Chapter 1 – Lucia’s Return
"She’s back."
Elaine paused, still gripping the rag she’d used to polish the crystal chandelier. Her gaze lifted toward the penthouse door as footsteps echoed down the marble hall.
“She’s early,” the housekeeper muttered, adjusting the flowers.
Elaine didn’t respond. She didn’t move.
Then came the sound—heels clicking, laughter slicing through the silence like silver. The double doors flung open.
Lucia swept in like she owned the air. “James!” she called, arms outstretched.
James was already crossing the foyer. “Lucia.”
They embraced. Her heels lifted off the ground as he spun her once, her perfume flooding the space—orange blossom. His favorite.
Elaine lowered her eyes. Her husband hadn’t touched her in over a year.
“God, you haven’t changed,” Lucia murmured, fingers brushing his lapel. “Still in those tailored suits.”
“You look—alive.” James grinned, his voice warmer than she remembered.
Elaine took a step back, unnoticed.
“Oh, you remember this piano?” Lucia chirped, fingers already gliding across the ivory keys. “We used to play—”
“Beethoven,” James finished, moving beside her. “Fifth Sonata.”
Lucia began the melody. James joined, harmonizing effortlessly.
Elaine lingered on the staircase, eyes glued to the duet. Her hand tightened on the railing. Three years of marriage, and he had never once played for her.
Lucia giggled. “You still remember the left-hand part. I always cheated that part.”
“I carried you,” James said fondly.
Elaine turned away.
In the guest room, she sank onto the edge of the bed, hands trembling in her lap. Her gaze drifted to the rain tracing crooked lines down the window.
“She’s back,” she whispered.
Not just Lucia.
Everything James ever wanted had returned.
Everything Elaine was not.
---
Downstairs, camera shutters snapped. The city’s media had flocked to Whitaker Tower after whispers of Lucia’s miraculous recovery. She had survived leukemia, undergone treatment overseas, and now returned triumphant.
Reporters shouted questions.
“Lucia, how do you feel?”
“Was James the reason you came back?”
Elaine watched the footage on her phone in silence. No one asked about the woman in the background. The one who stood quietly behind the velvet rope. The wife.
---
“Did you tell her?” Lucia asked as James poured them drinks.
James stiffened. “There’s nothing to tell.”
Lucia tilted her head. “She’s still here, isn’t she?”
“She’s my wife,” he said simply.
Lucia laughed. “By contract. I read the tabloids, James. Don’t pretend it was love.”
James didn’t reply.
“I never blamed you,” she continued, voice low. “You did what you had to do. You saved me.”
James’s jaw clenched. “Don’t say that.”
“Why not?” She took a sip of wine. “You traded your life to save mine. Isn’t that romantic?”
“It wasn’t romantic,” he said coldly.
Her smile faded.
---
Later that evening, Elaine entered the dining room. She had waited until the staff left, until the candles had burned low.
James sat alone, sipping scotch.
“I didn’t realize you were still up,” she said quietly.
He didn’t look at her. “Lucia’s staying a few weeks. She needs rest.”
“I see.”
Silence.
She reached for a seat.
“Don’t,” he said sharply.
She froze.
“I’m tired,” he added, rising.
“She’s... beautiful,” Elaine murmured. “And healthy. You must be relieved.”
“I did what was necessary,” he said, walking away.
Elaine’s voice followed him. “Did you ever—”
He stopped.
“Did you ever mean a single vow you made?”
He turned slowly. “You made those vows conditional. Don't forget that.”
Then he left.
---
Elaine stood in the kitchen the next morning, stirring tea that had long gone cold.
Lucia walked in wearing one of James’s old shirts, the hem brushing her thighs. “Oh. Didn’t see you there.”
Elaine forced a smile. “You’re up early.”
“Couldn’t sleep,” Lucia said sweetly. “Jet lag. Also, this shirt—smells like him. Brings back memories.”
Elaine didn’t answer.
“Anyway,” Lucia leaned in, her voice silk-wrapped venom. “It’s been three years. Why haven’t you let go?”
Elaine met her gaze. “He’s still my husband.”
Lucia chuckled. “Technically. Emotionally? You’ve been divorced since day one.”
Elaine’s lips trembled, but she said nothing.
“You’re not angry?” Lucia asked, mock-curious. “About last night? The piano?”
“No,” Elaine whispered.
“I would be,” Lucia said. “If I were you.”
“You’re not me,” Elaine replied, voice like a splinter.
Lucia raised an eyebrow. “No. I’m not.”
She left, barefoot and smug.
Elaine remained by the kettle, fingers still wrapped around her cup. The porcelain burned.
---
That evening, Elaine set a tray by the study door. James was inside with Lucia, papers and laughter spilling from under the door crack.
She knocked.
No answer.
She knocked again.
The door opened a sliver.
“I brought dinner,” she said, holding the tray.
“I’m busy,” James said without looking up.
Elaine’s eyes darted past him. Lucia waved from the couch, mouth curling into a smirk.
“I’ll leave it here,” Elaine whispered, setting the tray down gently.
“Don’t,” James snapped. “Just go.”
Lucia laughed behind him.
Elaine straightened. “Good night,” she said, barely audible.
She walked away.
---
That night, alone in the guest room, Elaine stared at the wedding band on her finger. It no longer felt like gold. It felt like iron.
She slipped it off, just for a moment, and held it up to the moonlight.
Would he even notice?
She slid it back on, then opened her phone and typed into the search bar:
**“How to file for divorce.”**
But before she could press enter, her screen flashed with a calendar reminder.
Her cycle was late.
Elaine’s breath caught.
She blinked.
Then again.
And again.
“No,” she whispered, pressing a palm to her abdomen.
Her hand trembled.
Outside, the city’s rain whispered against the glass.
Inside, something new stirred.
A flicker of possibility.
A reason to stay—or leave faster than ever.
She didn’t know which yet.
But she would soon.