Chapter 11 - LUCAS COMES HOME

Willow returned to her townhouse shortly before midnight.

The lights were already on.

Lucas was sitting in the living room.

She stopped.

“How did you get in?”

“It’s my house too.”

“Not anymore.”

Lucas stood.

He looked exhausted.

His perfect hair was disordered.

His tie was gone.

For the first time, he looked like a man whose last name could no longer protect him.

“You found the package.”

Willow’s chest tightened.

“So you did steal it.”

“I was trying to protect us.”

“By burning evidence?”

“You don’t understand what that box could do.”

“It tells the truth.”

“It destroys everything.”

Lucas approached her.

“The company.”

“My parents.”

“Thousands of employees.”

“Our marriage.”

Willow almost laughed.

“Our marriage ended when you hit me.”

His expression changed.

Regret finally appeared.

Or something resembling it.

“I lost control.”

“No.”

“You showed me your control.”

“Willow.”

“You hit me because I refused to obey.”

He looked down.

“I’m sorry.”

She had waited five years for Lucas to apologize for hundreds of smaller cruelties.

Now the words meant nothing.

She stepped toward the hallway.

Lucas grabbed her wrist.

Willow froze.

“Let go.”

“I need the box.”

“Let go of me.”

His grip tightened.

Then another voice came from the doorway.

“She said let go.”

Michael stood there.

Lucas released Willow immediately.

“How did you get in?”

Michael held up the spare key Willow had given him years earlier.

“Mechanics understand doors too.”

Lucas stared at him.

“You think you won.”

Michael shook his head.

“This isn’t a game.”

“My father is dead.”

“My wife is dead.”

“My daughter has a bruise on her face.”

“Nobody won.”

Lucas’s expression cracked.

“You have no idea what my father will do.”

Michael looked at him.

“I know exactly what your father does when he’s cornered.”

Lucas looked toward Willow.

There was genuine fear in his eyes.

“You need to leave Chicago.”

Willow stopped.

“Why?”

Lucas swallowed.

“Because the money in Harbor North isn’t the only account.”

Michael narrowed his eyes.

“What other account?”

Lucas hesitated.

Then headlights swept across the living room windows.

A black SUV stopped outside.

Lucas turned pale.

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“Too late.”

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