Please Come Back, My Love Chapter 256

"A mistake?" Sophia's laugh was harsh, humorless. "She commissioned a fake death video and sent it to a woman with severe asthma, knowing exactly what it would do. What part of that sounds like a fucking mistake to you?"

"She saved my life when I was at my lowest point," I said quietly. "I can't just—"

"So that gives her a free pass?" Sophia's voice rose. "She can do whatever she wants, hurt whoever she wants, and you'll always find a reason to protect her because of something that happened twenty years ago?"

"That's not what I'm doing."

"Then what *are* you doing? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're choosing her over my mother. Again."

"I'm trying to handle this without destroying everyone involved. If I hand her over to the police right now, it becomes a media circus. Your mother's condition, your family's situation—it'll all be dragged through the tabloids. Is that what you want?"

"I want justice." Her voice shook. "I want that bitch to pay for what she did."

"And she will. But on my terms, in my time. Not yours."

The line went dead.

I sat there, phone still pressed to my ear, the dial tone buzzing in the silence.

Better to handle it quietly. Give Claire a chance to reflect, to understand the magnitude of her actions, and then—if necessary—to turn herself in voluntarily.

It was the right call.

It had to be.

---

The Westchester estate sat on twenty acres of wooded grounds, the main house a sprawling Tudor revival that hadn't been updated since my grandfather's time. When I arrived three hours later, Adrian was waiting in the circular driveway.

"She's in the east wing study," he said. "Hasn't said much since we brought her in."

"Security?"

"Four men. Two posted at the main staircase, two on exterior patrol. I used the cover story you suggested—told her there'd been a credible threat against Vanderbilt family members."

"How'd she take it?"

Adrian's mouth tightened. "She seemed... unsurprised. Almost like she'd been expecting something like this."

"I'll talk to her. Give me thirty minutes, then check in."

The study was exactly as I remembered—dark paneling, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, a massive desk that had belonged to my grandfather. Claire sat in one of the leather chairs by the cold fireplace, her posture perfect, hands folded in her lap.

She looked up when I entered.

"Lucas." Her voice was steady. "I assume this has something to do with the Cruz woman."

Straight to the point. No pretense of confusion or innocence.

"You sent the video," I said.

"I did." She stood, smoothing her skirt. "Though I'm surprised you figured it out so quickly."

The casual admission sent a chill down my spine.

"Rosa Cruz is in a coma. Brain damage from oxygen deprivation. She might never wake up."

Claire's expression didn't change. "That's unfortunate."

"*Unfortunate?*" I took a step forward. "You tried to kill her."

"I sent a video. What she did with that information was her own choice. If her health was so fragile, perhaps she shouldn't have been watching upsetting content."

The sheer lack of remorse was staggering.

"You knew exactly what it would do to her."

"I knew it would upset her, yes. Make her think twice about encouraging her daughter to interfere in my life." Claire tilted her head. "But I didn't hold a gun to her head, Lucas. I didn't force her to have an asthma attack. All I did was show her a video."

"You fabricated evidence of her daughter's death and sent it to a woman with a documented panic disorder and severe respiratory issues." My hands clenched into fists. "That's not 'showing her a video.' That's—"

"A warning." Claire's voice hardened. "One that clearly didn't work, since Sophia is still breathing down our necks. Still trying to worm her way back into your life."

"This isn't about Sophia."

"Of course it is." She laughed, the sound brittle. "It's always been about Sophia. Ever since she came back from the dead, you've been obsessed with her. And meanwhile, I—the woman who actually saved your life—I'm treated like an inconvenience."

"Because you tried to kill someone!" The words exploded out of me. "Do you hear yourself? You're justifying attempted murder because you're jealous."

"I'm not jealous." But her voice cracked. "I'm angry. I'm furious that after everything I've done, everything I've sacrificed, you still look at her like she's the only woman in the world."

For a moment, I saw it—the hurt beneath the rage, the desperation that had driven her to do something so unforgivable.

But it didn't excuse what she'd done.

"You saved my life when I was at my lowest point," I said quietly. "And I've been grateful for that. But this, Claire—what you did to Rosa Cruz—this isn't something I can overlook. Not even for you."

Her face went pale. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying you're going to stay here. You're going to think about what you've done. And then—"

The door burst open.

Sophia stood in the doorway, breathing hard, her eyes wild. In her right hand, she held a riding crop from the estate's old stables.

"You *bitch*." Her voice was deadly quiet.

Claire's face went pale. "How did you—"

"I followed him." Sophia's gaze never left Claire's face. "Because I knew he wouldn't actually do anything."

My mind raced. "Sophia, how did you—"

"Your assistant. I told him if he didn't tell me where you were taking her, I'd go to the press with everything. He caved in about thirty seconds."

Fuck.

"Sophia." I moved between them. "Don't."

"Get out of my way, Lucas."

"I can't let you do this."

"Can't? Or won't?" Her eyes blazed. "Because it sure as hell looks like you're protecting her. Again."

"I'm protecting *you*. If you hurt her, you're the one who goes to prison."

"I don't care." Sophia's knuckles were white around the crop's handle. "She tried to kill my mother."

"She deserves to face justice. Real justice. Not whatever you're planning."

"Justice?" Sophia's laugh was harsh. "You mean like being locked up in a mansion for a few days? She tried to murder my mother, Lucas. And you're treating her like she shoplifted a lipstick."

She pushed past me, getting right in Claire's face. "I didn't mean for it to go that far," Claire stammered. "I just wanted to scare her. I didn't think—"

"You didn't think she'd have a severe enough reaction to end up brain-damaged? Or you didn't think you'd get caught?"

"I—"

"Save it." Sophia raised the riding crop, and Claire stumbled backward into the bookshelf.

But Sophia didn't strike.

She just stood there, the crop trembling in her grip, her chest heaving.

"You know what the worst part is?" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I actually feel sorry for you."

Claire blinked. "What?"

"You're so desperate for him to love you that you'd kill for it. You'd destroy innocent people, ruin lives—all for a man who will never, ever feel about you the way you want him to." Sophia lowered the crop slowly. "And the saddest part? You know it. You've always known it."

She turned to me, and the look in her eyes cut deeper than any weapon.

"And you. You're even worse. Because you know what she is. You know what she's done. And you're *still* making excuses for her."

"Sophia—"

"I hope you're happy together. You and your precious fiancée who you can't quite bring yourself to punish."

She paused in the doorway, looking back at Claire.

"You think you're safe because you're rich? Because you have lawyers and family connections and people like him protecting you?" Sophia's smile was cold. "You're not. Because people like me? We have nothing left to lose. And that makes us a hell of a lot more dangerous than you'll ever be."

Her gaze shifted to Claire, something dark flickering across her face.

"You should remember that, Claire. Because one day—maybe tomorrow, maybe next month, maybe next year—you're going to turn a corner or step out of a car, and I'll be there. And when that happens, all your money and connections won't mean shit."

Claire had gone chalk-white. "You're threatening me?"

"I'm making a promise. You tried to kill my mother. And if she dies, you're going to end up dead in a gutter somewhere. Maybe it'll look like an accident. Maybe a mugging gone wrong. But either way, you're going to pay. And no one—not even him—will be able to stop me."

She turned and walked out, the riding crop clattering to the floor behind her.

I stood frozen, torn between chasing after her and staying to deal with Claire.