Ch. 66..70: My Husband Wants An Open Marriage Chapter 66-70

CHAPTER 066: Out Of Character

"Get out." My voice is louder now. I point to the door. "All of you. Out. Now."

Julie's voice cuts in. "I think it's better you leave. Give him some space."

For once, my sisters don't argue. Carolina opens her mouth like she might protest, but Sofía tugs on her arm, leading her toward the door. Isabel follows, and within moments, the room is silent again.

Julie shuts the door behind them, locks it, then leans against it, watching me carefully. I can't meet her eyes. I don't want to see the pity there, too.

"I'm not going to bother you, Luke," she says after a moment, her voice gentle. "But I'm staying."

I don't protest. I can't. My legs feel like they might give out, so I sink onto the edge of the bed, my head in my hands. The silence stretches, thick and suffocating. I don't know how long I sit there before I feel the bed shift under her weight. She doesn't say anything, doesn't move closer. She just waits.

Eventually, I lift my head. "You must think I'm acting out of character."

"We're not on a movie set, Luke. I think you're human," she says.

Her words sting because they feel too kind. I don't want kindness. I want pain, to punch into a wall until my hands are sore. But I realize I don't have the strength for that. It would require me getting off this bed, and that's way too much activity.

"She killed him," I say. "And now she's walking free. They said he was alive when the paramedics got there. But the head trauma... It was too much. He was three years old. Three. And she..." I can't finish the sentence. The words taste like bile.

Julie doesn't say anything for a long time. Then she says, "I'm so sorry, Luke. It's probably not what you want to hear, I know. She'll get what she deserves."

I look at her, and for a moment, I want to believe she means it. That she understands. But how could she? How could anyone?

The air in the room feels heavy. Julie and I are still sitting on the edge of the bed, close enough that her perfume-something subtle, floral, and maddeningly familiar-fills my senses. My fingers drum against my thigh, a sharp contrast to her unnerving stillness. She's looking at me, her expression unreadable, and I don't know if I want her to say something or keep her silence. "This can't end like this," I say. "She can't just... walk away."

Julie tilts her head, studying me. "I can't tell you what to do, Luke. You wouldn't listen anyway. But if you ask me, I think you should call your lawyer."

"Lawyers. Right. Like they've ever really solved anything."

"Well, they got her convicted in the first place. That counts for something."

"Barely." I rub my temples, the pounding in my head growing more intense by the second. "I don't even remember the attorney from back then. Jerome Bush, my company's lawyer, recommended him. He handled the case, not me." "Then call Jerome."

I hesitate. The idea of calling my company's lawyer about this feels like ripping open an old wound. But

4

CHAPTER 066: Out Of Character

she's right. If anyone would have answers, it's him. I sigh and reach for my phone on the nightstand, but Julie moves at the same time, her hand brushing mine.

The contact is electric, unexpected. For a moment, we both freeze, our eyes locking. Her hand lingers, warm against mine, and I feel something shift in the air between us. Her lips part slightly, and I can't help but notice how full her bottom lip is, how soft it looks. There's something in her gaze, something I'm not

sure I want to name.

She breaks the tension, pulling back and handing me the phone. "Here," she whispers.

I take the phone, my fingers brushing hers again, and this time I don't look away. Her eyes stay on mine, steady and unflinching, and I can't stop myself from noticing everything-the way her hair falls just so around her face, the way her chest rises and falls in a rhythm I'm now hyper-aware of. God, she's beautiful. I might have said this a thousand times, but it never gets old. Something swells inside me, a need that feels out of place, almost obscene given the circumstances. I want to feel guilty, but my brain isn't functioning on logic right

now.

I dial Jerome's number with my eyes still fixed on Julie's. For a moment, I forget why I'm calling, forget everything except the maddening pull between us. It's not just lust. It's...

I don't get the chance to think about it because Jerome answers on the third ring. "Luke. What's going on?"

CHAPTER 067: Orange Isn't YourColor

CHAPTER 067: Orange Isn't Your Color

I clear my throat, trying to shake the haze. "It's about Sara."

There's a pause on the other end of the line. "As in your ex-wife?"

"Yes. She's out on parole."

"Hold on," he says. "Didn't she get like ten years?"

"Fifteen," I correct him. "It's been five. She's out."

"Wow." His tone shifts. "That's... unexpected."

"Yeah, no shit," I say. "Why is she out?"

