Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Ella
Morning light poured through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows of the Rochester penthouse, scattering flecks of gold across the carpet.
I stood at the kitchen counter, watching Maya carefully spread a thick layer of avocado on her toast. She'd turned down my offer to add more furniture to the place.
"Ella, I'm not here to live large," Maya said, slicing a soft-boiled egg without looking up. "This place is already fancier than anywhere I've ever lived. The guest room's simple, but I didn't bring much anyway. I'm not throwing money at things we don't need."
Maya carried breakfast to the table. She was still painfully thin, her cheekbones sharp, but her eyes burned with determination—the look of someone who'd come back from the brink.
"But Maya, we'll be here a while. Furniture isn't a waste."
"Will we?"
Maya bent down, arranging the plate in front of me. I tried to help, but she pressed my hands down.
"I'm staying here to take care of you."
I looked at her, startled.
Maya nodded. "I can't do heavy work, but I can manage the basics. Cooking, cleaning, prenatal activities for the baby—I can handle all that. Don't treat me like an invalid, Ella. I'm better now."
The way she said it reminded me of our childhood. No matter how bad things got, Maya always said something like that—don't worry, I'll figure it out. She'd always been the caretaker, making rational decisions even when she could barely stand.
It was her pride, her dignity.
"Okay," I gave in. "But we should at least stock up at the store. That's not wasteful. Lucas is coming soon. I want to cook him a proper dinner—make it myself—his first night here."
Maya set down her knife. The smile faded from her face, replaced by something stern I'd never seen before. She pulled a napkin from the holder, carefully wiped the crumbs from her hands, then looked me dead in the eye.
"Ella, I've been meaning to talk to you."
I stared at her, a knot forming in my stomach.
"Lucas dropping everything and following you to Rochester for love—sure, it sounds romantic.
But..." Maya's words came slowly, carefully chosen.
"Have you thought about what happens to Rockefeller Manor in Manhattan?
What about his grandfather, who's over eighty?
What about the hundreds of thousands of employees counting on him to make decisions? "
I froze.
"Professional managers can handle a lot, but they can't replace Lucas," Maya said, regret in her voice.
"Ella, you know what I've been seeing lately?
Since Lucas went back to Manhattan, he's all over the financial news again.
Those Wall Street analysts—they're calling him the best of his generation. "
She paused, genuine admiration in her eyes. "He was born for that stage. Now he's willing to give it all up for you and the baby. That's precious, sure, but... It's like a master painter breaking his brushes. Would you see that as proof of love, or would you just feel sorry?"
Cold crept up my spine. I'd never looked at it that way. I'd been so wrapped up in the joy of him changing for me that I'd ignored what he was abandoning.
Maya was right.
I'd only thought about my feelings, about Lucas finally choosing to be with me. To live the life I wanted. But I'd never truly considered what it cost him.
The Rockefeller Group was generations of his family's blood and sweat. Lucas had been groomed as heir since childhood—it was his mission, his entire life built around that empire. Now he was handing it all over to someone else just to be here for my pregnancy.
That wasn't fair to him.
"Then..." I hesitated, my voice rough. "What if you come back to Manhattan with me? If we go back to the manor, he won't have to give up his work. And you'd get better care."
Maya laughed softly, relief in the sound.
"See, Ella? You already know the answer," she said, walking to the window and gazing at the street below.
"You never really wanted to leave Lucas.
You never wanted your child to be without his father.
If you've decided to forgive him, then you should go back where you belong—not drag him to this remote little city and pretend otherwise. "
"What about you?" I asked urgently. "If you don't come with me, how can I leave you alone?"
"I'm better, Ella," Maya turned, sunlight outlining her features, her eyes blazing.
"I can take care of myself. I can find work again, even if I start from the bottom.
As for you, stop using me as an excuse. Even sisters have to separate eventually.
You can't spend your whole life clinging to my sleeve. "
Tears spilled down my cheeks, blurring my vision. I'd never been apart from my sister. Even in the hardest times, we'd survived together. Now she was sending me away.
"Don't cry, what are you, five?" Maya came over, wiping my tears with her thumb. "All that work I did—nearly killed myself doing it—was so you could find real happiness. Now you have. I can finally let go. Time for me to find my own happiness, Ella."
I caught something in her tone—not just relief, but anticipation.
"Maya, are you keeping something from me?" I grabbed her sleeve. "Did you meet someone?"
Maya's eyes sparkled mischievously. She pulled away, heading for the living room.
