Chapter 2
I had always thought that after one died, there was just nothing.
But I was dead wrong.
Instead, I turned into this weightless wisp, just floating around with zero control over where I went.
Guess I was too hung up on Lucas, because somehow, I drifted straight into his celebration party.
The place was all glitz and gold, the heating cranked up so high it was almost suffocating.
But I still felt a chill deep down.
Lucas was sitting at the head of the table, wearing that custom-tailored suit I used to run my hands over.
He swirled his wine glass, wearing that practiced smile, listening to all the flattery around him.
That effortless confidence made him look like a king, glowing in the spotlight.
Anyone who didn't know what was really going on in his head would think he was the perfect gentleman.
But I knew better. Right now, he was probably bored out of his mind.
He absolutely hated these kinds of phony events where everyone was just pretending.
"Here's to you, Mr. Bennett," a coy, sugary voice rang out.
I turned and saw Chloe walking over, with a wine glass in hand.
She was wearing a white dress, her long hair draped over her shoulders. Honestly, she did look a bit like I used to back in the day.
But that was it; just the looks, nothing more.
As she walked up to Lucas, her foot suddenly slipped.
She gasped and ended up right in his arms.
Red wine splashed everywhere, spreading a dark red stain across Lucas's pricey shirt.
Everyone gasped.
Everyone knew Lucas was obsessed with cleanliness. Last time, an investor accidentally brushed his sleeve, and Lucas immediately shot them a death glare.
I floated above, waiting for Lucas to lose it.
But nothing happened.
Instead, his long, strong hand caught Chloe by the waist, steadying her.
His fingers even gently caressed her side for a moment, almost tender.
"Careful," Lucas murmured.
His voice was low and magnetic, with a trace of tenderness.
"Are you hurt?" he asked.
Chloe's cheeks flushed deep red, like a ripe tomato. She steadied herself, her eyes shyly meeting his as she looked up.
"Sorry, Mr. Bennett, I got your shirt dirty," she mumbled.
"It's fine," Lucas replied.
He released her, a faint smile tugging at his lips, his eyes crinkling with that signature charm.
"It's just a shirt, I can always change," Lucas said.
"But if you got hurt, I'd really feel bad," he added with a soft smile.
The crowd started teasing and making noise.
"Whoa, Mr. Bennett, already playing the knight in shining armor?"
"Guess the rumors are true after all!"
Chloe blushed and lowered her head, but her fingers secretly tugged at the hem of Lucas's shirt.
Watching them, I felt this emptiness where my heart should be, and for some reason, it just hurt so much.
So it was never about him being a clean freak.
He just couldn't stand me.
See? He was so gentle with her. Why was he never like that with me?
Lucas took the napkin from the waiter and wiped the stain off his shirt without a second thought.
"I'll go change," he said.
He gave everyone a slight nod and headed for the lounge.
Chloe tried to follow, but he held up a hand, stopping her in her tracks.
"Just wait here and be good," he said.
"Be good."
After ten years together, all I ever got from him was "Hey," "You," or he'd call me by my full name, "Emily Carter."
I wanted to let out a bitter laugh at myself, but I couldn't even force a smile anymore.
I drifted after him into the lounge.
The moment the door closed behind him, the smile on Lucas's face disappeared without a trace.
In its place was a cold, menacing glare that sent chills down my spine.
He yanked off his tie and slammed it to the floor.
Then he ripped off the shirt stained with red wine and threw it straight into the trash without a second thought.
"Absolutely filthy," Lucas muttered.
His voice was icy, sharp enough to cut.
Then he stormed into the bathroom and turned on the faucet.
In that instant, I saw him grab the hand sanitizer and scrub his hand like a madman, desperate to wipe away any trace of Chloe.
Over and over.
He scrubbed his hand so hard it turned bright red, and even started to bleed.
But he just wouldn't stop.
His brows were twisted tight, like he'd just come in contact with some nasty virus.
I drifted behind him, tilting my head as I watched.
Lucas, what kind of act were you putting on now?
First you had acted all sweet and loving, then you had turned around and acted like it was gross. It was all you.
Seriously, you were messed up.
He scrubbed for a full ten minutes.
Only then did he turn off the faucet and grab a paper towel to dry his hands.
He looked up at his reflection in the mirror, his face completely blank.
But his eyes were bottomless, like a swirling abyss.
"Emily," Lucas suddenly called out, staring at his reflection in the mirror.
My heart skipped a beat. Did he actually see me?
But he was only staring into nothingness, grabbing his hair in frustration.
"It's so late. Why hasn't she called me yet?" he muttered.