Chapter 3
After changing into his spare suit, Lucas didn't head back to the party.
Instead, he went up to the rooftop garden.
The wind was strong up there, helping to clear the smell of alcohol from his clothes.
He leaned against the railing, pulled out his cigarette pack with practiced ease, flicked one out, and clamped it between his lips.
Click.
The lighter sparked, lighting up his chiseled jaw for a second.
Smoke rose, hiding his eyes and brows in a hazy cloud.
I used to hate it when he smoked.
Every time I tried to get him to quit, he'd just blow smoke right in my face and smirk at me.
"Mind your own business, Emily," he'd snap.
Now that no one was around to bother him, he should be happy now, right?
Lucas pulled out his phone and unlocked it.
The screen lit up, and I drifted closer to see.
He only had one chat pinned at the top, saved under the name "That woman."
The profile pic was me holding a cat.
The chat was nothing but my messages, one-sided, with no replies.
Last night at 8 PM: [I mad pork ribs tonight. When are you coming home?]
Last night at 10 PM: [Dinner's cold now, I'll reheat it for you.]
1 AM: [Go easy on the booze, your stomach's not great.]
This morning at 7 AM: [Your tie's in the second drawer on the left.]
And his replies? Barely any.
[Not coming back.]
[Stop bothering me.]
[Buzz off.]
The last message was from this morning, right before he left. I sent him a transfer of three hundred thousand dollars.
It was the card he handed me earlier. I sent every penny back, even threw in a bit from my own stash.
But he never replied.
He didn't even accept it.
Lucas kept scrolling through those messages again and again, his thumb moving up and down the screen nonstop.
Normally, he'd get annoyed if I sent even one text. But now that I'm dead and haven't messaged him, he can't stop checking them.
"That woman," he muttered with the cigarette between his teeth, words barely audible.
"She doesn't want the money, and she's not even bothering to check on me.
"Guess she's hooked on playing hard to get."
He let out a cold snort, stubbed out his cigarette, and called me right away.
Beep Beep Beep
The line just kept ringing and ringing, nothing but emptiness on the other end.
My phone, just like my body, was lying cold and silent at the bottom of the river.
Of course, no one picked up.
Lucas frowned, hung up, and dialed again.
Once more, he called.
Still, nobody picked up.
Something was off about his expression now.
That usual laziness was gone, replaced by a kind of restlessness I'd never seen in him before.
He started pacing back and forth, his shoes clicking sharply against the tiles.
"Emily, you're getting bold now," he sneered.
"Daring to ignore my calls now, huh?"
Just then, the sound of high heels echoed behind him.
"Mr. Bennett." It was Chloe again.
She'd somehow followed him up, holding a man's coat, her expression just the right mix of bashfulness and care.
"It's windy up here. I was worried you might get cold," she said softly.
She walked over, trying to drape the coat over Lucas's shoulders.
Lucas was already pissed, and the busy signal on his phone was making him even more frustrated.
He spun around instinctively, dodging Chloe's hand.
His sudden move made Chloe fumble the coat, and it hit the floor.
The air went dead silent.
Chloe's smile froze, and her eyes welled up with tears.
"Mr. Bennett, I just..." her voice trembled.
"This isn't work time," Lucas cut her off, his voice icy, every word sharp as a blade.
He never even glanced at the coat lying on the floor, just stared at his phone, his thumb anxiously tracing the edge of the screen.
"And one more thing," he said.
He glanced up at her, those eyes that had been all soft and sweet at the party now cold as ice, sharp enough to cut.
"Who told you to follow me?" he snapped.
Chloe shrank back, her eyes brimming with tears.
"I, I only like you," she whispered, her voice trembling.
Lucas repeated, "Like me?" His tone was icy, and then he let out a cold, mocking laugh, as if he'd just heard the most ridiculous joke in the world.
He raised his left hand, the plain ring on his finger catching the moonlight with a chilly shine.
That was the cheapest ring we bought when we got married, but I was so happy I wore it to bed for days.
Afterwards, he said it was embarrassing and never wore it again.
No idea what got into him today, but he actually put it on.
"Take a good look," he said.
He held his hand right in front of Chloe and gave the ring a little shake.
"I'm married," he added.
He paused, his voice dropping lower, with a hint of something you couldn't quite name.
"I'm the kind of guy who gets attached to things," he said.
"Once I'm used to something, I don't like to change."
Chloe's face went ghostly pale. She covered her face and ran out, bawling her eyes out.
Lucas didn't even bother to look back at her as she ran off crying. He stuffed his phone into his pocket, irritation written all over his face.
"Damn it," he muttered under his breath.
Then he turned and strode out, his steps heavy with frustration.
"Emily, you better just be asleep," he muttered.
"If not, you're dead when I get back."
Storming out, Lucas didn't even slow down as he dialed up my boss.
I drifted behind him, watching as his steps grew faster, almost stumbling in his hurry.
A twisted sense of satisfaction bubbled up inside me.
Lucas, you were actually getting anxious now?
Relax.
You couldn't kill me anymore.