and nodding in agreent.
After leaving the boutique, I headed straight to the bank, knowing I’d need every penny to start a new Chapter of my life. Standing at the teller’s window, I felt exposed, vulnerable even. The sum I’d saved wasn’t much, just enough for a fresh start if I was careful. But it symbolized sothing far greater: safety, an opportunity to step away from the life I knew and finally find myself.
By the ti I returned to the hotel, the adrenaline that had carried through the morning was fading, leaving feeling exhausted, as if I’d run a marathon. It was only 11 a.m., yet the weight of everything—my decision, my goodbyes, and my uncertain future—pressed down on like a physical burden. But I knew there was one last thing I needed to do before I could truly leave this place behind.
Sitting at the small hotel desk, I pulled out a sheet of stationery, the crisp white paper almost too clean for the ss of emotions I wanted to spill onto it. My hand trembled as I gripped the pen, the words lodged sowhere between my heart and my throat as I began,
******
Dear Luke,
I don’t know how to say this in person. Maybe it’s cowardly, but I think if I saw you right now, I wouldn’t be able to leave. And I need to leave. I can’t keep depending on you, can’t keep pretending that I don’t see how much I’ve burdened you with my problems.
You’ve been so good to , Luke. You’ve shown kindness, patience, even when I didn’t deserve it. Even though I never asked for any of it, you were there. You were always there, and that’s sothing I will never forget. You’re the brother I love so much and I always want you to be happy. I know that I’ve been selfish, taking away your ti from your family and I don’t want to be selfish anymore.
Please don’t co looking for . I need to do this on my own, to find my own way and safety, even if it’s hard. And I promise, soday, if things settle down, I’ll reach out. I’ll find a way to tell you that I’m okay. But right now, I have to go. I have to get away from him.
Thank you for everything. You may not realize it, but you saved in more ways than I can count. I’m sorry for leaving like this, but I hope you’ll understand. Please take care of yourself, Luke. You deserve happiness more than anyone I know.
With all my heart,
your baby sister,
Teresa
******
I folded the letter, my hands trembling, and left it at the front desk, asking them to give it to him when he ca looking for . Then, with one last glance back, I checked out, got into my car, and started driving.
The city’s tall buildings grew smaller in my rearview mirror, and I felt as though I were leaving a part of myself behind, a part of I would never get back. The thought of never seeing him again was like a weight pressing on my chest, but I forced myself to keep driving. I had to believe that this was the right thing to do for my babies, that leaving was the only way I could ever truly be free.
But a part of knew, even as I drove away, that no matter how far I went, Lucian Blackwood would always be a part of , like a shadow I could never quite outrun.
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