Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Ella
The courthouse steps were packed. Reporters, lawyers, rubberneckers—their voices blended into a droning buzz, loud as a swarm of bees. I stood at the edge of the crowd, feeling the baby rolling restlessly in my belly. Moving constantly. Uneasy for its father.
I stared at those heavy courthouse doors. Clasped my hands together and prayed silently that everything would go well.
For weeks now, the news had been running nothing but hit pieces on the Rockefeller CEO.
That psycho Vivian—after her provocation failed, she'd burned every bridge she had left, shredded whatever dignity remained.
She'd done interviews with every bottom-feeding outlet that would have her, spinning herself as the innocent victim, spreading lies that were full of holes.
And when people called her out on the inconsistencies, she'd just fall back on "I was too scared to remember" or "it happened so many times, the details are fuzzy. "
Cases like this in New York were never just about the law. They were public executions, weighted toward gender politics. Throw out "workplace sexual harassment" and you'd automatically get women on your side, even if the accuser was an obvious fraud.
I'd offered to come to court with Lucas, but he'd refused. He didn't want the media to tear me apart. I was already an innocent victim in all this—he wouldn't let Vivian hurt me one bit more. In his words: Vivian didn't deserve it.
He'd asked me to trust his legal team and his evidence. This time, he would shield me from the storm.
But he couldn't imagine how agonizing the wait was for me. Like being flayed alive, slowly.
Finally, on the day of the verdict, Maya encouraged me to fly back to Manhattan. If I'd already decided to return to Manhattan and build a life with him, I should stand by him in battle. Even if I couldn't fight for him in the courtroom, at least I could be there when the battle ended.
It was ten in the morning. I'd been standing here for two hours. My belly was noticeably round now, and standing this long was taking its toll. My legs were numb, my back starting to ache. I had to stay at the edge of the crowd.
The courthouse exterior was imposing and vast, hundreds of steps stretching up intimidatingly. I couldn't go far. I had to be where Lucas could see me the moment he came out. That was why I was here.
"Think he'll lose?" a female reporter asked her colleague nearby.
"Eighty percent chance. These cases always favor women on the jury. Plus, those photos looked pretty damning."
I turned my head and stared at the man who'd spoken. Rumpled suit, recorder in hand, face set in professional detachment.
He felt my gaze and looked over. His eyes dropped to my rounded belly. Something shifted in his expression.
"I think I've seen you in old stories about Lucas," he said, searching his memory. "You're..."
Before I could answer, the crowd suddenly surged. Through the sea of bobbing heads and flashing cameras, I saw the courthouse doors slowly swing open.
Then I saw him.
Lucas in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit, the cool-toned fabric highlighting his broad shoulders and lean waist, tie knotted impeccably.
Even caught in the eye of a media storm, he still carried that innate aristocratic bearing. He looked thinner than before. Colder. His brow bone and cheekbones more pronounced.
His elite legal team blocked the onslaught of reporters, responding to the ambush with rapid-fire precision.
Black-suited security guards formed a protective barrier as he moved forward.
I was jostled by the surging press corps, tossed like a leaf on stormy seas.
I couldn't hear anything—the shouted questions and camera shutters blurred into white noise.
All I could see was that man striding through the crowd.
Across those surging heads, a sense of distance I'd never felt before crashed over me like a flood.
I'd lived at Rockefeller Manor all this time, never truly touching Lucas's world.
Only now did I realize he stood at the pinnacle of power, while I was just one insignificant person in the crowd.
Without a stroke of luck, I wouldn't have even had the chance to speak to him.
That disorienting sense of being lost in the dust filled me with dread.
But then, suddenly, the crowd seemed to freeze, as if struck by dark magic.
Almost everyone turned to stare at me in unison.
I looked up and met a pair of hawk-like gray-blue eyes.
Lucas's flawless face was actually moving toward me.
His Adam's apple bobbed, his lips trembling as they formed words.
Though drowned in the cacophony, I could clearly read them:
"Ella..."
People automatically parted to let him through. Flashbulbs exploded around us like bombs, the white light stabbing my eyes. I could feel eyes boring into me from every direction—prying, judging, burning my skin. But I didn't care about any of it. Lucas and I met on those steps.