"Too early to say," she said vaguely, gathering prenatal books from the couch. "Now go study for your nursing exam instead of stalking me. Time to grow up."
That whole night, I tossed and turned, Maya's words churning in my head. She was right—compared to what Lucas had sacrificed, I'd given so little. I'd been hiding in my shell like a victim, waiting for him to knock, waiting for him to beg.
If I'd truly decided to give him a chance, I should be brave enough to take the first step.
I rolled over, hand on my belly. The baby moved, as if answering my thoughts.
The next morning, like always, I left my phone by the pillow and propped myself against the headboard with a nursing textbook, waiting for Lucas's morning call. Our ritual for the past month.
Eight o'clock.
Eight fifteen.
The clock's ticking filled the silent room. Half an hour past his usual time.
I stared at the screen, that familiar dread creeping back. That feeling from the manor—waiting for his call until dark, wondering where he was, who he was with.
I took a deep breath and dialed him.
It rang and rang until it went to voicemail.
I bit my lip, fingers trembling, and tried again. Still nothing.
My hands started shaking. Panic rose like a tide, threatening to drown me.
No. I told myself. You can't spiral like before.
Lucas nearly died trying to find you. He wouldn't ignore your calls without a reason. He must be tied up with something urgent, maybe in a critical closed-door meeting.
I had to trust him.
I set down the phone, walked to the desk, and opened my study guide. I needed to focus on my own work. I needed to trust Lucas.
I stared at the page. Couldn't read a word.
"Ella! Oh my God, get out here!" Maya's voice burst from the living room, panicked.
I hurried out. She held a tablet, her face pale.
"What is it?"
"Look at this," she said, shoving the tablet toward me. "The news."
Before I could take it, my phone buzzed in the bedroom.
"Hold on." I rushed back.
Lucas.
I grabbed the phone, nearly fumbling it. My voice came out raw. "Lucas?"
"Ella, I'm sorry," Lucas sounded utterly exhausted, background noise full of shouting and hurried footsteps. "I was dealing with an emergency. Missed your calls."
"What happened?" I asked, dread settling in my gut.
Silence on the other end. I could hear his breathing—heavy, like he was fighting to stay in control.
"I got served," he finally said. "Vivian's suing me for sexual harassment."
My mind went blank. "What?"
"She filed a lawsuit," Lucas said, tired and furious. "Claims I assaulted her in the office. She's got photos, so-called witnesses."
I sank onto the couch, legs weak.
"Because of yesterday?"
"Classic malicious litigation," Lucas said, barely containing his rage. "Vivian knows workplace harassment allegations are cheap and devastating. Even when legal wins the case, the damage is done. Wall Street competitors and tabloids won't wait for a verdict."
I closed my eyes, gripping the phone. Vivian. That woman had lost her mind. Fired, reputation in tatters—so she'd drag Lucas down with her, carve an ugly scar into his name.
"What do the lawyers say?" I forced my voice steady. "What are the odds?"
"They pulled office surveillance, my medical records—blood alcohol levels prove I blacked out, incapable of anything. Evidence is solid," Lucas paused, voice heavy. "But you know how American courts work. Discovery, hearings, jury trial—three to four months minimum."
Three to four months.
My hand went to my belly. By then, our baby might already be born.
"So you can't come back," I heard myself say, strangely calm, stating a fact.
"Ella..."
"I understand, Lucas," I cut him off, couldn't let him drown in guilt. "You have to stay in Manhattan for the case. This isn't just about your reputation—it's the company's stock price, the board's confidence, the employees depending on you. I get it. Really."
A choked sound came through the line.
"I'm sorry," his voice cracked. "Ella, I swear I'll resolve this as fast as possible. I'll put the best lawyers on it, work around the clock, testify myself—"
"Lucas," I said softly, fingers tracing my belly. "Do what you need to do. Win the case. Protect your name. Save your company. Me and the baby—we'll wait."
After I hung up, I slumped on the bed's edge, the phone sliding from my hand onto the comforter.
The room was deathly quiet except for occasional car horns outside. Maya sat beside me, silent, just holding my hand.
Finally, she asked quietly, "So what are you going to do?"
I looked up, past her shoulder, out the window at the city. Rochester's sky was impossibly blue—clean and clear in a way Manhattan's never was. Sunlight spilled across distant streets, everything peaceful and safe.
But this wasn't my landscape.
I took a deep breath and stood.
"I'm going back to Manhattan," I said softly, but every word was steel. "I'm going back to him."