Page 68 of Lucas

I think the fact that I look so much like her only makes it worse. “He’d rather I had died and she lived.”

The words slip out, more breath than sound. I’ve never dared voice it, that creeping certainty. But it’s the truth, and we both know it.

“He never wanted me. Every time he looks at me, he sees her, and he remembers he lost her because of me.” My voice cracks, and I swipe at the hot tears gathering in the corners of my eyes.

“Jesus, Ava. I’m so fucking sorry.” Lucas looks stricken. He takes my hand in his much larger one. “Your sperm donoris a shit excuse for a father. No child deserves that. It’s not your fault. None of it.”

I stare down at our joined hands, fingers intertwined.

It feels nice. Safe. And isn’t that just the biggest cosmic joke? I’m so starved for basic human contact, basic decency, that even my blackmailing, supervillain husband’s touch is a balm.

Ridiculous. I’m being ridiculous.

I extract my hand from his and burrow deeper under the covers. “I think I’d like to rest now.”

“All right. I can stay until you fall asleep.”

He sounds almost hesitant. Unsure. It startles me enough that I peek up at him from my blanket cocoon.

“You don’t have to.”

“I know.” He scrubs a hand through his hair. “Let me? Please?”

Oh.

I search his face, looking for the catch, the angle, but see only concern. Concern and an awkward sort of sincerity.

Maybe he’s not a complete monster after all.

“Okay,” I whisper. “Thank you.”

He nods—a jerky dip of his chin and retreats to the armchair in the corner.

I turn onto my side, hugging a pillow to my stomach as my eyes drift shut. I’m so exhausted. Wrung out in every way.

Lucas is silent as I hover on the cusp of sleep. The only evidence of his presence is the occasional rustle of clothing and the heavy cadence of his breathing.

It should feel bizarre, having him here in this space that has become my sanctuary. My escape from him and the sham that is our marriage.

But it doesn’t. If I’m honest, it’s almost…comforting. Knowing he’s watching over me. That I’m not alone for once.

I let the thought slip away as exhaustion drags me under, too bone-weary to make sense of the conflicting emotions swirling in my chest.

Still, even as I surrender to sleep’s sweet oblivion, one stark truth follows me down.

Everything I thought I knew, every secret, every sin...

It’s all turned to ash and dust.

Father is crooked. Has been for years, maybe my entire life. All his railing against Valeur, all his tales of their treachery wrecking us.

What if it was all a lie? What if he’s the poison, the serpent in the garden and not Valeur?

And what will Lucas do if he discovers this?

A shudder wracks me, and I curl into a tighter ball.

I don’t know. I just don’t know.