He stood before me, a full head taller. I could smell the cedar and something cold on him, like a winter forest. His chest heaved violently, each breath fighting to suppress something.
His eyes were rimmed with red, those usually cold eyes now filmed with moisture. None of these details were like him.
"Why did you come?" His voice was terribly hoarse.
I didn't know how to answer. I let my actions speak for me.
I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around his waist.
His body went rigid, then I felt his arms trembling as they closed around me. He buried his face in the curve of my shoulder, his full weight pressing down on me.
"I'm sorry, Ella," he murmured in my ear, voice barely a whisper. "I made you worry again."
"It's okay. It's okay." I repeated it over and over.
Flashbulbs exploded around us. Reporters' voices rose in a swell, even louder than when Lucas first emerged from the courthouse, nearly lifting the roof.
The lawyers and security closed in around us, shielding Lucas and me from the media onslaught.
I heard the attorneys answering questions through the chaos.
"Yes... The verdict—Mr. Rockefeller won. He won the case!"
"The jury found that his former subordinate, Vivian Harrington, fabricated the facts and maliciously slandered him in retaliation for being fired!"
"The key evidence was dashcam footage that recorded Ms. Harrington admitting her relationship with Mr. Rockefeller was entirely a lie she'd concocted!"
I lifted my head in the chaos, meeting Lucas's eyes. "We won."
Lucas's gaze was deep enough to drown in. "Yes, Ella. You helped me."
I wanted to speak, but my throat felt blocked. I could only hold him tight, feeling his heartbeat thundering against my chest.
"We need to go," the senior attorney said sternly nearby. "Mr. Rockefeller, for your safety, we need to leave."
Lucas nodded.
We were chased every step of the way. The already steep stairs became even narrower. Lucas and I were forced into a single file, me in front. Countless camera flashes pursued from behind, blinding me so I could barely see the steps.
Then a scream suddenly pierced the crowd.
Before I could process what was happening, someone shoved me hard from behind.
The force was massive. I lost my balance completely. My foot missed the step, and I pitched forward. I heard myself screaming, the sound sharp and piercing.
I felt Lucas tug lightly at my clothes, but it was too late.
I slammed hard onto the steps. First my knees, then my arms, finally my stomach. My whole body rolled down like a log. Excruciating pain exploded from my lower abdomen, spreading through every nerve ending in my body.
I lay sprawled on the cold stone steps, my vision blurring. I could feel something warm flowing from between my legs, trickling down my inner thighs.
People were screaming.
"Oh my God, she's bleeding!"
"Call an ambulance!"
"Someone pushed her! I saw it! That woman!"
I struggled to lift my head. The crowd parted, and I saw Vivian standing there. Black coat, hair disheveled, makeup running down her face. She looked at me with pure madness in her eyes.
"It's all you," she shrieked like a blade. "You ruined everything! My job! My reputation! And the position of Mrs. Rockefeller that should have been mine!"
I couldn't hear what she said after that. My ears were filled with buzzing, my vision darkening. All I could feel was pain—searing pain, like someone carving out my womb with a knife.
Then Lucas's face appeared in my field of vision.
He knelt beside me, hands cradling my face. His eyes held fear I'd never seen before.
"Ella, look at me." His shout was raw. "Don't close your eyes. Please, look at me."
I wanted to answer but couldn't speak. My lips moved, producing only a moan.
"The baby..." I finally squeezed out the word through broken breaths. "Our baby."
"It'll be okay, Ella. The baby will be fine!" His voice broke into a roar, but tears were already streaming down his face, hot droplets splashing onto my cheeks. "I'll get the best doctors in the world. Listen—no matter what it costs, I'll save you both!"
He didn't dare move my body, could only half-kneel in the pool of blood, holding me carefully. I pressed my face against his sweat-soaked shirt, hearing his heartbeat in total disarray. His whole body trembled violently, the tremors spreading through me.
"Where's the ambulance?" He roared like a desperate caged animal, the sound painful against my eardrums. "Goddammit! Where is the fucking ambulance?"
The world began to spin violently. Pain like a rising tide crashed over my nerves in waves, each one more brutal than the last, trying to drown my consciousness completely.
Finally, the ambulance's piercing siren sounded in the distance. I was quickly lifted onto a stretcher. I couldn't even open my eyelids.