Chapter 192

Lucian stepped out of the CEO's office, his polished shoes clicking against the marble floor as he made his way back to his own domain.

"Mr. Lucian! How did it go? Your father didn't give you trouble, did he?" Adrian had already prepared his usual espresso, concern etched across his face as he spoke in a hushed tone.

Lucian sank into the plush leather couch beside his desk, lifting the cup to his lips. His stormy gray eyes darkened.

"He didn't give me trouble."

Adrian exhaled, shoulders sagging in relief.

"That would be impossible," Lucian added flatly.

Adrian's eyes widened, his grip tightening around his own coffee cup. "I knew it! That man never makes anything easy for you. He's a damn snake!"

"I almost wish he were just a snake." Lucian's voice was low, bitter. "At least then I wouldn't be his blood."

The espresso, once rich and bold, now tasted like ash on his tongue. "Unfortunately, biology doesn't lie."

Adrian groaned, dragging a hand through his hair. "What now?"

"Father just handed the Ashbourne wedding project to Giselle."

"What?!" Adrian nearly choked on his coffee. "That was your idea! You spent months planning it, leading the team, pulling all-nighters—and now he just hands it over? That has to be Eloise's doing!"

"It's worse." Lucian's jaw clenched. "If Giselle succeeds, she gets control of the Montclair Hotel."

Adrian's face paled.

That bastard Frederick—useless at running the company but a damn expert at screwing over his own son.

"So you just... let her take it?"

"Would it matter?" Lucian's voice was ice. "Frederick wanted to strip my authority from the start. Giselle just gave him the excuse."

If he let every betrayal raise his blood pressure, he'd have been dead years ago.

"So we do nothing?" Adrian's knuckles whitened around his cup.

Lucian took another sip, silent.

"Mr. Lucian, I hate to say it, but I'm starting to seriously resent Mrs. Montclair!" Adrian scowled.

"You've always respected her before." Lucian arched a brow, amused despite himself. "Changed your mind?"

"Personal feelings aside, this is business. I think she's out for blood. She wants to destroy you!"

"I deserve it." The admission was quiet, painful.

"But at this rate, your position in the company—"

"Won't crumble so easily." Lucian's lips curved, just slightly. "If I were that weak, I wouldn't be worth her attention. And she wouldn't be my wife."

Adrian blinked. "You have a plan?"

Lucian leaned back, eyes closing briefly. A ghost of a smile touched his lips.

"Let Seraphina win."

Adrian gaped.

Then, slowly, understanding dawned.

If they couldn't win—they'd burn it all down together.

"This time, nothing will stand in her way."

Lucian canceled his evening meeting.

The drive to the Celestia Hotel was silent, his mind racing.

The moment he stepped into the lobby, memories assaulted him.

The first time he came here, Seraphina made him climb twenty flights of stairs. Sent a decoy to humiliate him. Left him empty-handed.

No woman had ever made him feel so... powerless.

Even those who betrayed him only ever made him angry.

But her? She left him hollow.

His gaze swept over the newly renovated space—sleek, modern, already outshining the Montclair. A bitter laugh escaped him.

The Seraphina he married had seemed naive. Fragile. A country girl out of her depth in his world.

He never looked down on her for it—but he'd assumed their worlds would never truly align.

Now, he realized the truth.

It wasn't her who couldn't reach him.

It was him, always scrambling to catch up to her.

For three years, she had stripped herself of pride, of dignity, just to stay by his side.

Those were the closest he'd ever been to her.

And he hadn't even realized it.

Across the lobby, Damien was mid-conversation with two executives when he spotted Lucian.

His smile vanished.

"Let's continue this later."

The executives nodded, retreating.

Damien strode forward, expression icy.

"Mr. Montclair. Restaurant's to the left, bar to the right. Need a room? The front desk can help."

"I'm here to see Seraphina." Lucian didn't flinch.

Damien scoffed. "And you think you can just waltz in?"

If this weren't a public space, he'd have thrown him out already.

"Your opinion doesn't matter. I'm seeing her today."

Before, Lucian might have left after the first dismissal.

Not this time.

Humiliation wouldn't kill him. But not seeing her? That might.

"Seraphina doesn't want to see you." Damien's voice dropped to a growl. "Leave. Now."

"I'll leave when she tells me to." Steel laced Lucian's words. "Not you."

"Lucian—"

"Mr. Damien, is Seraphina still busy?"

A smooth voice cut through the tension.

Lucian turned.

Ethan Ashbourne strolled into the lobby, effortlessly elegant.

Two handsome men, standing feet apart. The air between them crackled.

Damien suppressed the urge to scream.

Was this a damn soap opera?

"Mr. Ashbourne," Damien said coldly, "in public, especially here, you will address her as Ms. Montclair."

Lucian smirked.

Ethan didn't miss a beat. "Fine. Is Ms. Montclair free tonight? I'd like to take her to dinner. A thank-you for my mother's signed record."

"Not happening." Damien's glare included both of them.

"I'll wait."

Lucian and Ethan spoke in unison.

They exchanged a glance.

Disgust flashed across both faces.

"Save your breath." Damien folded his arms. "She won't see either of you if you camp here all night."

His earpiece crackled.

A sharp, familiar voice hissed, "Damien. What the hell is going on in my lobby?"