Chapter 6

Claire sat quietly as the doctor cleaned up her wounds. Suddenly, the door banged open. Lucas stormed in like he was about to start a fight, scaring the doctor out of his wits. Claire glanced over her shoulder. “It’s okay, he’s my… boss.” She’d almost said “husband,” but switched it up at the last second. Lucas’s throat moved like something was stuck. He went straight to the doctor. “Is it serious?” “Just a scratch. No big deal.” The doctor wasn’t interested in their personal drama. He patched up Claire and handed her some ointment. Claire thanked him and walked out. Lucas followed her closely like her shadow, racing ahead to pay the bill and snatching the meds out of the pharmacist’s hands like the most responsible man on earth. Claire didn’t bother saying anything. Once they stepped out of the hospital, she pulled out her phone and tried to book a ride. Lucas snatched it and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, steering her toward the parking lot, shoved open the passenger door, and made her get in. Then he went around to the driver’s seat and got in too. He slammed the car door hard. The world outside instantly shut out. Tension filled the space. “You blocked me. Was almost killing yourself your way of getting at me?” he asked, turning to her with a tired and annoyed look on his face. Claire: “…” She paused, looked at his frown-heavy, handsome face—and suddenly laughed. Her mood had been heavy, but his ridiculous comment somehow cracked her up. He thought she was trying to guilt-trip him by risking her life? Wow, the ego on this guy. “You can relax. I’m not that considerate,” Claire said, holding out her hand. “Now give me my phone.” Lucas dodged her reach. “Fine, I lied to you today. But seriously, making that girl cry? You don’t think you went too far? She’s just a spoiled kid who says whatever comes to mind. Why take her so seriously?” Claire listened to his nonsense, catching the way he described that girl, every word soaked with unconscious tenderness. Lucas, do you even hear yourself when you talk about her? She stayed quiet for a long time, then said quietly—tired, cold, almost empty—“Don’t worry. I won’t bother her again, and I don’t care what’s going on between you two. Just make sure she knows where her boundaries are. Don’t let her pull her little stunts in front of me again.”"I'm telling you, she's like a sister to me. You're overthinking it." Lucas frowned. "A sister, huh." Claire held back the urge to throw all the proof she'd gathered right in his face. "Fine. Guess I was being dramatic. My bad. Congrats on getting another sister, then." "…" "Just drive." Claire hugged the jacket tighter around herself, feeling the chill seep into her bones. When her nose brushed the collar, that warm sandalwood scent hit her again. It was only now that Lucas noticed the sleek, ash-gray men’s blazer she wore—definitely custom-made. "Whose jacket is that?" Claire turned her face to the window, as if to spite his "sister" remark. "Brother’s. His newly acquired one," she said, her tone laced with sarcasm. Lucas: "..." His face darkened. He yanked the jacket off her and, without a word, tossed it straight out the window. Shocked and furious, Claire threw the door open, intending to retrieve it—it wasn’t hers, and she needed to return it. Seeing her actually get out, Lucas grabbed her arm and pulled her back in, then leaned over and kissed her hard. Claire clenched her teeth, refusing to respond. When he felt her resisting, he forced her mouth open, dominant and unapologetic as he deepened the kiss. Only after he’d had enough did he pull back, breathing heavily, the heat of his breath brushing her skin. “Don’t play games like this. Some things are bigger than just you.” Claire didn’t even bother replying. She was completely done. The jacket was long gone—no way to return it now. And she'd promised to give it back clean. What now? *** After the weekend mess, Claire came down with a fever that night. Lucas stayed home, didn’t step out once—made her congee, fed it to her, giving her this deluded impression that maybe, just maybe, he still cared. By midnight, her fever hadn’t broken. She lay there groggy and miserable. "Bzz— Bzz—" Lucas’s phone buzzed on the nightstand. She sat up as Lucas also turned toward it. 12:35 a.m. The caller ID read: Sweet baby. Such a sweet, cozy nickname... The buzzing wasn’t just loud—it was nerve-wracking in the quiet. It wasn’t vibrating on the table, it was vibrating through both of them.