Chapter 38
Claire checked the time on her phone—2:47 AM.
Her parents would be deep in sleep by now. The last thing she wanted was to drag them out of bed over something like this.
After a tense moment of hesitation, she dialed Lucas.
The line rang four times before he answered. The background was a cacophony of loud chatter, clinking glasses, and raucous laughter. A woman’s flirtatious giggle cut through the noise.
“Yeah?” His voice was indifferent, almost bored.
Claire didn’t bother with greetings. “I’m at the police station. Come get me.”
A beat of silence. Then Lucas let out a dry chuckle, his tone dripping with mockery.
“Trouble again, Claire? You never disappoint.”
The line went dead before she could retort.
She exhaled sharply, gripping the edge of the cold metal bench beneath her. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting harsh shadows across the sterile room.
A uniformed officer approached, clipboard in hand. “Ma’am, we need the name of the person you were with tonight.”
Claire stiffened.
She had no idea who he was.
The memory flashed—dark eyes, a sharp jawline, the way he’d pulled her out of harm’s path before everything spiraled. A stranger who’d vanished the second the cops arrived.
Her fingers curled into fists.
“I don’t know his name.”
The officer’s pen hovered over the paper. “Then how do you explain the blood on your sleeve?”
Claire’s breath hitched.
That wasn’t hers.
Her teeth sank into her lower lip as she felt his irritation radiating through the phone.
"What am I even doing calling him?" Claire thought, frustration simmering beneath her skin like carbonated bubbles in a shaken soda can.
She was just about to end the call when Lucas's voice cut through the silence once more. "Fine. I'll come get you. But first, you owe me."
Claire's fingers tightened around her phone until her knuckles turned white. "Owe you what?"
"Give me a child."
The words hit her like a physical blow, leaving her momentarily breathless.
"Excuse me? We're literally finalizing our divorce! Why in God's name would I have your baby now? Have you lost your damn mind?"
She could practically hear the smirk in his voice. He was toying with her, as always.
Their marriage had never been more than a corporate merger dressed in white lace - a transaction brokered by their families' intertwined business interests.
For seven hundred and thirty endless days, Claire had waited like a fool for even a flicker of genuine affection from the man who shared her bed but never her heart.
When she'd finally gathered the courage to file for divorce, Lucas had signed the papers without hesitation, proving what she'd always known - she'd never truly been his wife, just another business acquisition.
The arrangements were still being finalized when the realization hit her like a physical blow.
He wants me to have his child now?
The absurdity of it made her throat tighten.
Lucas Bennett had made his stance painfully clear—he wouldn’t be coming to the station.
His voice had been icy through the phone.
"Seriously, Claire? If we're ending this, why should I waste my time bailing you out?"
Before she could even form a response, the sharp beep of the disconnected call echoed in her ear.
Claire stared at her phone, fingers trembling.
The weight of his rejection settled heavily in her chest.
She blinked back the sting of tears before turning to Evelyn, forcing a brittle smile.
"Well, you heard him. Lucas isn’t lifting a finger."
Evelyn’s arm tightened around her shoulders, her expression darkening with protective fury.
"Then we’ll handle this ourselves," she said firmly. "I’ll call Alexander."
Claire exhaled shakily, gripping Evelyn’s hand.
"I’m so sorry to drag you into this."
Evelyn shook her head.
"Don’t apologize. We’re getting you out of here."
The fluorescent lights of the station buzzed overhead, casting harsh shadows.
Claire swallowed hard.
She had never felt so alone—and yet, Evelyn’s unwavering support was the only lifeline she needed.
Evelyn chewed her bottom lip, hesitating. "Would Alexander even be awake at this hour?"
It was their wedding night, and here she was calling him to bail her out of jail.
How utterly ridiculous.
What kind of impression would this leave?
After a long pause, she finally dialed his number.
The call connected immediately, startling her.
His rich, velvety voice came through, laced with concern. "Where are you? I've been waiting."
Evelyn quickly explained the bar incident, carefully leaving out Ethan's name but mentioning an encounter with her ex-fiancé that had gotten out of hand.
Now she needed his help.
"Stay right there. I'm coming."
As she hung up, the roar of a powerful engine echoed outside the station.
The sound sent shivers down her spine.
She wasn't sure if it was from relief or apprehension.
Would he be angry? Disappointed?
The fluorescent lights of the police station buzzed overhead, making her headache worse.
Her hands trembled slightly as she clutched her phone.
This wasn't how she'd imagined their first night as husband and wife.
Not at all.
The heavy door creaked open.
Her breath caught in her throat.
There he stood, his tall frame silhouetted against the harsh station lighting.
Alexander Whitmore had arrived.
And the look in his piercing blue eyes was unreadable.
Waiting felt endless, so Evelyn and Claire struck up a conversation to distract themselves.
Evelyn gave a dry chuckle. "Well, this is certainly not how I imagined spending my wedding night. I’m shocked your husband isn’t furious. He sounded so collected on the phone."
Claire nodded. Alexander did seem eerily calm about the whole situation.
Curious, Evelyn tilted her head. "By the way, what’s his full name? I should at least greet him properly when we meet."
"Alexander Whitmore," Claire answered.
Evelyn’s brows shot up. "Wait—Whitmore? As in, the Whitmores?" She paused, then let out a disbelieving laugh. "Did you accidentally desecrate the Whitmore family crypt in a past life or something? Why do you keep crossing paths with people tied to that name?"
Then, realization struck. Evelyn’s eyes widened. "Hold on—did you just say your husband is Alexander Whitmore?"