Chapter 71

The woman appeared visibly frightened of Evelyn. She stole a nervous glance in her direction before ducking behind Lucas.

Lucas froze. "Isabella, what are you doing here?"

Isabella Rhodes bit her lip, her wary eyes flickering toward Evelyn again. "I was worried about you. Who is she?"

"She's a friend of Claire's," Lucas answered, then turned his attention back to Evelyn. "What were you saying? What happened to Claire?"

Evelyn's expression darkened.

The moment she saw Isabella, any desire to continue the conversation evaporated.

"You stayed out all night for her?" Evelyn asked, her voice dripping with icy contempt as she raked her gaze over Isabella. "Lucas, your taste is truly appalling."

As expected, Isabella's face drained of color.

Lucas stiffened, immediately defensive. "Don't jump to conclusions. There's nothing going on between Isabella and me."

Evelyn opened her mouth to retort—but then Claire appeared out of nowhere.

"Nothing?" Claire's voice was sharp with disbelief. "Lucas, how can you lie so shamelessly?"

Claire's eyes burned with fury as she flung her designer purse straight at Lucas. "You disgusting pig!"

Isabella moved swiftly, positioning herself as a human shield in front of Lucas.

"Claire, it's not what it looks like. Don't take this out on Lucas. If you're angry, hit me instead!" Isabella pleaded, her voice trembling.

Before she could finish, the purse struck Isabella square in the face. She let out a dramatic gasp, collapsing onto the floor as if struck by a bullet. Her hands flew to her face, tears cascading down her cheeks in perfect, glistening streams.

Lucas's expression darkened instantly. He dropped to his knees beside her, his hands hovering over her as if she might shatter. "Isabella!" His voice cracked with concern.

Even Evelyn found the theatrics unbearable, let alone Claire.

The purse was made of buttery-soft lambskin and contained nothing heavier than a phone and a lipstick. It wouldn't have hurt a fly.

Claire's eyes were bloodshot, her fingers ice-cold. Evelyn reached for her hand, squeezing it gently.

"Divorce him," Evelyn murmured. "I'm with you."

Claire nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. "Come with me to the procedure next week."

"Of course."

They hadn't spoken loudly, but Lucas heard every word.

The moment Lucas heard Claire needed surgery, he instantly let Isabella go.

Lucas narrowed his eyes, studying Claire intently. "What surgery? Where does it hurt?"

"That's none of your concern," Claire shot back.

Without hesitation, she brought her stiletto heel down hard on Lucas's foot, grinding it in before walking away as if nothing had happened.

Lucas caught her wrist, his grip firm. "Did your old leg injury flare up again?"

Three years ago, Claire had been in an accident that left her leg severely damaged.

She had once been a rising star in ballet, but the injury had forced her to abandon the stage entirely. She'd even spent two long years overseas, recovering in solitude.

In the end, she'd had no choice but to pivot to modeling.

A bitter laugh escaped Claire. "Lucas, are you seriously pretending to care now?"

"You're still my wife. Of course I care."

Claire yanked her arm free. "Ex-wife."

"Ex nothing. I never signed those papers," Lucas retorted before sweeping her off her feet and tossing her over his shoulder.

"Put me down!" Claire shrieked, pounding his back with her fists.

Lucas's arms tightened around me as I struggled. "Claire, stop squirming!"

My injured leg throbbed, but pride burned hotter. "Put me down, Lucas!"

He ignored my protests, his grip unyielding. "Your leg is acting up again. Just let me carry you."

Frustrated, I dug my nails into his back, but he didn't even flinch.

Gasps and whispers followed us as he strode through the crowd, uncaring of the spectacle we made.

Evelyn stood frozen, her eyes wide.

She had never seen Lucas like this—so stubborn, so protective.

For a moment, she hesitated, then stopped herself. It was clear—whatever was between Lucas and me, it wasn't just friendship.

Turning, Evelyn's gaze landed on Isabella, who lingered nearby.

"Ms. Rhodes," Evelyn said coolly, "you saw that, didn't you? Chasing after a man who clearly cares for someone else won't end well for you."

Lucas's reaction spoke volumes. The way he had swept me up the second he heard about my surgery, the way he refused to let me walk—this wasn't indifference.

Evelyn knew Alexander's friends well enough. Lucas wasn't the type to play games.

Isabella's lips pressed into a thin line, but she said nothing.

Evelyn walked away, leaving her standing there, alone.

The realization hit her like a lightning strike. The issue had to be with Isabella.

Her cheeks burned crimson as she lowered her gaze. "I... I'm not involved with him like that," Isabella stammered, twisting her fingers together. "Mr. Bennett and I—we're only friends."

The words hung in the air, fragile as glass.

A beat of silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken tension.

Isabella's pulse raced beneath her skin. She could feel the weight of the other woman's scrutiny, the unasked questions pressing against her like a physical force.

The truth was more complicated than simple friendship, but she couldn't bring herself to say it. Not yet.

Some secrets were meant to stay buried.

For now.