Chapter 145

The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the hospital corridor as Sophia paced restlessly outside the NICU. Her fingers twisted the hem of her sweater, the fabric stretched thin from her constant fidgeting.

Inside, tiny Iris lay swaddled in a nest of wires and monitors, her fragile chest rising and falling in time with the rhythmic beeping of machines.

Sophia pressed her forehead against the cool glass, her breath fogging the surface.

"Any change?"

The voice startled her. She turned to find Daniel standing a few feet away, his police uniform slightly rumpled, dark circles under his eyes.

She shook her head. "The doctor said her lungs are still underdeveloped. They're keeping her on oxygen a while longer."

Daniel stepped closer, his hand hovering near her shoulder before dropping back to his side. "She's strong. Like her mother."

Sophia managed a weak smile.

A sudden commotion at the end of the hallway made them both turn. Ethan Blackwood strode toward them, his expensive shoes clicking sharply against the linoleum. His gaze locked onto Daniel with icy precision.

"What's he doing here?"

Sophia straightened. "Daniel came to check on Iris."

Ethan's jaw tightened. "This is a family matter."

Daniel held his ground. "I care about them both."

The air between the two men crackled with tension.

Sophia stepped between them. "Not here. Not now."

Ethan's phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, his expression darkening further. "We need to talk. Alone."

She hesitated, then nodded. "Give me a minute."

Daniel caught her wrist as she turned away. "Be careful."

She met his gaze, reading the unspoken warning. "I will."

Ethan led her to an empty waiting room, shutting the door firmly behind them. "We have a problem."

Sophia crossed her arms. "What now?"

"Victor Graves wasn't working alone." He pulled out his phone, showing her a grainy surveillance photo. "This man was seen near your apartment yesterday."

Sophia's blood ran cold. The figure in the image wore all black, his face obscured by a hood—but the tattoo snaking up his neck was unmistakable.

A serpent, coiled and ready to strike.

She swallowed hard. "He's back."

Ethan's voice was grim. "And this time, he's not leaving without finishing what Victor started."

Outside, the distant wail of a siren pierced the silence.

The game had changed.

And Sophia wasn't sure if any of them would survive the next move.

"Hopefully Liam can help bring him out of his shell," I murmur, passing him a cupcake.

I circle the kitchen island and sink onto a barstool, relieved to finally be off my feet. Taking a bite of the cupcake, I let my mind go blissfully blank.

After a moment of silence, Lucas speaks up. "I wanted to apologize."

"For what?"

"For coming across as rude the other day."

I wave a hand dismissively and turn to face him. "Honestly, I was being way too intense. Don't even worry about it."

The mention of that day brings back the memory of the raw pain I glimpsed in his eyes. Right now, he's doing an impressive job of masking it.

Most people might think he's fine, but I can see right through it. I recognize that kind of soul-deep struggle because I've lived it myself.

When you've been hurt, you develop a sixth sense for spotting hidden pain in others—especially when it mirrors your own.

"So, what do you do for work?" he asks, clearly trying to shift to lighter conversation.

"I'm a teacher, but I'm on leave for the next few months."

I'd considered going back, but ultimately decided against it. Even though the solitude sometimes bores me, I know I need this time—not just for the pregnancy, but for my own sanity.

"So, you and Ethan Blackwood... Liam looks just like him. It's eerie."

I snort. "Pretty much everyone in this city knows what happened with Ethan. We didn't 'get together.' It was one drunken mistake."

Sometimes I curse that night, wondering how different my life would be if I hadn't been so reckless. But then I remember—without that mistake, I wouldn't have Liam. So in the end, I'm left torn between regret and gratitude.

"What happened?" Lucas asks, curiosity flickering in his gaze.

My palms grow clammy. "That's a story for another day. I'm not ready to relive it."

Ethan hasn't contacted me since showing up at my doctor's appointment three days ago.

Neither has Isabella stormed in demanding I stay away from "her man." I suspect Ethan's too busy doing damage control with her—which, frankly, I'm grateful for.

I don't need him around complicating things. His recent behavior has left me more confused than ever, and I'm exhausted trying to decipher him.

"What about you? Where's your wife?" Given his age, I assume he's married.

"I don't have a wife."

"Okay... where's Oliver's mom, then?"

Pure, unadulterated agony flashes in his eyes—the kind of pain that isn't yours but carves its way into your soul anyway. My heart aches for him because I know exactly how consuming that kind of grief can be.

"She's... not in the picture," he rasps, voice fractured with pain and something darker—anger, maybe.

Damn it. I want to comfort him, but I'm not sure he'd welcome it.

"I'm so sorry," I whisper, guilt twisting in my chest for having dredged this up.

I can't fathom losing a partner. Can't imagine building a life alone when the person you loved most is gone.

Lucas strikes me as someone who loves deeply. And when you love like that, the loss cuts just as deep. It devours you.

Now I understand the root of his pain. He wasn't just hurt—he lost the love of his life.

He exhales sharply, visibly forcing the pain back down. "It's... fine. She's been gone a while. I'm learning to live with it."

I reach out and squeeze his hand, offering silent comfort.

Needing to lighten the mood, I ask if he'd help me replant my garden—since no one ever came to fix what Thor destroyed.

Talking to him makes me realize why Oliver is so withdrawn. Losing a parent that young leaves scars some kids never heal from.

I barely know them, but right then, I make a silent vow: I'll be there for them. They need happiness in their lives—and from what I can see, Lucas and Oliver haven't had much of that in a long time.