There's the sound of typing in the background, Jerome's fingers flying across a keyboard, most likely.

Hang on. What's her last name again?"

"González."

"Got it. Sara González. Child endangerment, vehicular manslaughter, reckless driving. Hmm." He pauses, and I can hear him exhale. "Got out on the 11th of November. Says here: Good behavior." The words hit like a freight train. "What?"

"Good behavior," he repeats, like he's reading off a grocery list.

"That's the biggest bullshit I've ever heard," I snap, my grip tightening on the phone. "Good behavior? That's the reason?"

"Don't kill the messenger," Jerome says. "Look, it's unusual, sure. But not unheard of. Could be connections. Maybe someone pulled some strings."

Connections. Of course. It had taken an expensive lawyer and a damn miracle to get her convicted in the first place. Her family had been out for blood back then; it shouldn't surprise me that they'd managed to worm their way into her release.

"I need her address," I say.

"Luke..."

"Don't start."

"It's illegal to disclose that," he says. "And before you argue, let me remind you that you're my boss, but that doesn't mean I'll risk my license for you."

I grit my teeth, frustration boiling over. "I just want to talk to her."

"And in your heart, you might mean that," he says. "But it's different when you're face to face with the person who destroyed your life. It takes one second, Luke. One second of anger, one bad decision, and boom-you're in court. And the company? Under attack." "Why is everything always about the company with you?"

"Because the company is you, Lucas," he says. "You can't separate the two. Not in the public's eyes."

CHAPTER 067: Orange Isn't YourColor

I want to argue, to tell him he's wrong, but the words won't come. He's right, and I hate it. "Fine," I mutter." Just give me something. A phone number. Anything."

There's a pause, and I can tell he's weighing his options. "Alright. I'll text you her number. But listen to me -you are not permitted within fifty miles of that woman. That's not a suggestion; it's an order."

The line goes dead before I can respond. A moment later, my phone buzzes with the text. I glance at the screen, then at Julie, who's been watching me the entire time.

"I'm definitely calling my PI," I say, more to myself than to her.

"Luke," she says, taking the phone from my hand before I can do anything else. "I'm with your lawyer on this one. I can't let you see her in good conscience."

"I

"Not you too," I groan, running a hand through my hair. "I don't want to hurt her. I just want to talk. She never told me why."

Julie's quiet for a moment. Then she says something I don't expect. "Let me go to her."

"What?"

"You tell me what you want to say," she says. "And I'll meet her."

It's like all the oxygen's been sucked out of the room. I stare at her, my lips parted, and I can't decide if she's a saint or completely insane. Probably both. The soft glow from the bedside lamp catches in her hair, making her look almost otherworldly. She sits there, calm and resolute, her hands resting in her lap like she didn't just throw my entire world into chaos with one sentence.

"You'd do that for me?" My voice is hoarse, quieter than I mean for it to be.

She shrugs, but there's a warmth in her eyes that makes my chest ache. "Yeah. Just find a way to get the address. I like the Luke who's not incarcerated."

I huff out a laugh. "So you're saying if I'm in prison, you won't like me?"

"Well... maybe," she says, but there's a teasing glint in her eye. "Prison orange isn't your color."

""Is that so?"

She nods, her lips curving upward just enough to make me want to kiss the smirk off her face. "Oh, absolutely."

I don't know what it is about her-maybe it's the way she's looking at me, like she's won whatever game we're playing, or maybe it's the fact that she's willing to face my demons head-on when I can barely stand to acknowledge them-but I feel myself leaning closer, drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

I tilt my head, brushing my nose against the curve of her neck, and then I bite her. Not hard, just enough to make her gasp.

"Say it," I murmur against her skin. My lips graze the spot I just bit. "Say you wouldn't like me if I was in prison. I dare you."

She throws her head back. A soft whimper escapes her lips, and I feel a surge of satisfaction that's equal parts primal and possessive. Her scent-something sweet and intoxicating-floods my senses, making it hard to think straight.

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CHAPTER 067: Orange Isn't Your Color

"Luke..."

"Say it," I repeat, raising my head to look at her.

Her breath hitches, and for a moment, she doesn't say anything. She just looks at me, her eyes wide and unguarded, and I can see the conflict there. It's like she's torn between giving in to the moment and keeping whatever walls she's built in place for today. "You're impossible," she says.

"And yet here you are."

Her cheeks flush, and she mutters something under her breath that I don't quite catch, but I don't care. All I care about is the way she's looking at me, like I'm the only thing in the room that matters.

