Soon, she would be Mrs. North.
And it would still be a contract.
Still be terms.
Still be control.
But standing there, watching snow fall beyond the window while Lucy Bennett held my coffee cup like it was the first warm thing she’d been given in years...
I didn’t want it to beonlythat.
The thought sliced through me, so I shut it down.
The printer whirred faintly in the outer office.
Lucy didn’t move.
Neither did I.
Because the moment Claire walked in with that stack of papers, everything would become real.
And for the first time in my life, real didn’t feel like certainty.
It felt like jumping.
And realizing, too late, that you actually cared whether you hit the ground.
Chapter 27 - Lucy
I don’t say anything when I leave Julian’s office. Not because I don’t have anything to say, but because I don’t trust myself to say it without breaking something open that I don’t yet have the energy to put back together.
I take the folder from Claire, I nod once at Julian, and I walk out.
The hallway feels longer than it did when I arrived, quieter, like the building itself knows I just stepped into something irreversible. The elevator doors close, and my reflection stares back at me, composed, capable, put together... it feels almost fraudulent.
My hands are shaking, so I grip the folder tighter, wrap my other arm around my middle, and breathe through it.
In. Out. Count to four. Again.
You can do this, Lucy.
You’ve done harder things.
I close my eyes and tell myself it is ok to let go of my dreams, if Emily gets to have hers, if mom is healthy and well cared for. I can do this.
The hospital is dimmer when I get back, evening settling into the corners like a held breath. Mom is asleep, her face soft, and I know how rare that is. When her face is like that, it meansshe isn't in pain. I grip the folder tighter, the edges biting into my palm. Emily is curled in the chair beside her bed, laptop open but untouched, her chin propped on her fist like she’s been guarding the room with sheer willpower.
She looks up the second she sees me, her eyes drifting to the folder.
“Oh,” she says. “That looks…" She flails her hands around in front of her like she is trying to conjure the word. "Ominous.”
I sit slowly on a love seat that pulls out to a bed, as if I move too fast, the weight of it will crush me. I set the folder on my lap and stare at it for a moment longer than necessary.
“I haven’t read it yet,” I admit.
"It?" She questions.
When I don't respond, Emily gets up, places her laptop on a side table and scoots in beside me. “Okay. Then we read it together.”
