86 (Lucian’s POV) Martha’s Desperation
Lucian
“What have you been doing with all the money you’ve been getting?” I asked, cold and direct. “Father still buys your clothes. I redid your closet when I redid Mara’s. You don’t run a business, you have no responsibilities. So where is it all going, Martha?”
She wiped at her tears with the back of her hand, but when she looked up, her face was stone. “I’m not answering that,”
she said stiffly.
I nodded, unsurprised. “Then this conversation is over.”
I turned to leave.
“Don’t you dare walk away from me, Lucian!” she barked.
I didn’t flinch. “Take it up with your mate.”
3
Just then, Mara stepped in and gently placed a hand on my arm-right where my Alpha Mark was beginning to sting from the surge of anger. She knew. She always knew.
“Easy, Lucian,” she whispered. “She’s your stepmother.”
She wrapped her arms around me, grounding me with that simple, soft gesture.
I took a breath.
“Martha,” I said more calmly, “you need to discuss your financial needs with my father. That’s the proper channel. Not me.”
“Vander won’t help me,” she said, her voice cracking. “You know he won’t.”
Lacy stepped beside her, hugging her like a child trying to hold up a crumbling pillar.
“Don’t cry, please. We’ll survive,” she murmured.
It was dramatic. Strange. Like this wasn’t just about greed anymore-this was fear. But why the hell was it my problem?
Martha’s eyes met mine again, desperate and stripped of pride.
“Please, Lucian. I’ve tried everything I can…”
Then, quietly-so quietly I almost missed it-Mara asked, “Luna Martha… are you in trouble?”
Martha’s head snapped toward her. Her face twisted.
“Easy for you to ask,” she spat. “You have everything.”
And there it was again-that simmering hate she always aimed at Mara, rooted in something deeper than jealousy.
“Let’s go,” I told Mara, fed up.
We turned to leave.
“Someone is blackmailing me, Lucian!” Martha shouted.
I froze.
She was breathing hard, like the words themselves had torn something open.
I turned around slowly. Her face was pale, but this wasn’t another performance. She looked wrecked.
“Someone is blackmailing me,” she repeated, her voice breaking. “If I don’t pay, he says he’ll destroy me.”
She wiped at her eyes again, her pride visibly cracking.
“Twenty-three years.”
My blood ran cold.
“Twenty-three years?” I repeated. “What the hell did you do, Martha, that someone could hold over your head for that
long?”
She stayed silent.
Staring at the ground.
“Martha,” I said, stepping forward, “what did you do?”
She said nothing.
Just lifted her eyes and whispered, “Please, Lucian. Help me.”
That was the moment I knew she wasn’t lying-because Martha was the last person who would ever ask me for help unless she had no other cards left to play.
Whatever this was… it was big.
And for the first time, I didn’t see a manipulative woman.
I saw someone drowning.
“Whatever you did,” I said, voice like stone, “you better come clean to my father. Because I’m not giving you a damn cent.”
I turned and walked away.
Behind me, Martha broke down, loud and dramatic. Lacy rushed to comfort her, as if that would change anything. I didn’t
flinch. I didn’t turn around.
If someone had been blackmailing her for twenty-three years and she still chose silence, lies, and theft over the truth, then she deserved to be broke. Maybe then, finally, the bleeding would stop.
Whatever she did-it was better it came out. Secrets like that don’t stay buried. And if she kept hiding, she’d rot from the
inside out.
Walking away wasn’t cruelty. It was mercy. The kind that stings before it heals.
Mara and I got into the car. I took the keys from the driver and slid behind the wheel. She climbed into the passenger seat
beside me, quiet.
Just as I started the engine, she spoke.
“I think you should help her, Lucian.”
I turned to her, stunned. “You what?”
“I know I sound crazy,” she said, her voice soft but sure. “But you’re the last person she’d ever show weakness to. And she
did. Whatever it is… it’s eating her alive. That woman is backed into a corner.”
I let out a short, bitter laugh.
“She better go cry in that corner with her mate.”
I pulled away from the mansion without another word.
I didn’t owe Martha anything. Not sympathy. Not trust. She’d betrayed my father, tried to break Mara, and now she
2/3
195, 1 Joan & Pov) Martha’s Desperation.
expected me to clean up whatever mess she’d been hiding for more than two decades?
No. Not my problem.
Let the person blackmailing her rot with her secrets. Let them both know she no longer had access to the coffers of Steel Corp. That train had stopped running.
We arrived at our home-our home-and two staff members Austin had sent were already waiting. A kind, quiet couple who moved efficiently and spoke only when necessary. Perfect. No drama. No history.
Mara stepped out of the car, her smile blooming like morning sunlight. I could feel her excitement radiating off her.
We stood outside the house, taking it in. A real beginning..
I moved behind her, wrapped my arms around her waist, and kissed her neck, breathing her in like oxygen.
“Thank you, Mara,” I whispered.
She turned to look at me, eyebrows raised. “For what?”
“For bringing colour into my world.”
And then I kissed her. Deep, slow, like she was the only thing I’d ever been sure of.
Then I scooped her up in my arms, bridal style, and carried her inside.
For the first time in a long, long time-we were home.
500
97 Our New Home