I take advantage of the moment, pulling her to me and capturing her lips in a kiss that's intense and consuming. She tastes like sweet temptation, and I can't help but deepen the kiss, my tongue dancing with hers.

It's like the world around us fades away. All that remains is the two of us, lost in the moment, our bodies pressed against each other. The kiss grows more intense with each passing second. Her lips are soft and warm, yielding to mine as I explore their every curve. I can feel her hands on my skin, her fingers tracing the contours of my muscles. My hands explore her body too.

I break away from the kiss to stare at her. "I don't know, Julie. There's something different about you. Is it just my eyes, or are you glowing?"

CHAPTER 068: Sated

Julie gives me a funny look. "Must be the sweat," she says.

It's not. But I don't argue. I don't have time to think because Julie's hand slides into my pants. Her slender fingers brush against my skin, sending a tremor through me. My heart races as she expertly caresses me, her touch like a feverish dream. I'm powerless to resist. My mind is consumed by the electric sensations coursing through my body. I feel myself growing harder. She continues to stroke me with a skillful, unhurried rhythm, forward, backward, circular motion-especially at the dripping tip. It's as if she's unraveling me, peeling back layers of restraint and control to reveal the raw, animalistic desire beneath. I'm lost in this moment, adrift in a sea of pleasure, my senses overwhelmed by the intensity of her touch.

I pull myself up to my knees, causing Julie's wandering hand to fall out.

Then I begin to peel off her clothes. Her eyes stay locked onto mine. The silence is punctuated by our heavy breaths and the soft rustle of fabric as it falls away.

Her shirt is gone, thrown to the floor. So are her pants. I manage to get her bra undone. My lips leave a trail of hot kisses down her collarbone. My tongue darts out to taste the salty sweetness of her skin.

Julie rips my shirt over my head, our skin finally meeting. The heat and electricity of our connection makes my head spin. I trail kisses down her chest, my hands roaming her thighs, my fingers digging into the softness of her skin. I want to taste every inch of her, to worship her body until she's screaming my name in ecstasy. My lips find her nipple, and I suck hard, my tongue circling as she moans above me.

Suddenly, she's pushing me onto the bed, and I find myself falling on my back. She quickly gathers pillows and props my head up, creating a comfortable nook for me to rest.

There's a mischievous glint in her eyes as she whispers, "Today's for you."

"Umm..."

Before I can utter another word, she moves, sliding my pants off. The sensation of the cool air against my skin is fleeting as she soon follows up by removing my boxers. I feel exposed, vulnerable, and yet utterly enthralled by the situation. Her movements are deliberate, calculated, and I can't help but wonder where she's going with this.

She shifts her position, kneeling between my legs. Her eyes never leave mine, and I can sense her intention, her desire, as she positions herself to take me into her mouth. The anticipation is almost unbearable, and I feel myself growing harder-if that's even possible. I'm not sure I'll ever get used to the way she looks at me, like I'm the most precious thing she's ever seen. She grips me firmly in her hand, her eyes still on mine, and I swear I can feel my heart pounding all the way down to my dick. She's going to kill me. She leans down.

I groan as her warm, wet mouth envelopes me. The heat and suction makes me see stars. She uses her hand and mouth in the most incredible ways-going up down, around-and I swear to God if she doesn't stop, I'll explode in a couple of minutes. I fist my hands in the sheets, trying to hold back the groans that want to escape from the back of my throat.

"Fuck, sweetheart," I whisper, my hips bucking up to meet her mouth. "That feels so good."

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CHAPTER 068 Sated

I feel her nails dig into my hips, the pain only spurring me on. I can't take it. Can't take anymore.

"I need you," I say. "I need to be inside you."

She looks up at me, her eyes dark with a need that matches mine, and I feel my heart stop. I swear the world falls away, the only things that exist are her and me, two desperate beings trying to fill the void inside us.

She stops, pulling away and licking her lips. The sight of her red, wet mouth makes me want to weep with need.

I don't remember falling, but we're on the floor now. Julie's movement had been fluid and fierce. With a swift, expert roll, she had me landing on the carpet with a soft thud. She's on top of me. The sudden change in position leaves me momentarily stunned, but as I look up at her, I see the hunger in her eyes, and my body responds accordingly.

"I see you're using those self-defense skills," I say.

"Only for the right reasons."

