Chapter 122: SHE WON’T WIN

Chapter 123

Lumi

The mug is still breaking, but not on the floor anymore, it’s on my head. Over and over.

The sharp crack, the pieces sliding across the tiles, the soup spreading in a slow, ugly puddle.

I can still hear it.

Ren doesn’t look down at it. He doesn’t even look at me. The second the ceramic hits the ground, his arm is under my knees, lifting me away from the glass like I weigh nothing. Like I’m something fragile he needs to protect.

He sets me down a few steps away from the glass and I just stand there.

The soup is cooling on my jeans. My hands hang at my sides, empty. My fingers are still shaking.

The phone stays pressed to his ear. "When?" he says.

His voice is flat and too careful. I hate that voice.

I watch him the way I watch everything now...too closely, too desperately.

The muscle in his jaw. The slow rise and fall of his chest. His eyes moving over the kitchen without seeing any of it.

I’m waiting for him to slip. A flinch. A frown. A flash of gold in his eyes. Anything that will tell me how bad this is.

But Ren gives me nothing. And that scares me more than if he had cursed.

"And who signed it?" he asks and didn’t say anything for like a minute.

"No. Leave it there. Don’t touch anything yet." My stomach twists.

Touch what? I want to grab the phone from him. I want to scream into it until someone tells me what is happening.

Leave what? Why? What did you find?

Astra is moving beneath my ribs, restless and low. Her claws scrape against the inside of my chest, back and forth, back and forth.

I can’t hear Darren properly, only the urgent shape of his voice through the speaker. But I can feel the bond.

It’s still there. Thin and cold with Theo’s name caught in it. Like a splinter buried too deep to pull out.

I hate this. I hate that I was happy today. I hate that I let myself be happy. I spent one whole day laughing until my stomach hurt, believing for ten stupid hours that life was finally letting me breathe.

And now the universe has walked back into my kitchen and taken it from me. Again.

Why can’t I have one moment of peace? Just one.

What did I do? What was my offence? I loved the wrong man. I trusted the wrong friend. I stayed too long in a house that was never safe. Is that really why everything keeps breaking?

My chest tightens. My breathing turns shallow.

The kitchen starts to blur at the edges. The lamp above the stove is too bright. The clock above the door is too loud.

Every nerve in my body feels exposed, like someone has pulled a live wire through me and left it sparking.

Then Ren moves. He doesn’t turn to me. He doesn’t stop talking to Darren. He just reaches out with his left hand, finds mine without looking, and slides his fingers between mine.

One by one. Until our hands are locked together and that’s all it takes. The sparks in my chest go quiet.

Not all at once. Slowly. Like someone reaching for a switch and turning the power off.

My heartbeat slows. It finds his. My lungs remember how to work, and I take my first real breath since the phone rang.

His eyes lift, they find mine and they stay. I can’t hear him through the bond. There are no words. But I feel it anyway, clear and warm against my palm.

Trust me. It isn’t a request. It’s steadier than that. It’s a hand held out over deep water.

And God help me, I take it. I trust him with every bone in my body.

"Alright," Ren says at last. "Let me know when you need us." He ends the call. But he doesn’t let go of my hand.

He looks at the broken mug on the floor, then down at my socks. Then, without warning, he lifts me again and carries me out of the kitchen.

"Ren, I can walk."

"I know." He carries me down the hallway anyway, past the dark portraits, into his study. A single lamp is already burning on the desk.

He sets me on the edge of it carefully. Too carefully. Like I might shatter the same way the mug did.

"Humour me," he says.

He sits in the leather chair in front of me, close enough that his knees brush mine. He places the phone beside my hip, screen down. Then he breathes in.

I watch his mouth open and then close. He blinks once, slowly. When his eyes open again, they’re wider than they should be. That’s when my stomach drops.

"What’s wrong?" My voice cracks before I can stop it. "Please tell me Theo is fine. Please, Ren."

His hands come up to my hips. He pulls me forward along the desk until my knees press against his chest.

There’s nowhere left for me to go. I can smell pine and woodsmoke on him, and beneath it, the faint trace of the restaurant.

He leans in and kisses the top of my head, the peck lasts a full minute. I count each seconds. I do that when I don’t know what else to do.

Somewhere around forty, I realise my fingers are curled into the front of his shirt, holding on like he’s the only solid thing left.

When he finally pulls back, his voice is steady.

"Theo is fine." My breath catches.

"He’s safe. There’s just been a development." I try to sit up but fail.

"A development?" The word feels wrong in my mouth.

"What does that mean? What kind of development? Ren, please, talk to me. What’s going on?" My heart is pounding so hard I’m sure he can feel it.

I know something is wrong. I know it in my bones.

Men don’t carry you down a hallway and kiss your hair for a full minute when the news is good.

He holds my gaze. "Sienna is filing for custody." I sit up so fast my spine cracks.

For a second, the words don’t make sense. They’re just sounds. Then they land. One after the other. Cold spreads through my stomach.

"That’s not possible," I say. "She can’t do that." I hesitate. "Can she?"

"She can."

"Ren..." I start to argue, but his fingers tighten around mine. Gently but still firmly like he’s telling me to be patient that he isn’t done.

So I bite down on everything rising in my throat and let him speak.

"She can file," he says. "Anyone can file. But that doesn’t mean she’ll win."

"But the court gave him to us." My grip tightens.

"Months ago, Ren. There was paperwork. There was a judge."

"I know. I was there."

"Then how can she just..."

"Because of the hospital." His voice drops.

"Callum had lied to the court that you’d tried to take your own life. That’s how he got Theo away from you in the first place. It’s the one thing she has. And it’s what she’ll build her entire case on." The room goes still and for a minute I find it hard to breathe.

That can’t be possible, there’s no way way in hell she’s using that to sue. That isn’t possible.

"But that’s not the truth," I whisper. "I never tried to kill myself. I would never try to harm myself. You know it, everyone knows it." My hands are shaking again.

"And the people who did it were prosecuted. They’re in a cell right now, aren’t they? Then how come she’s using a lie to sue? That isn’t even possible."

"I know." His thumbs move slowly over the backs of my hands.

"That’s why I’m telling you. She can file all she wants. She can wave that lie around in every courtroom in the state. She would never win." I stare at him.

And slowly, the truth settles into place.

"She knows she won’t win," I say.

"She knows. She sat in that courtroom and she heard the judge. She’s not stupid, Ren. She’s never been stupid. She knows exactly what her chances are." A harsh laugh tears out of me.

"She doesn’t want to win. She just wants me stressed."

"Yes."

"She wants me awake at three in the morning, staring at the ceiling. She wants me jumping every time my phone rings, wondering if today is the day." I press the heel of my hand against my eyes.

"She wants me to spend tomorrow shaking in a corner. That’s exactly what she wants. That’s her own revenge. But she won’t win. Not in the court and not in my reaction."

"Perfect." Ren said with a proud smile. "We won’t let her win. She has never won and she’d never win. You’ll always win her. Always Lumi. I promise you baby."