Chapter 26
2151words
Lucian Sinclair’s Estate | Dining Area
The dining table buzzed with quiet chatter and clinking cutlery, half-finished plates of breakfast scattered across the sleek stone surface. Morning light poured through the tall windows, softening the steel-and-marble austerity with a touch of warmth.
Kristina sat in her usual seat—second to Lucian’s right, posture composed, mug steady in hand. Across from her, Eli was flipping a piece of toast like it was a game. Sebastian scrolled through something on his phone. Ash and Vex were mid-banter about the latest shift rotations, voices low and familiar.
The mood, for once, felt unburdened.
“You know tomorrow’s her last day, right?” Vex said offhandedly, jabbing his fork into his eggs. “Contract ends the 22nd.”
The conversation tripped. Not stopped—but faltered. Like something sharp had been dropped in the middle of the table and everyone instinctively paused.
Lucian stilled.
Fork in hand, mid-motion. He didn’t look up, but the lines of his shoulders went taut.
Kristina didn’t speak. Her expression didn’t shift—but something about her focus narrowed, like she’d turned inward instead of outward.
Eli blinked, looking between them. “Wait—hold on. You’re leaving?” He frowned at Kristina, then at Lucian. “Seriously? I thought this was permanent. No offense, Seb—I like you, but it got lost somewhere along the way that she wasn’t.”
Ash huffed a short laugh. “Come on, we’re the only permanent ones. Kristina was just subbing while Sebastian was recovering.”
Vex leaned back. “Still. If Lucian wanted to make her permanent… who’s arguing?”
Eli raised his brows. “If that happens, Seb won’t be leading again.”
Sebastian gave a small shrug. “Doesn’t bother me. Honestly… I’d like her to stay.”
Ash lifted his glass. “Cheers to that.”
Vex clinked his mug against it. “Cheers.”
Eli followed. “Definitely cheers.”
Lucian didn’t move.
The silence on his end of the table was a little too long. A little too quiet.
Then—calmly, almost too precisely—he set his utensils down. The gesture was small. But it carried weight.
“You didn’t tell me you’re leaving tomorrow.”
His voice wasn’t loud. But it was sharper than steel and twice as cold.
Kristina looked up, gaze steady. “I thought you knew.”
Lucian’s eyes met hers. Steady. Blank. Almost unreadable.
Then he rose.
“A word,” he said. Quiet. Controlled.
He didn’t wait for a response—just turned and walked out, his steps clipped, jaw set as he headed down the hallway toward his study.
The stillness he left behind crackled like tension trapped in glass.
Kristina didn’t move at first. But she could feel the weight of four sets of eyes on her.
Ash nudged her foot under the table, light but deliberate. Eli frowned, clearly trying to retrace something in his head. Vex leaned back in his seat, lips pursed, as if trying not to comment. And Sebastian—he didn’t say a word, but she felt him watching.
Kristina sighed. Set her mug down with deliberate calm. And stood.
Then—without looking back—she followed.
Kristina’s footsteps faded as she moved down the hall, her figure still partially visible through the open line of sight that stretched toward the study. She didn’t glance back. The silence in her wake said enough.
Ash leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly. “Well… that was fun.”
Vex whistled low. “I was joking about the contract. Didn’t think it’d detonate the damn room.”
Eli stared at his untouched toast, then glanced toward the hall like he expected to hear shouting. “Was it just me, or did Lucian look like someone told him the world ends tomorrow?”
Sebastian didn’t answer.
Ash tilted his head. “You really didn’t tell him she was leaving?”
“I assumed he knew,” Sebastian said quietly, gaze still on the hallway. “Kristina’s not the type to make a scene. Figured they had that sorted privately.”
“Well, if they didn’t,” Vex muttered, “they’re sorting it now.”
Eli rubbed the back of his neck. “He looked blindsided. Like… genuinely blindsided. Not pissed. Not controlling. Just—like he didn’t see it coming.”
Ash tapped a knuckle against the table. “Guess that makes one of us.”
Sebastian finally looked at them, voice low but clear. “He forgot.”
Vex blinked. “You think?”
“I don’t think,” Sebastian said. “I know. He forgot. He never thought of her leaving because… in his head, she’s already part of this.”