She hovers over me, her lips inches from mine. The sight of those lips is almost too much to bear, and I feel myself growing more desperate for her to close the distance. Today's for me, she'd said. I know she wants to be in charge today. Fine, I'll let her. But if she keeps teasing me like this... Just as I'm about to say 'fuck it', she positions herself over my body and slowly impales herself on my dick, taking me to the hilt. The sensation is overwhelming. I'm no longer a person, but an extension of the world itself. An extension of her.

As she settles into the position, I can't help but beg for more. "Fuck me," I say, my hands fisting in her hair as I pull her down for a quick, possessive kiss. "Fuck me until I can't feel anything but you."

She starts to move, her hips undulating in a slow rhythm. The friction is intense, the pleasure building with each passing moment.

Then she doubles the pace.

She's like a goddess possessed, riding me like I've never been ridden before. I can't breathe. I can't think. I don't know where I end and she begins. I only know that I am hers. Forever and always.

As she rides me, I feel myself slipping deeper into the abyss, the pleasure becoming almost unbearable. But I don't want it to stop, I don't want this moment to end. I want to be lost in this feeling forever, with her on top of me, guiding me through the storm of desire that's engulfing us both.

meu ana

Her hips roll, taking me deeper, and I swear I see the world slow down around us. The only sound is our combined moans of ecstasy.

"Oh, god," she says, throwing her head back.

She is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, even as my vision starts to blur and everything is turning hazy around the edges. I am nothing but a beast in this moment, driven to the edge of madness by her skillful hips, by the way her breasts bounce and her hips arch.

"Yes. Yes. Yes," she moans.

She's close.

CHAPTER 068: Sated

I am panting, my hips snapping as she grinds herself on me. I can feel my eyes fluttering closed, the sensation of her sex dripping on me too much. I am so fucking gone. Gone for her. Only her. I don't know when. I don't know how. I only know that as soon as I hear her cry out in bliss, I lose it. I come harder than

I ever have.

My balls draw up and my spine tingles, and I am gone. I feel my dick pulse and spurt. Spurt deep inside

her.

Her limbs go limp as she collapses on me.

The room is quiet, save for the faint hum of the heater and our unsteady breaths.

Julie is still sprawled half on top of me, her arm draped over my chest. My skin feels too tight, my heart racing in a way that has nothing to do with what just happened between us. I should feel sated, but instead, there's this strange heaviness in my chest, a sense of something bigger than just the two of us. I don't know what it is, and it's pissing me off. I'm not the kind of man who sits around analyzing his feelings. But here I am, staring at the ceiling like a damn teenager trying to figure out why his world just tilted on its axis.

It hits me-the way she looked at me when she said she'd go see Sara, the way she touches me. The way she's here, now, even though she doesn't need to. It's not just the sex, though that's a hell of a perk. It's the way she makes me feel like I'm more than the sum of my mistakes. Like I'm not just the man who lost everything, but someone worth sticking around for. And it terrifies me because I know what this feeling is, and I know how much it can destroy me if she doesn't feel the same. But it's too late to stop it, too late to shove it back into whatever box I've been keeping it in.

"I love you." The words tumble out of me before I even realize I'm saying them.

CHAPTER 069: Are You Sara? ~~Julie~~

It takes me a couple of seconds to process Luke's words. And when I do, I freeze. My breath catches and my mind feels like it's short-circuiting. Did he just say..? No, I must have misheard. My ears are still ringing. The blood rushing through me is loud enough to drown

out reality. But no, he said it. He said '1 love you'.

I climb off his body, still trembling from everything we've just done. My knees are weak, and I'm not sure if it's from the sex or from the emotional bomb he just dropped on me. I'm standing there, staring down at him, completely lost for words. My mouth opens, but nothing comes out, Luke doesn't move right away. He lies on his back, watching me with those piercing eyes and then a small, lopsided smile.

"You don't have to say anything," he says. "I just wanted you to know,"

He pushes himself up with a groan, rubbing his lower back. "Damn, my back is killing me. Next time you want to get kinky and toss me onto the floor, maybe give me a heads-up."

Haugh. "I didn't toss you. Just a little roll."

"Whatever you say, princess."

He stretches, then stands, towering over me. Before I can say anything, he sweeps me off the floor and throws me over his shoulder like I weigh nothing.

"Luke!" I yelp, laughing as I slap at his back. "Put me down!"

