After He Faked His Death, I Married My Father's Best Friend

Lucas arrived the next morning.

Not in a few days.

Not after checking his schedule.

Not after sending lawyers.

The next morning.

I was standing in the kitchen making coffee when the front door opened.

Margaret immediately stood up.

"What are you doing here?"

A familiar voice answered.

"I came to see Vivian."

My hand froze.

For a second I thought I was imagining things.

Then Lucas Hale walked into the room.

Tall.

Expensive suit.

Cold expression.

Exactly as I remembered.

And yet completely different.

The last time I saw him was at my father's funeral.

A year ago.

Back when I still believed my life couldn't get worse.

Apparently I was wrong.

Margaret crossed her arms.

"This isn't a good time."

Lucas looked at her.

"What happened to her?"

The question caught everyone off guard.

Margaret frowned.

"What?"

Lucas pointed at me.

"What happened to her?"

Silence.

I looked down at my coffee.

Margaret laughed awkwardly.

"She's grieving."

Lucas didn't laugh.

"Grief doesn't explain losing thirty pounds."

The room became quiet.

Very quiet.

Even Chloe looked uncomfortable.

Lucas took another look at me.

His expression darkened.

"When was the last time you saw a doctor?"

I opened my mouth.

Margaret answered first.

"She's fine."

Lucas looked at her.

"I wasn't asking you."

For some reason, that made me want to cry.

Not because he was rude.

Because nobody had asked how I was doing in over a year.

Not really.

Lucas looked back at me.

"Vivian."

I swallowed.

"Maybe six months."

His jaw tightened.

"We're leaving."

Margaret immediately stood.

"Excuse me?"

Lucas didn't even look at her.

"We're leaving."

"No."

Margaret's voice sharpened.

"She's staying here."

Lucas finally turned.

The room suddenly felt colder.

"You don't get a vote."

Margaret's face reddened.

"She's family."

Lucas laughed.

A cold laugh.

"The Montgomery family would disagree."

Chloe slammed her phone onto the table.

"You can't just take her."

Lucas looked at her.

"Watch me."

I almost smiled.

Almost.

________________

Twenty minutes later I was sitting in Lucas's car.

Neither of us spoke.

The city passed outside the window.

Finally Lucas broke the silence.

"You should've called me sooner."

I stared straight ahead.

"I know."

"No."

His voice softened.

"You don't."

I frowned.

"What does that mean?"

Lucas sighed.

"It means your father would've killed me if he saw you living like that."

My chest tightened.

Dad.

Nobody talked about him anymore.

Not after Ethan died.

Not after I became useful to Margaret.

Lucas kept driving.

"Did they always treat you like this?"

I laughed quietly.

"No."

"When did it start?"

I looked out the window.

"The funeral."

His hands tightened on the steering wheel.

"I see."

Neither of us spoke after that.

Because we both knew what it meant.

The moment Ethan died—

I stopped being family.

I became labor.

Money.

A servant.

A resource.

________________

The clinic looked expensive.

Which meant Lucas probably owned it.

"Do you own this place?"

"Part of it."

Of course.

I rolled my eyes.

Lucas smirked.

"There she is."

"What?"

"You rolled your eyes."

"I do that."

"You used to do it every time your father and I gave you advice."

Despite everything, I laughed.

A real laugh.

The first one in months.

Lucas stared at me for a second.

Then looked away.

Strangely uncomfortable.

________________

Three hours later the doctor entered.

He didn't look happy.

Lucas immediately stood.

"What is it?"

The doctor opened a file.

"Mrs. Blackwood."

I suddenly didn't like the sound of that.

"We found several abnormalities."

Lucas folded his arms.

"What kind?"

The doctor hesitated.

Then answered.

"There are traces of long-term exposure to harmful substances."

The room became silent.

I blinked.

"I'm sorry?"

The doctor repeated himself.

Slower.

Carefully.

"As far as we can tell, someone has been administering small amounts over an extended period."

My brain stopped working.

Lucas spoke first.

"Poison."