No one said anything to that.
For a long moment, they just sat—surrounded by the warmth of morning sun and the echo of a quiet storm beginning to brew down the hall.
Then Eli spoke, softer now. “What do we do if she actually leaves?”
Ash answered without missing a beat. “Make sure Lucian doesn’t implode.”
Vex leaned forward. “Make sure she doesn’t.”
Sebastian exhaled, hands folding neatly on the table. “Or better yet—make sure neither of them tries to pretend it didn’t matter.”
A beat passed. They all nodded.
Then Eli picked up his toast. “Well. This is depressing. Who wants to bet Lucian caves first?”
Ash grinned. “Depends. Are we counting emotional implosions or verbal declarations?”
“Implosions,” Vex said. “Definitely implosions.”
Sebastian didn’t smile. But the corner of his mouth twitched.
And down the hall, the silence stretched on.
Lucian Sinclair’s Estate | Lucian’s Study
Kristina’s footsteps were silent against the polished floor, but she didn’t need to make noise. Lucian had already sensed her coming.
He stood by the windows again, hands braced on the edge of the sleek black desk, head slightly bowed. The morning light edged the lines of his shoulders, casting him in cool contrast to the warmth still clinging to the rest of the house.
She stopped a few paces behind him.
He didn’t turn.
“You weren’t going to say anything.”
Kristina exhaled slowly. “I didn’t think I needed to.”
“Kristina.”
There was weight in her name. Like it held more than just syllables now. He finally turned to face her.
His expression was unreadable—but not cold. Just… guarded. Too much showing underneath for him to let anything through the surface.
“I forgot,” he said after a moment. Quiet. Honest. “I forgot your contract ends tomorrow.”
That startled her. Just a little. “You don’t forget things.”
“I don’t,” Lucian said. “Not usually.”
A pause stretched between them.
“I thought you told them,” she said, softer now. “It was part of the agreement.”
“I signed off on your assignment. I didn’t mark an end date.” His jaw flexed. “I didn’t want one.”
Her pulse jumped, but she didn’t let it show.
“You didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t ask.”
Silence settled again. Not cold. Not angry. Just full.
Lucian’s eyes scanned her face, like he was searching for a crack. Something he could anchor to. But Kristina, as always, was composed.
Finally, he asked, “Do you want to leave?”
She didn’t answer right away.
“I was hired for a window of time. That window’s closing.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Her gaze flicked up to his, steady, unflinching. “No.”
Lucian blinked once. Slowly. Then looked away, like the tension had just found a new place to sit in his chest.
“You should’ve told me,” he said.
Kristina folded her arms, more out of habit than defense. “You should’ve remembered.”
Lucian gave a quiet, breathless laugh. It wasn’t amused—it was sharp at the edges.
“I’ve been remembering everything except that,” he muttered. “Every look. Every breath you’ve taken in this house. Every time you walked into a room and I forgot how to speak.”
That made her still.
And finally—Lucian took a step closer. Just one. Not enough to reach her. Just enough to pull the air tight.
“I forgot you were temporary,” he said. “Because nothing about this has felt temporary.”
Kristina’s throat tightened, but her voice stayed even. “Then say it.”
Lucian met her gaze, and this time, there was no space between the words.
“Don’t leave.”
She didn’t move.
But she didn’t look away either.
The dining area had gone quiet after Kristina left, the only sound the faint clink of Eli setting his mug down.
“…Sooo,” Eli began, dragging the word out like bait. “That didn’t feel like a normal conversation.”
Ash glanced up. “You think?”
Vex leaned back in his chair, brow raised. “Lucian was five seconds away from slamming the table.”
Sebastian didn’t comment—but the way his gaze stayed fixed on the hallway was telling.
Eli tilted his head toward the stairs. “Should we check on them?”
Ash was already pushing out his chair. “Obviously.”
Vex followed. “Just to observe. Like responsible adults.”
Sebastian gave them all a flat look. “You’re going to eavesdrop.”
Eli didn’t even pretend to deny it. “Exactly.”
As they reached the bottom of the stairs, Eli added under his breath, “I haven’t seen him that rattled since the Halloway incident.”
Ash slowed. “What’s the Halloway incident?”