"Nope. You've clearly decided to break me tonight, so the least I can do is return the favor and haul you around like a sack of potatoes."

I'm not a sack of potatoes."

"Well, you're not behaving like a lady, either, so..."

I'm laughing so hard now that I can't argue anymore. He carries me into the bathroom and sets me down on the cool tile floor. The abrupt shift from laughter to quiet makes me notice how close we are again, how his eyes are searching mine, soft but full of something I don't dare name. He doesn't say anything as he turns to the tub and starts running the water, testing the temperature with his hand until it's just right.

When the tub is full, he gestures to it with a slight tilt of his head. "Get in, princess."

"Why?"

"Please, get in," he repeats, "It's my turn to take care of you."

I hesitate for a moment before stepping into the warm water, sinking down with a sigh. The heat wraps around me, loosening the knots in my muscles. Luke kneels beside the tub and grabs a washcloth and soap. "You're really doing this?" I say.

"Just enjoy it." He dips the cloth into the water and runs it over my shoulders. His touch is careful, like

he's handling something delicate. It's a side of him I don't see often, and it leaves me feeling exposed. Vulnerable. "You'll stay the night, yeah?" he asks after a moment.

"That's not even a question," I reply, letting my head fall back against the edge of the tub.

He smiles, his hands never faltering as he washes me off. The silence is comfortable for a while, but then

I feel the weight of the question I've been avoiding since we last talked about it.

"What's the deal with Sara? What do you want to ask her?"

Luke's hands still for a moment, then he exhales. "Well, when it happened, we were separated, still working out the divorce. I went to the preschool to pick Juan up, and they told me Sara had come earlier. Said we had an event and wouldn't make it by closing hours." His voice tightens, the words coming slower now. "I called her non-stop. She never picked up. Then, a few hours later, I got the call. They told me there'd been an accident."

My heart twists in my chest as I watch him, his jaw clenched and his eyes distant.

I don't say anything at first. What is there to say? The room feels heavy, like all the air has been sucked

out of it.

"I want to ask her why," Luke says. "Why she did what she did. Five years ago, she refused to talk. Maybe she'll be more talkative, about it now."

I nod, even though part of me feels like screaming. If this is what he needs, fine. I'll do it. For him. But if he asked me, I'd say she took Juan to spite Luke, to hurt him. And maybe things got out of hand.

I lean forward, brushing my fingers against his hand. "Okay," I say. "I'll ask her."

He looks at me, something like gratitude flickering in his eyes. "Thank you."

But as I sink back into the water, I can't help the thought that creeps into my mind. What if she doesn't give him the answer he's looking for?

NNN

I stare at the map on my phone again, squinting at the small blue dot. This can't be the place. It shouldn't be the place. The house in front of me looks like it belongs in a crime drama, the kind of set you see right before the SWAT team storms in and starts flipping tables, scattering drugs and guns across the floor.

The driveway is cracked, weeds poking through like nature's middle finger to maintenance. A faded plastic flamingo leans to one side, its beady eyes seeming to glare at me. The house itself is a single- story box of peeling paint and suspicious energy. Every window has bars on it, the porch light flickers like it's auditioning for a horror movie, and the mailbox is duct-taped shut.

I sigh, gripping my steering wheel tighter than necessary. This is the address Luke forced out of Jerome, his company's lawyer. Jerome swore it's legit. What the hell am I doing here? I'm not a private investigator or some avenging angel of justice. I'm just a woman in a car, trying not to look too out of place in my business-casual blouse and heels.

"Okay," I mutter under my breath, "get it together. Knock on the door, ask the questions, get the hell out of here. Simple."

CHAPTER 969: Are You Sal

Simple, yeah. Except my heart is pounding like a drumline on steroids, and my palms are sweaty

I try the phone number Jerome provided one more time, pressing call with a prayer on my lips, it rings And rings. And rings. No answer. Again,

"Unbelievable," I say, shoving my phone into my bag. What kind of paroles doesn't answer the phone fa a moment, I debate just leaving, chalking this up to bad intel and an even worse idea. But then i think about Luke-his voice, thick with pain, asking me to do this. And I know i can't turn back

Summoning every ounce of courage I have, I push my car door open, step out, and march toward the front door. My heels click against the cracked concrete, each step feeling louder than it should, I stop at the door, hesitate, then knock. Nothing happens. No sound, no movement. I knock again, harder this time.

