Lucas set down his coffee cup with a hard clink against the table. His jaw clenched, eyes narrowing as a scowl darkened his face. Rising to his full height, he looked down at Emily with a cold edge in his voice.
“Amelia is just an employee, Emily. You shouldn’t be getting upset over things like this. You have to understand—work is work. It won’t get done if you keep throwing a fit every time she stops by.”
Emily sat perfectly still, her expression unreadable as her gaze flicked between him and Amelia. Her body hadn’t moved an inch, but her mind was reeling.
‘His mistress is so bold that she can step into my home and scold me like I’m the intruder? He’s mad at me… for this girl?’
A small laugh escaped her lips—dry, bitter. She stood up from the chair, slowly walking around the table and resting her hip against its edge, arms still folded.
‘What kind of life was I living with this man? Had I truly become this blind?’
She looked straight at Lucas. Her voice was calm, cold, and entirely indifferent.
“I already told you—I’m not interested in whatever this is between the two of you,” she said quietly. “What else do you want me to do? Lay out a bed of roses for you both and then walk out of the room?”
Amelia gasped. “Emily… Lucas and I aren’t like that. We don’t have that kind of relationship,” she said quickly, her voice laced with shame and pity. “I only came here because I was worried when I heard you were in an accident. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
But Lucas wasn’t listening. His frustration was boiling over. The more Emily kept her composure, the angrier he became. With his face twisted in fury, he strode toward her, towering over her as he grabbed her shoulder with a tight grip.
She gasped, face twisting in pain as his fingers pressed into her skin. Her hand flew up to his, trying to pry it off—but he didn’t loosen his grip.
Lucas barked at her, voice sharp. “Does she look hurt to you?”
Then he turned his glare on Emily. “Does this look like someone seriously injured?”
His fingers dug deeper into her shoulder, unknowingly pressing directly into the wound hidden beneath her shirt. His dark eyes burned into hers, his tone sharp and accusing.
“Emily,” he growled, locking eyes with her. “How long are you going to keep causing trouble? When the hell will you grow up and stop acting out?”
His grip might not have been meant to hurt her, but it landed exactly on the wound from the accident—deep, raw, and still healing. The pain ripped through her shoulder like fire. Her breath caught, and she hissed, trying to pull his hand away with trembling fingers. But he wouldn’t let go.
A blotch of crimson seeped through the thin fabric of her white top, right where his thumb pressed down. The bright stain spread quickly.
Lucas’s expression shifted the second his eyes caught it. Blood.
His eyes flickered to the spot. The moment he saw red, his grip loosened instantly.
He stepped back, eyes wide, shock replacing the fury. “Emily—”
Emily, gasping and struggling to breathe through the pain, felt her vision blur. The agony in her shoulder was unbearable—so sharp she couldn’t even catch her breath.
Her head spun, the room tilting wildly as the pain overwhelmed her. Before she could stop herself, her legs gave out beneath her.
Everything went black.
But just before her body could hit the cold floor, a pair of strong arms caught her mid-fall.
“Emily?” Lucas’s voice came out as a frantic gasp. His eyes were wide with worry, panic surfacing behind his hardened features. His arms wrapped around her protectively. “Emily—”
But she had already lost consciousness.
Without wasting another second, he swept her up into his arms and carried her swiftly up the stairs toward the bedroom.
Behind him, Amelia and Dillon rushed after, their worried footsteps echoing through the hall.
Lucas pushed the bedroom door open with his shoulder and headed straight for the bed, laying Emily down carefully. He reached for a pillow, adjusting it beneath her head with care.
Behind him, Amelia entered hesitantly, her voice soft. “I’m sorry, Lucas. This is my fault. I shouldn’t have come—”
