Page 106 of The Call She Made That He Never Answered
"Think he'll lose?" a female reporter asked her colleague nearby.
"Eighty percent chance. These cases always favor women on the jury. Plus, those photos looked pretty damning."
I turned my head and stared at the man who'd spoken. Rumpled suit, recorder in hand, face set in professional detachment.
He felt my gaze and looked over. His eyes dropped to my rounded belly. Something shifted in his expression.
"I think I've seen you in old stories about Lucas," he said, searching his memory. "You're..."
Before I could answer, the crowd suddenly surged. Through the sea of bobbing heads and flashing cameras, I saw the courthouse doors slowly swing open.
Then I saw him.
Lucas in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit, the cool-toned fabric highlighting his broad shoulders and lean waist, tie knotted impeccably.
Even caught in the eye of a media storm, he still carried that innate aristocratic bearing. He looked thinner than before. Colder. His brow bone and cheekbones more pronounced.
His elite legal team blocked the onslaught of reporters, responding to the ambush with rapid-fire precision. Black-suited security guards formed a protective barrier as he moved forward. I was jostled by the surging press corps, tossed like a leaf on stormy seas. I couldn't hear anything—the shouted questions and camera shutters blurred into white noise. All I could see was that man striding through the crowd. Across those surging heads, a sense of distance I'd never felt before crashed over me like a flood. I'd lived at Rockefeller Manor all this time, never truly touching Lucas's world. Only now did I realize he stood at the pinnacle of power, while I was just one insignificant person in the crowd. Without a stroke of luck, I wouldn't have even had the chance to speak to him.
That disorienting sense of being lost in the dust filled me with dread.
But then, suddenly, the crowd seemed to freeze, as if struck by dark magic. Almost everyone turned to stare at me in unison. I looked up and met a pair of hawk-like gray-blue eyes. Lucas's flawless face was actually moving toward me. His Adam's apple bobbed, his lips trembling as they formed words. Though drowned in the cacophony, I could clearly read them:
"Ella..."
People automatically parted to let him through. Flashbulbs exploded around us like bombs, the white light stabbing my eyes. I could feel eyes boring into me from every direction—prying, judging, burning my skin. But I didn't care about any of it. Lucas and I met on those steps.
He stood before me, a full head taller. I could smell the cedar and something cold on him, like a winter forest. His chest heaved violently, each breath fighting to suppress something. His eyes were rimmed with red, those usually cold eyes now filmed with moisture. None of these details were like him.
"Why did you come?" His voice was terribly hoarse.
I didn't know how to answer. I let my actions speak for me.
I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around his waist.
His body went rigid, then I felt his arms trembling as they closed around me. He buried his face in the curve of my shoulder, his full weight pressing down on me.
"I'm sorry, Ella," he murmured in my ear, voice barely a whisper. "I made you worry again."
"It's okay. It's okay." I repeated it over and over.
Flashbulbs exploded around us. Reporters' voices rose in a swell, even louder than when Lucas first emerged from the courthouse, nearly lifting the roof.
The lawyers and security closed in around us, shielding Lucas and me from the media onslaught.
I heard the attorneys answering questions through the chaos.
"Yes... The verdict—Mr. Rockefeller won. He won the case!"
"The jury found that his former subordinate, Vivian Harrington, fabricated the facts and maliciously slandered him in retaliation for being fired!"
"The key evidence was dashcam footage that recorded Ms. Harrington admitting her relationship with Mr. Rockefeller was entirely a lie she'd concocted!"
I lifted my head in the chaos, meeting Lucas's eyes. "We won."
Lucas's gaze was deep enough to drown in. "Yes, Ella. You helped me."
I wanted to speak, but my throat felt blocked. I could only hold him tight, feeling his heartbeat thundering against my chest.