A few seconds later, the door creaks open. A child steps out, maybe eight or nine, with a wild mop of hair tied into a lopsided ponytail. She's wearing a faded pink hoodie and mismatched socks, one of which has a hole where her big toe sticks out.

She looks me up and down like she's sizing me up for a fight. "What do you want?"

"Hi," I say, "I'm looking for Sara. Does she live here?"

The girl tilts her head. "Sara, huh? My memory's not so good. Maybe she does. Maybe she doesn't."

"Is that a yes or-"

"You got candy?" she interrupts.

"Excuse me?"

"Candy," she says, like I'm dumb. "Something shiny. My memory works better when I get paid."

I blink again, trying to decide if I'm being punked. "You're joking."

She crosses her arms and leans against the doorframe. "Rich ladies like you don't get jokes. You want something? You pay for it."

"Are you serious right now?"

She rolls her eyes so hard I'm half-convinced they'll pop out of her head. "You want to stand here all day, or you want answers?" "Fine," I say, pulling my purse out of my bag. I dig around and find a ten-dollar bill, slapping it into her outstretched hand.

She glances at it, unimpressed. "More."

"More? What do you even need money for?"

She shrugs.

Gritting my teeth, I pull out another ten and add it to the first.

She shakes her head. "More.".

"Jesus Christ." I dig deeper, finding a crumpled hundred. I shove it at her. "This is my final offer."

CHAPTER 069. Are You Sara?

She beams, pockets the bill, and steps back. "Nice doing business with you, rich lady."

"So, where is Sara?"

The girl shrugs. "Not around."

"What?"

Before I can process that infuriating response, the girl points behind me. "Oh, look. You're in luck. She's right there."

I whirl around, heart racing. A woman is walking toward us, and for a second, I'm too stunned to react. She's beautiful, in that effortless, classic way-long dark hair cascading over her shoulders, sharp cheekbones, and an air of confidence that feels out of place in this rundown neighborhood. She's carrying a grocery bag and wearing sunglasses, but the way she walks, purposeful and unbothered, tells me she's not someone who hides easily.

"Are you Sara?" I call out.

The woman stops, looks at me for a split second, and then turns on her heel and takes off running.

"Oh, come on!" I shout, kicking off my heels and chasing after her.

CHAPTER 070: Deer Caught In Headlights

CHAPTER 070: Deer Caught In Headlights

Today's not going as planned. I've bribed a child for information, thrown a perfectly good pair of heels in the middle of the street, and am currently chasing down an ex-convict like I'm auditioning for the Olympics.

My lungs are screaming, my legs are burning, and yet I can't stop. Every time I close the distance between us, Sara glances over her shoulder and picks up speed. I feel like a predator chasing prey, except the prey has better cardio. "Hey," I scream. "Stop running."

She turns sharply into an alley, and I push harder, adrenaline overriding my common sense. When I round the corner, she trips on a crack in the pavement. I'm so close I can't stop myself, and we both go tumbling to the ground in a tangle of limbs and spilled groceries. "Good Lord!" I gasp, struggling to pin her down without crushing her.

"Please, don't hurt me!" she yells, thrashing beneath me.

"What?"

"I didn't do anything!"

"I'm not here to hurt you!" My voice comes out sharper than intended. "I just want to talk. Promise if I let you go, you'll be cool."

She freezes, her wide, terrified eyes meeting mine. Slowly, she nods.

"Great." I push myself up and immediately regret it. My knee squishes into something sticky. "Oh, for God's sake," I mutter, lifting my leg and finding what looks like a wad of gum stuck to my pants. Of course.

While I'm distracted, Sara scrambles to gather her sunglasses and her scattered groceries. A bag of rice, some bruised apples, and a can of beans roll into a sad little pile. She shoves them into her bag without a word, her movements hurried and defensive, like I might snatch the food away.

When she's done, she stands and faces me. "Who are you, and what do you want?"

"Julie," I say, brushing gravel off my clothes and grimacing at the gum still stuck to my knee. "My name is Julie. Is there somewhere private we can talk?"

She stares at me, her dark eyes narrowing with suspicion For a moment, I think she's going to bolt again, but then she sighs. "I need to drop this off at the house first. There's a café nearby."

"Fine."

She turns and starts walking back toward the house, and I follow, still trying to scrape the gum off my pants. When we reach the door, the little girl from earlier is still standing there, leaning against the frame with a smirk.

