15 After that day, Lucas came to see me several more times. He showed up at my father's estate the very next morning, looking like he hadn't slept, asking-almost demanding-that I reconsider. My father, to his credit, simply asked if I wanted to see him. When I said no, turned Lucas away with a firm but polite refusal. he Two days later, Lucas appeared at Shepherd Design Studio, causing a stir among my employees as he strode through the reception area with a determined expression. Victoria intercepted him before he could reach my office. "She doesn't want to see you right now," I heard her tell him through my partially open door. "I just need five minutes," Lucas insisted. "Autumn! I know you can hear me." I signaled to Victoria, who nodded and closed my office door, muffling the rest of the exchange. Later, she tol me Lucas had finally left after extracting a promise that she would give me a sealed envelope. 'Whatever's in here," Victoria said, handing me the expensive cream-colored envelope, "the man is desperate to get it to you." I took it but didn't open it, placing it in my desk drawer instead. I wasn't ready to read whatever justifications or explanations Lucas had written. The third time, he caught me outside a client meeting in downtown Northbrook. I was walking to my car whe ne stepped out from behind a pillar in the parking garage, startling me. 'Jesus, Lucas!" I gasped, nearly dropping my portfolio. "Are you stalking me now?" 'You won't return my calls," he said, his voice ragged with what sounded like a combination of frustration and ack of sleep. "You won't see me at your father's. You won't see me at your office. What choice do I have?" 'You could respect my decision," I suggested, continuing toward my car. He kept pace beside me. "I would if I believed it was what you really wanted." stopped abruptly, turning to face him. "What's that supposed to mean?" 'It means," he said, stepping closer, "that I think you're running away because you're scared. Not because you don't care anymore." His perception hit uncomfortably close to the truth, but I maintained my composure. "You don't know what I feel." 'Don't I?" His eyes searched mine, looking for something-confirmation, perhaps, that he was right. "I've seen now you look at me when you think I don't notice. I've felt how your body responds when I'm near you." Heat rose to my cheeks, both from embarrassment at being so transparent and from the intensity of his gaz 'That's just physical attraction. It doesn't mean anything." 'Doesn't it?" Lucas took another step toward me, close enough now that I could smell his cologne-the same one he'd worn since high school, a scent that still made my heart race despite everything. "Tell me you feel nothing for me, Autumn. Look me in the eyes and tell me, and I'll sign the divorce papers today." I opened my mouth, ready to say the words that would end this once and for all. But they stuck in my throat, refusing to be spoken. Lucas noticed my hesitation, a flicker of triumph passing over his face. "That's what I thought." Before I could respond, he leaned in and pressed his lips to mine in a kiss that was both tender and demanding. For a moment-one weak, traitorous moment-I kissed him back, my body responding to his as i always had. Then reality reasserted itself. I pulled away, pushing against his chest. "Stop. This doesn't change anything." 'It changes everything," he insisted. "You still feel something for me. That means there's something worth saving here." shook my head, retrieving my car keys from my purse with trembling hands. "Physical attraction isn't enough, Lucas. It never was." 'Then what would be enough?" he asked, sounding genuinely desperate to know. "Tell me what you need fror me, and I'll do it." The question caught me off guard. What did I need from him? Love? Commitment? Honesty? All the things ne'd never been able to give me because his heart belonged elsewhere? 'I need you to let me go," I said finally, the words painful but necessary. "Please, Lucas. Just... let me go." Something in my tone must have reached him, because the fight seemed to drain out of him all at once. His shoulders slumped, and for the first time since I'd known him, Lucas Bailey looked defeated. 'If that's really what you want," he said quietly. 