The doctor nodded.

"Essentially."

No one moved.

No one spoke.

Finally I laughed.

A strange little laugh.

Because suddenly everything made sense.

The exhaustion.

The headaches.

The dizziness.

The memory problems.

Margaret's vitamins.

Margaret's tea.

Margaret's supplements.

"Oh."

The word came out tiny.

Very tiny.

Lucas sat down beside me.

"Vivian."

I stared at the floor.

"Oh."

The doctor continued talking.

I didn't hear most of it.

Until one sentence.

"Based on the levels, this has likely been happening for around eleven months."

Eleven months.

Almost exactly since Ethan died.

Or pretended to die.

Lucas went completely silent.

Which somehow scared me more than yelling.

Because I remembered my father once saying:

"When Lucas gets quiet, somebody's about to have a very bad day."

________________

That evening I sat in Lucas's office.

A blanket over my shoulders.

A cup of tea in my hands.

His assistant had brought both.

Without being asked.

Apparently everyone here treated me better than my own family.

Lucas stood by the window talking on the phone.

"No."

Pause.

"I want every financial record."

Pause.

"Every account."

Pause.

"No exceptions."

Another pause.

Then:

"Find Ethan Blackwood."

He ended the call.

I looked up.

"You're really doing this."

Lucas stared at me.

"Of course I am."

"Why?"

The question slipped out before I could stop it.

For a second he looked surprised.

Then offended.

Actually offended.

"Why?"

I nodded.

"Yeah."

Lucas laughed.

Not happily.

More like he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Vivian."

"What?"

"Your father would've come for me personally if I ignored that message."

I smiled despite myself.

That sounded like Dad.

Lucas walked over.

Then sat across from me.

"You know what the last thing he asked me was?"

My smile disappeared.

"No."

Lucas looked down at his coffee.

Then quietly answered.

"He asked me to look after you."

Something inside my chest cracked.

Just a little.

Not enough to break.

Just enough to hurt.

Lucas looked back at me.

"And I should've done a better job."

For a moment neither of us spoke.

Then my phone buzzed.

Unknown number.

I frowned.

Lucas frowned too.

I answered.

"Hello?"

For a moment, there was only silence.

Then a woman's laugh.

Soft.

Familiar.

My entire body stiffened.

"Vivian."

I immediately recognized the voice.

Serena.

My grip tightened around the phone.

Across the room, Lucas noticed my expression.

His smile disappeared.

"What happened?" he asked quietly.

I ignored him.

"Serena."

She laughed again.

"I'm glad you still recognize me."

"What do you want?"

"That's a rude way to greet an old friend."

Friend.

The word almost made me sick.

I stood from my chair and walked toward the window.

"I asked what you want."

Another laugh.

Then:

"I just wanted to thank you."

I frowned.

"For what?"

"Oh, come on."

Her voice turned sweeter.

Mockingly sweet.

"You've been taking such good care of Margaret and Chloe."

My stomach dropped.

Serena continued.

"You've done so much for Ethan's family."

Silence.

Then she added softly,

"He always said you were reliable."

The room suddenly felt colder.

Lucas was watching me now.

Carefully.

Trying to understand what was happening.

I forced myself to stay calm.

"What are you really calling about?"

For the first time, Serena stopped pretending.

Her voice lowered.

Dangerous.

Satisfied.

"I hope you're not planning to attend Chloe's birthday party."

My pulse quickened.

"Why?"

A pause.

Then:

"Because some surprises are better left undiscovered."

The line went silent for a second.

Just long enough.

Just long enough for me to hear a man's laugh in the background.

Deep.

Familiar.

My heart stopped.

No.

Not possible.

Then Serena laughed.

"See you soon, Vivian."

The call disconnected.

I stared at the phone.

My hands trembling.

Across the room, Lucas stood.

"What happened?"

I slowly lowered the phone.

Then whispered,

"I heard Ethan's laugh."

The expression on Lucas's face instantly turned cold.

Dangerously cold.

And somehow—

the game had just changed.