CHAPTER 8 #2
The way he says my name feels less like a request and more like a decision that’s already been made.
Andrew looks between us, clearly annoyed but unwilling to argue further.
After a moment, he just nods stiffly. I follow Lucien out of the office, my heart beating too fast. As soon as we turn down the hallway I whisper urgently, “Lucien, I need this job. I really don’t want to end up in HR because whatever this is—”
He opens his office door and ushers me inside.
Before I can finish the sentence, he presses the privacy button beside the wall.
The glass panels darken instantly. From the outside, no one can see in.
From the inside, we can see everything. I barely have time to process it before he turns back toward me.
Then he grabs me. The kiss is immediate. Deep. Hungry. Like he’s been holding himself back all day and finally run out of patience. My hands instinctively grab his jacket as he pulls me closer.
“I haven’t seen you all day,” he murmurs against my mouth. “You’re driving me insane.”
My heart is pounding.
Then—
Knock knock.
We both freeze.
A voice comes through the door. “Mr. Blackthorne? It’s James.”
Lucien glances at the door, then back at me. “I can send him away,” he says quietly. “Just tell me.”
For a moment I hesitate. Part of me wants him to but another part knows how this looks. “No,” I whisper. “Let him in. I..I don’t want to create more suspicion.”
Lucien studies my face for a second, then straightens slightly. “Come in.”
The door opens and James steps inside. He immediately pauses when he sees us standing there.
“Oh—uh—Andrew said we’re switching for today,” James says awkwardly.
“I just wanted to give a proper handoff and make sure you knew Era would be taking over my spot and I’d be—” He trails off, clearly sensing something is going on in the room.
Lucien speaks calmly. “That’s not correct.”
James blinks. “It’s not? Era and I aren’t switching?”
“Oh, that part’s correct,” Lucien says evenly. “You and Era are switching.” He leans casually against the desk. “Just not temporarily.”
James looks between the two of us, confusion written all over his face. “Uh… sure.” James says.
I bite my lip. “James,” I say quickly, stumbling slightly over the words, “I’ll come by your office and we can do the handoff.”
He nods gratefully. “Yeah. That sounds good.”
We walk back out into the hallway together and as we move down the corridor, I feel it. Lucien’s gaze on my back. I glance over my shoulder. He’s still standing in his doorway, watching me walk away. And just before I turn the corner, he winks and disappears in the room.
I try not to think about what just happened in Lucien’s office but fail. My heart keeps fluttering like it’s trying to escape my chest entirely.
Focus, Sera. You need this job.
James and I spend most of the afternoon handing off our work.
He walks me through the reports, the forecasting spreadsheets, the presentation drafts.
Andrew wasn’t exaggerating. James actually does the project projections better than I do.
Faster, cleaner. Which somehow makes the whole situation even worse.
Because if Andrew suddenly decides he doesn’t need me here, I’m the easiest person to let go. And right now, losing this job is the last thing I can afford. Especially if I’m going back home to a marriage that suddenly feels like it might not exist anymore.
I keep telling myself the same thing over and over.
Do your work, stay invisible. Do not get fired by HR the moment you return home.
By the time I check the clock again, it’s already 5:10 p.m. I gather my things quickly.
I need to get back to the hotel and pack.
My flight leaves early tomorrow morning.
If I hurry, I can still—
“Leaving already?”
I freeze. Lucien is leaning casually against the doorway behind me, arms crossed like he’s been standing there for a while. A slow smile spreads across his face. “Are you hiding from me now?”
I sigh softly. “Lucien…” I step closer and lower my voice. “I have to pack. My flight leaves tomorrow morning.”
Something flickers across his face. “Tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
There’s a brief pause.
Then Lucien straightens. “Okay.”
I blink. “That was easier than expected.”
He shrugs casually. “Then I guess I’ll just have to kidnap you.”
I stare at him.
“…What?”
He pushes himself off the doorframe and walks toward me like this is the most reasonable solution in the world.
“Come on.”
“Lucien—”
“You’re leaving tomorrow,” he says lightly. “Which means I have approximately one night left to convince you not to disappear.” He stops right in front of me. “And I intend to use it.”
I cross my arms, trying not to smile. “And what exactly does this kidnapping involve?”
A slow smile appears on his face. “You’ll see.”
“That’s not reassuring.”
“It’s not meant to be.”
Before we leave, Lucien walks over to the reception desk and picks up two small slips of paper and a pen. He folds them once and slips them into his coat pocket without explaining. He gestures toward the elevator. For a moment I hesitate. Then, against my better judgment, I follow him.
Outside, the evening air is cool, the city humming with the soft rush of traffic and distant voices.
Lucien leads me toward a car parked along the curb.
It’s a rental, but not the kind most people picture.
A sleek black Mercedes, low and quiet, the kind of car that looks expensive without needing to prove it.
Lucien opens the passenger door for me and I slide inside.
The interior smells faintly of leather and something clean and unfamiliar.
