Chapter 162

The air was thick with tension, suffocating.

Evelyn Carter stood frozen in the doorway, her fingers tightening around the strap of her bag.

She had given everything—her heart, her trust, her loyalty.

And still, it wasn’t enough.

Alexander Whitmore’s voice echoed in her mind, sharp and final.

"If you can't wake someone who's pretending to be asleep, you have to learn to cut your losses."

Her chest ached, but she refused to let the tears fall.

Not here.

Not now.

She turned on her heel and walked out, the door clicking shut behind her like a death sentence.

The hallway stretched endlessly before her, cold and empty.

Just like her future.

But she wouldn’t look back.

Not this time.

Because some battles weren’t worth fighting.

And some people weren’t worth saving.

The baby was gone.

Was she heartbroken?

Of course she was. That tiny life had been part of her, growing inside her. How could she not feel like her soul had been torn apart?

But she also knew—this was the consequence of her choices. That child might never have wanted to be born into this mess.

And more than anything, she refused to let Lucas Bennett be its father.

Claire’s grief ran deeper than sorrow. It was a quiet, consuming devastation. Without another word, she stepped around Lucas, ready to walk away.

He lunged forward, fingers closing around her wrist like a drowning man clutching at driftwood.

"Claire, wait—please. We need to talk about this."

"Let go." Her voice was ice. She tried to wrench free, but his grip was desperate.

"You just had surgery. You shouldn’t be alone. Let me take care of you. I know I messed up, but I can fix this—just don’t walk away."

He knew. The moment she left, she wouldn’t come back.

And the thought of losing her was unbearable.

Claire turned, her gaze colder than he’d ever seen it. "Lucas, the divorce papers will be at your door by tomorrow."

The documents are on your desk in the office this afternoon. If you refuse to sign them, expect a court summons within a week."

With that, Claire wrenched her arm free from Lucas's grip and turned away. She walked off without hesitation, her steps firm and resolute.

This time, there was no hesitation, no lingering affection.

Lucas stood frozen, his body rigid, his mind numb.

The crowd that had gathered to watch the spectacle began to disperse. Whispers faded, footsteps retreated, but Lucas remained motionless, his tall frame stark against the emptying space.

He looked like a man severed from the world—a statue of desolation, directionless and hollow.

"Lucas..."

Isabella wheeled herself toward him, wincing through the pain. She saw her opportunity and seized it.

"Even without Claire, you still have me. I'll never leave your side."

Boldly, she reached out and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek against him.

"Lucas, I've loved you for so long. It doesn't matter that Claire ended the pregnancy. I can give you children. Let me be the one who stays with you."

Her voice was soft, pleading, but Lucas didn't move. His hands remained limp at his sides, his gaze fixed on the spot where Claire had disappeared.

The air around them felt heavy, suffocating.

Isabella tightened her hold, desperate for a reaction. But Lucas was lost—somewhere far beyond her reach.

And for the first time, she wondered if she had already lost him too.

The sterile hospital lights glared down as Lucas Bennett stood frozen in the hallway. His knuckles were white from gripping the armrest of Isabella Rhodes' wheelchair too tightly.

"I'll be with you from now on," Isabella murmured, her voice trembling with false sweetness. "We can forget everything and start fresh. Doesn't that sound perfect?"

Nearby, Harrison Wells, the surgeon waiting for Isabella's procedure, nearly choked on his coffee.

So she’s the one who broke them up? His grip tightened around the disposable cup. And now she’s swooping in the second they fight? Shameless.

Isabella, mistaking Lucas' silence for hesitation, reached for his hand.

The moment her fingers brushed his, he recoiled violently. The force sent her wheelchair careening backward, wheels spinning wildly.

Isabella gasped as the world tilted around her. Lucas was already walking away, his broad shoulders rigid with disgust.

"Lucas! Wait—!"

Panicked, she fumbled with the wheelchair’s controls. But in her haste, she misjudged the turn.

The back wheels caught on the stair’s edge.

Her stomach lurched as the chair tipped.

"LUCAS!"

Her scream tore through the hallway as gravity took over. The wheelchair flipped, sending her crashing down the steps in a tangle of limbs and metal.

The last thing she saw was Lucas’ retreating figure—never once looking back.

The deafening sound of her body hitting the ground didn't even make Lucas Bennett pause. He kept walking away without a backward glance.

Isabella Rhodes lay sprawled on the icy marble floor, the shock of betrayal freezing her more than the cold surface beneath her. Her wide, disbelieving eyes stared at Lucas's retreating figure as the pain of her shattered illusions radiated through her entire being.