Chapter 33

Serena's POV

I managed a laugh, feeling a bit more at ease. "Thanks, Jace. Long time no see, It's been a long night."

My heart pounded. It had been months since our last meeting, and I wasn't sure how he'd react. Jace took a sip of his drink, his eyes meeting mine with a hint of concern. "Serena, your stomach isn't well. Maybe have a little less to drink."

I forced a smile, trying to play it cool.

Jace and I stood apart from the crowd, our conversation stilted and brief. It felt strange, like we were two ships passing in the night.

"So," Jace said, nodding towards Lucas who was chatting confidently with others, "he's nice."

I blinked, trying to figure out his meaning. "Oh, you mean Lucas."

Jace gave a small smile and gracefully set his glass down, glancing at his watch. "It's getting late. I should head out."

I returned his smile with a polite nod. "Take care."

He nodded back, a warm smile playing at his lips, before turning and walking away. Moments later, Drew Yeager and Spencer Sherwood also left, their eyes briefly meeting mine. I ignored their glances, focusing instead on the time. How much longer did Lucas have to finish his social obligations? I'm so tired I could fall asleep.

Just then, my eyes caught Lucas moving towards the back garden. My stomach churned with unease, but I decided not to follow. Maybe he needed some fresh air.

After a while, Eleanor Yates stormed into the banquet hall, clearly angry. A short time later, Lucas calmly walked back in. Something felt off to me, but I restrained the urge to confront him. Then Ian, holding his phone and sporting an evil grin, jogged over, passed by me, and even waved goodbye.

Lucas approached me, his presence commanding. I reached for my glass, ready to take another sip of red wine, but before I could, he grabbed it from my hand. Without a word, he downed the remaining half in one swift gulp.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," he said, his voice smooth and controlled.

I stood there, stunned, the taste of the wine lingering. "Mr. Harrington, have you finished?"

He smirked, stepping closer. "Let's go, I'll take you home."

I rose from my seat, feeling a wave of dizziness wash over me. As I did, Lucas's strong arms reached out to steady me. "Careful."

"Thanks," I murmured, pushing his hand away deliberately. I didn't want to be too close, not yet. I needed space, even though his presence was undeniably magnetic.

He pressed his lips together, eyes meeting mine before he finally let go. I took a step forward, determined to keep moving.

"Come on," he said softly, falling into step beside me.

We walked side by side, our shadows blending as we moved through the crowd. The room seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of us. People around us watched, whispers starting to circulate.

"These two are totally made for each..." I heard people whispering around me.

Inside the car, the city lights blurred past the car window as I struggled to keep my eyes open. My head felt heavy, and the world seemed to spin slightly even with my eyes closed. I couldn't remember the last time I'd drunk this much - no, that wasn't true. I knew exactly when: the night after I walked away from Ian and the Whitmore Group.

"Just a few more minutes," Lucas's voice came from beside me, low and steady. I wanted to respond, but my tongue felt too heavy. Instead, I let my head rest against the cool window, trying to ground myself in the sensation.

The car's gentle motion must have lulled me to sleep, because the next thing I felt was strong arms lifting me. My eyes fluttered open to find Lucas's face inches from mine as he carried me. I should have protested - Serena Sinclair didn't need to be carried like some damsel in distress - but my body felt too disconnected to fight it.

"Your door code?" he asked as we reached my apartment.

"Birth-" I started to mumble, but I heard the keypad beep and the door clicked open. How did he...?

The apartment was dark except for the city lights filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Lucas carried me straight to my bedroom, his steps sure despite the dim lighting. As he set me down on the bed, I caught a whiff of his cologne - subtle cedar mixed with something warmer.

"Let me help with these," he said softly, carefully removing my heels. His touch froze for a moment, and I knew he'd noticed the red marks where the straps had cut into my ankles. The bed shifted as he stood, and I heard water running in my bathroom before he returned with a warm washcloth.

"You don't have to..." I tried to protest as he began gently wiping my makeup away.

"I know," he replied simply, continuing his careful ministrations.

My eyes landed on the photo on my nightstand - me and my mother at my high school graduation, both of us smiling, unaware of what would happen just months later. The familiar ache in my chest intensified.

"How did you know?" I asked suddenly, my voice barely above a whisper. "That I was framed?"

Lucas's hand stilled for a moment. In the dim light, his expression was unreadable, but his voice was gentle when he spoke. "Because I saw the truth. I've always seen it."

Something cracked inside me then - maybe it was the alcohol, or his quiet certainty, or the weight of carrying my defenses for so long. "When I was eighteen," I heard myself saying, "my own father said he'd rather see me dead than bring shame to the Sinclair name. He believed them without question. Everyone did."

The first tear slipped down my cheek, and then another. "I'm sorry," Lucas murmured.

"Don't be," I managed. "It has nothing to do with you."

"It does." His voice was firm but gentle. "Because you deserved better. You deserved to be believed."

I looked up at him then, really looked at him. Even Ian, who'd claimed to love me, had always harbored that slight doubt. He'd said the past didn't matter, but his uncertainty had shown in a hundred tiny ways. But here was Lucas Harrington, who had no reason to care, looking at me with absolute conviction.

"You're the only one," I whispered, my voice breaking. "The only one who's ever truly been on my side."