I grab my shoes from the porch, slipping them on as Sara speaks in Spanish to the girl. The girl responds, her tone sharp and sassy, and Sara shoots her a warning look before handing her the grocery bag. The girl huffs, says something else in Spanish, and disappears inside, but not before throwing me one last pointed look.

"Alright," Sara says, turning back to me. "Let's go."

CHAPTER 070: Deer Caught in Headlights

I gesture toward my car. "Hop in."

She hesitates, her body stiffening. "We can walk. It's just a few blocks from here."

"No offense," I say, "but I'm not leaving my car here."

Sara's lips press into a thin line, but she nods. She climbs into the passenger seat like it's a torture device, arms crossed over her chest.

"Where to?" I say.

"Take a left at the light."

As I drive, the silence between us is heavy, broken only by the hum of the engine. I steal glances at her out of the corner of my eye.

Sara looks different from what I expected. She's beautiful, sure, but in a way that feels raw and untamed. Her hair is long and dark, falling over her shoulders in loose waves, and her face is sharp, all angles and shadows. She doesn't look like someone who makes careless decisions. Then again, what does such a person look like?

"You're not a cop, are you?" she asks.

"No."

"Then why are you here?"

"I told you-I just want to talk."

She snorts, her lips curling into a bitter smile. "Yeah, sure. You chased me down an alley and tackled me to the ground because you wanted to talk."

"Look, I'm not here to fight or accuse you of anything. I need you to answer some questions. That's all."

"About what?"

"Let's get to the café first."

Her eyes fall on me, searching for something. Truth? Weakness? I can't tell.

"Right here," she says, pointing to a small building.

I park, and we get out.

The café looks as though it's been forgotten by time, a relic from the days before chain coffee shops took over the world. The paint on the exterior is peeling in strips, revealing layers of old colors beneath-a kind of accidental mural. The awning is faded to a sad shade of beige, and the "Open" sign blinks like it's powered by a dying battery.

Sara strides in without hesitation, and I follow, letting the door close behind me with a soft chime. The inside smells like stale coffee and grease, and a jukebox in the corner wheezes out a faint tune. The place is mostly empty save for an older man in a booth, nursing a mug of something that looks like it's been reheated one too many times.

Sara slides into a booth by the window and picks up a laminated menu.

CHAPTER 070: Deef Caught In Headlights

"I won't talk without food first," she says, her voice casual like we're old friends meeting for brunch.

"Fine. Order whatever you want."

"

She waves over a waitress who looks like she's been doing this job since the Nixon administration. " Cheeseburger, fries, and a chocolate milkshake," Sara says, snapping the menu shut and sliding it across the table.

"Make that two," I add, because if I'm going to sit here and pretend I'm not spiraling into some kind of existential crisis, I might as well eat.

The waitress scribbles our order down and waddles off, leaving us in a silence that feels heavier than it should. Sara leans back in her seat, her arms crossed, her gaze darting to the window every few seconds like she's plotting her next escape route.

I sit stiffly across from her, pretending to study the café's décor. There's an old clock on the wall that's permanently stuck at 3:15, a bulletin board covered in faded flyers, and a shelf filled with chipped mugs. I try not to fidget, but my fingers keep drumming against the table.

The food takes forever, or at least it feels like forever. When it finally arrives, Sara digs in without hesitation. She eats like someone who hasn't had a proper meal in years-which, I realize, is probably true. Her movements are quick and purposeful, her eyes darting around the room between bites, as if she expects the world to snatch her plate away.

I watch her, trying to imagine what it must be like to adjust to food that doesn't come on a plastic tray and taste like cardboard. Does she savor it? Or has she forgotten how to enjoy something as simple as a meal? Suddenly, I've lost my appetite.

When she's finished, she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and leans back. "Alright," she says. "I'm ready to talk now."

I clear my throat, my mind scrambling to find the right words. I'd rehearsed this in my head on the way here-

a carefully crafted statement that felt professional and convincing. But now, sitting across from her, the script in my head feels flimsy and inadequate.

"I'm a friend of Lucas Martinez," I say.

A

The change in her is instant. Her face twists in anger, her body going rigid like a deer caught in headlights. Did he send you here to kill me?"

 

CHAPTER 071: However Long It Takes

I hadn't expected Sara to be welcoming-I mean, I'm a complete stranger who just dropped her ex-husband's name like a grenade. But seriously, why in the world would she think Luke would want to kill her? And even if he did, would he send me to do it? "I'm flattered," I say. "That you think I have what it takes to be an assassin. But no, I didn't come here to kill you."