Vex turned. “Yeah, I’ve never heard of that.”
Sebastian didn’t pause. “You weren’t here yet.”
Eli smirked. “Exactly. And let’s just say… Lucian lost his temper. Bad.”
Ash blinked. “How bad?”
Eli grinned. “Bad enough it changed company policy.”
Vex mouthed, Damn, and picked up the pace.
They reached the study door. It wasn’t fully closed.
Just a small gap.
Eli glanced over his shoulder like someone might stop them—then gently nudged the door a little wider with one fingertip.
They all leaned in.
Sebastian stayed back a step, arms crossed, gaze watchful. But he didn’t stop them.
Inside, muffled voices filtered through—Kristina’s low and calm. Lucian’s deeper, rougher around the edges.
Then something clearer:
“I forgot you were temporary,”
“Because nothing about this has felt temporary.”
“Then say it.”
Ash raised his brows.
Vex’s eyes lit up.
Eli looked like Christmas had come early.
They leaned in farther.
And the door creaked—just slightly.
Then silence inside.
Eli winced. Froze. Held his breath.
The door creaked softly.
And then—nothing.
No more voices.
Not even a breath.
Eli’s grin locked in place—mid-gloat, mid-regret.
Ash went statue-still.
Vex mouthed, Don’t move.
Sebastian, still leaning against the far wall with his arms crossed, looked like he’d seen this coming a mile away.
Inside the study, there was a quiet shuffle of movement. A footstep, maybe. Then—
The door yanked open.
Hard and fast.
Kristina stood there, perfectly composed, staring straight at them.
Eli froze mid-lean, caught in the act, one eye wide, the other still squinting into the gap.
Ash straightened so fast he bumped Vex’s shoulder.
Vex looked like he was calculating his odds of survival.
Sebastian didn’t even flinch. “Told you.”
Kristina didn’t say anything.
Her expression said everything.
Eli cleared his throat. “Uh. Hi.”
Kristina’s gaze flicked to each of them—assessing, unamused.
Ash tried, “We were just… uh—security check?”
Kristina raised one brow.
Vex offered, “Light recon.”
Sebastian gave her a small shrug, entirely unbothered. “They dragged me into it.”
Kristina just stared.
Eli muttered, “So… we’re not allowed to ask if he begged you to stay, or—?”
The door shut firmly in their faces.
None of them moved.
Ash whispered, “Worth it.”
The door clicked shut.
Outside, stunned silence.
Kristina turned back, eyes still sharp from the ambush, but something else lingered under the surface now. Not just annoyance. Not just embarrassment. Her pulse was high—but not from the door.
Lucian hadn’t moved. He was still where she’d left him, one hand braced on the edge of the desk, the other at his side, knuckles whitening with the force he wasn’t using.
She exhaled. Not a sigh. Something heavier. Then she walked forward again—deliberately this time. Her steps were slow. Controlled. Almost like she was reclaiming the moment they’d both lost when their audience was discovered.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “About the contract. I wasn’t hiding it.”
“You really didn’t know?”
His voice was low. Honest. A rare kind of raw that she wasn’t used to seeing from him.
“I didn’t know,” Lucian repeated, gaze lifting. “Because I didn’t let myself think about it. You were here. Every day. Every moment. Somewhere along the way, I stopped treating that as temporary.”
Kristina swallowed hard.
For a second, she didn’t know what to say.
Because she hadn’t let herself think about it either.
Lucian stepped closer—not too close, but enough that the tension curled tighter between them again.
“Do you want it to end tomorrow?” he asked.
The words hung there. Not an order. Not even a plea. Just... a question. Stripped bare.
Kristina didn’t answer immediately.
“I don’t know.”
Her voice cracked, just slightly. She hated that it did.
“I didn’t think you’d care.”
Lucian’s jaw flexed. Just once. Then—
He didn’t step back. Didn’t break eye contact.
“I care more than I should.”
And just like that, the air shifted again—quieter now. Sharper.
This wasn’t the tension from earlier. This wasn’t anger or frustration.
It was something far more dangerous.
Something that felt a lot like choice. And it was hers to make.
Because the things we forget… are often the ones we can’t afford to lose.
—To be continued.