“You rent modestly,” I say.
He shuts the door and walks around the front of the car. “I didn’t feel like attracting attention.”
“Driving a Mercedes usually does the opposite.”
He starts the engine. “Only if you’re looking.”
The car moves smoothly through the city, weaving between glowing traffic lights and rows of buildings reflecting the last pieces of daylight.
Neither of us talks much. The silence isn’t uncomfortable.
Just heavy with something unspoken. Streetlights streak past the windows.
The sky deepens from gray to dark blue as the city slowly loosens its grip around us.
Eventually the buildings thin out and the road curves along the edge of the river.
Lucien pulls into a small gravel lot tucked behind a row of trees.
“This is it,” he says.
We step out of the car. At first I don’t see anything, just the quiet rustle of leaves and the cool breath of the river air. Then I hear it. Water moving slowly against the bank, soft voices and faint flicker of light through the trees.
Lucien gestures toward a narrow path. “Come on.”
We walk between the trees, the ground crunching softly beneath our steps.
Then the path opens. And I stop. The river stretches wide and dark in front of us, reflecting the last traces of twilight.
Along the shore, dozens of lanterns glow in warm gold light, scattered like fallen stars.
People stand quietly near the water’s edge, writing on small slips of paper before placing them inside delicate floating lanterns.
One by one, the lanterns are released. They drift slowly across the surface of the river, their reflections trembling in the dark water, tiny constellations moving with the current.
The entire scene feels hushed. Like everyone here understands this moment means something. I step closer to the water. “It’s beautiful,” I whisper.
Lucien stands beside me, his hands resting loosely in his coat pockets. “This happens every fall,” he says quietly.
I glance at him. “What is it?”
He watches the lanterns for a moment before answering. “People come here when they’re ready to let something go.” He nods toward the water. “They write down whatever they’re carrying… regrets, memories, sometimes names.”
Another lantern drifts past us, glowing softly as it floats into the darkness.
“And then?” I ask.
Lucien’s eyes follow the light moving across the river. “Then they let the river take it.”
For a while we just stand there, watching the lanterns drift across the dark water.
The river moves slowly, carrying each small light farther into the night.
Lucien reaches into the pocket of his coat and pulls out the folded slips of paper and the pen he grabbed earlier.
Without saying anything, he steps closer to the edge of the river and writes something on one of them.
His handwriting is quick, deliberate, like he already knows what belongs there.
When he finishes, he folds the paper carefully.
Not in half, but into a small paper boat, the kind children learn to make in school.
For a moment he just holds it. Then he crouches and sets it gently on the water. The tiny boat rocks once before the current catches it and carries it away. Lucien watches it drift for a moment before turning back to me. He holds out the second slip of paper and the pen.
“Your turn.”
The pen feels heavier than it should. I stare down at the blank paper, and immediately I know the name that should go there.
Dominic. My husband.
The man who kissed me goodbye that morning like everything was normal. The man who used to wake up before me just to make coffee. The man who once drove three hours in the middle of the night because I told him I missed him. The man who promised me forever.
Lazy Sunday mornings flash through my mind. Cooking dinner together in a kitchen that smelled like garlic and burnt butter. His arm around my waist while we watched movies we’d both already seen. The way he used to say my name like it meant something.
For a moment the pen hovers over the paper.
Dominic.
That’s the name I’m supposed to write. That’s the name everyone would expect. But something inside me resists.
Because the truth is… it isn’t just Dominic I need to let go.
It’s the woman who stayed. The woman who ignored the small cracks. The woman who thought love meant enduring anything.
Slowly, I write.
Era.
My old name. The version of me that belonged to that life.
The one who waited, the one who believed.
When I finish, I fold the paper once and hand it to Lucien.
He glances at it briefly, then smiles softly.
Not questioning, not asking, just understanding.
With careful hands, he folds the paper into another small boat.
Then he crouches beside the water and sets it down.
The current catches it almost immediately, carrying it away to join the others.
We stand there quietly, watching it drift farther into the dark.
The lanterns shimmer across the surface of the river, surrounding it like small floating stars.
My eyes burn suddenly. Not from sadness. Something lighter.
Lucien speaks quietly beside me, his gaze still on the water. “Some things only leave,” he says softly, “once you’re brave enough to let them.”
I glance down at my hand. The gold ring reflects the pale light around us. For a moment, flashes of the life I had flicker through my mind. Laughter in the kitchen, his arms around me, the way he once looked at me like I was his entire world.
And then the other memory comes.
The bedroom door, her voice, his hands on someone else.
The ache returns, heavy and slow. I slide the ring off my finger.
The metal feels colder than it should and for a second I just hold it in my palm, staring at it.
Then I tuck it into the back pocket of my jeans.
I’ll give it back to the man who once told me I was his whole world. The man who shattered mine.
The tiny boat drifts farther away, disappearing among the lights.
And for the first time in a long time, the river carries a piece of me away with it.