"You sure? Because if you did, you might as well get it over with. I'm not running anymore. I didn't run when I was getting jumped in prison. I'm not running now."

The irony is almost too much. Should I remind her that just a few minutes ago, she was sprinting like we were on a track? Probably not the smartest move. I'll let that one slide.

"I'm not here to kill you," I repeat, leaning forward, trying to sound calm even as my heart races. "Luke sent me to ask you a question. He needs to know the truth about what happened."

Her eyes narrow. "What truth?"

"Why you took Juan from his school that day."

The moment I mention Juan's name, Sara freezes. Her lips thin into a line that looks like it's fighting back every word threatening to escape. For a second, I think she might hurl something at me, maybe her glass of milkshake Instead, she says, "Is that the question? Why did I take Juan from his school?"

"That's the question. Luke wants to know."

She lets out a sharp, humorless laugh. It turns a few heads in the café, including the waitress who gives us a wary glance before disappearing behind the counter. Sara pushes herself up from the booth, her movements abrupt and jerky. "Thanks for the meal," she says, straightening her shirt. "But I'm done here." "Sara-"

"No," she cuts me off, her tone sharper now, harsher. "Whatever questions you think I need to answer, I already did. To the police. To my shrink. To anyone who thought they had the right to dissect my life like I'm some kind of freak show. And if Lucas has any sense left in that thick skull of his, he'll leave me the hell alone."

For a moment, I'm too stunned to respond.

"You think this is easy for him?" I say.

Sara snorts, a sound so derisive it feels like a slap. "Do you think he's the only one who lost something that day? I lost a child too. My child. I made a stupid, impulsive mistake, and not a day goes by that I don't pay for it. But guess what? Juan is gone. None of this-none of this bullshit-will bring him back."

I stare at her, my mind racing to find the right words, something that might pierce through her armor. But before I can speak, she leans down, her face level with mine, and her next words come out low and cold. CHAPTER 071: However Long Takes

"Tell Lucas to get some help. A therapist, a priest, I don't care. But he needs to stop this. Because if he doesn't, I'll get a restraining order so fast he won't know what hit him." "Sara-"

"Goodbye, Julie."

She straightens, turns on her heel, and walks out of the café without looking back.

For a long moment, I just sit there, staring at the spot where she stood, replaying her words in my head. My fists clench under the table as anger bubbles up, but it's not directed at her. No, it's at the situation.

I want to be furious at Sara for wasting my time, for making me chase her through alleys and pin her to the ground, only to leave me with more questions than answers. But the truth is, she did answer. In her own way, she laid it all out: the guilt, the pain, the futility of dredging up the past.

And, damn it, she's right.

Luke needs to let this go.

The realization hits me hard. This isn't just about finding closure or getting answers anymore. It's about Luke not yet finding a way to move forward.

I sigh, reaching for my purse. I pull out a few bills, enough to cover the check and a decent tip, and leave them on the table. As I stand, the waitress peeks out from the back, giving me a hesitant smile. I nod at her, then head for the door.

*Outside, the air feels heavier than it should, like the universe itself is pressing down on my shoulders. I make

my way back to my car, slipping behind the wheel and gripping the steering wheel tight.

As I drive away, the streets blur past me, but my mind is fixed on one thing: how the hell am I going to tell Luke what just happened? But most importantly, how do I say to him that I think Sara's right?

It's evening. I'm hyper-aware of every creak in the house and every passing car. The phone rests in my lap like a lead weight, screen dark, but it might as well be screaming at me to pick it up. I sigh, leaning back into the couch. I've been sitting here for a solid twenty minutes, staring at the thing as if it might magically dial Luke on its own and spare me the effort. It's not fear holding me back. It's something worse uncertainty.

I guess it's difficult for me to reconcile this Luke with the one I've known for weeks now. The strong, funny, sarcastic, sweet Luke. It's hard to see him as something that needs fixing.

I shake my head and mutter to myself. "Just rip the Band-Aid off." I swipe up my phone, scroll to his name, and hit call before I can overthink it. The phone rings once, twice, and then- "Hello, princess."

His voice is warm, a little playful, like he's been waiting for me to call all day. My heart does an annoying little flutter. "Hi, Luke."

"You sound weird. How did it go with Sara?"

There's a beat of silence. I fiddle with the hem of my shirt, searching for the right words, but they're all