'It is." He nodded once, stepping back to allow me to unlock my car. "I'll have my lawyer contact yours about the papers." Relief and regret mingled in my chest as I got into my car. "Thank you." It wasn't until a week later, when I was meeting with my father's lawyer to finalize the divorce agreement, that I realized how generous Lucas had been in the settlement. He'd given me everything I was entitled to under our prenuptial agreement, plus considerably more-including shares in Bailey Enterprises that would provide a substantial income for years to come. "He's being more than fair," the lawyer commented, reviewing the terms. "Usually, these negotiations get ugly, but Mr. Bailey has agreed to every request without argument." I nodded, a lump forming in my throat. Even in this, Lucas was being a better man than I'd given him credit fo Gripter 15 Final Meeting The day before we were scheduled to sign the final papers, I ran into Phoebe Graham at a small art gallery in the West End. I was there to choose pieces for a client's home; she was photographing the exhibition for a Crawford Publishing arts feature. We spotted each other across the room, mutual recognition freezing us both in place. For a moment, I considered pretending I hadn't seen her and slipping out the side exit. But that seemed cowardly, and I was tired of avoiding difficult confrontations. So instead, I walked directly toward her, watching as surprise and then wariness crossed her delicate features. "Hello, Phoebe," I said, keeping my voice neutral. "Autumn." She nodded, her grip tightening on her camera. "I didn't expect to see you here." "Likewise." An awkward silence fell between us, heavy with unspoken words and shared history. "I heard about the divorce," she said finally. "I'm sorry." The sympathy in her voice seemed genuine, which somehow made it worse. "Are you?" Phoebe's eyes widened slightly at my directness. "Yes, actually. I am." I studied her, trying to see what Lucas saw in this woman. She was beautiful, yes, but it was more than that. There was a quiet strength about her, a self-possession that I'd always admired despite myself. "That photo of you and Lucas at the restaurant," I said, unable to help myself. "Did you know someone was watching?" Phoebe scoffed, a flash of anger crossing her face. "Yeah, Lucas's cousin gave me half a million to lure Luca out, preferably with some intimate gestures. All I had to do was get a few compromising photos taken, mayb kiss him if I could." Her confession stunned me. "What?" "But he's so guarded around me," she continued, her voice bitter. "He wouldn't even let me get close. So much for the great love story, huh?" I processed this new information slowly. One of Lucas's cousins-probably James or Richard, who'd been removed from their positions-had tried to use Phoebe to sabotage Lucas right when he was taking control c the company. "Is it that he wouldn't let you, or that you didn't want to?" I asked, suddenly seeing the situation more clearly. Phoebe snapped her head up, her eyes flashing. "And what about you? He wanted to divorce you from the start, yet you still speak up for him." I said, without hesitation, "Because he truly is a good person." Even if there were misunderstandings and arguments between us, I would never forget the little kindnesses Lucas had shown me over the years. The way he'd carried me to the infirmary in high school. The careful attention he paid to my likes and dislikes. The morning coffees made exactly as I preferred them. The way he'd protected me from gossip after the chandelier incident at my birthday party. Phoebe's expression softened slightly. "You really love him, don't you?" I didn't answer directly. "Did you take the money? From his cousin?" She looked away, shame coloring her cheeks. "I needed it for my mom's medical bills. But when it came dowr to it, I couldn't go through with their plan. I just wanted to pay Lucas back the money I owed him for my mother's surgery and say goodbye properly." "And the photo?" "Someone at a nearby table. Must have been working for James." She sighed. "Lucas figured it out right away He was furious-not at me, but at them for trying to use me." I nodded, suddenly feeling very tired. "Thank you for telling me the truth." As I turned to leave, Phoebe called after me. "For what it's worth, I don't think he ever really loved me. Not the way he..." She trailed off, leaving the implication hanging. I gave her a small, sad smile. "Take care of yourself, Phoebe." Walking out of the gallery into the crisp autumn air, I felt as if a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. No because Phoebe's revelation changed anything about my decision to divorce Lucas-that still felt right-but because it confirmed what I'd always believed about him underneath all the hurt and misunderstandings. Lucas Bailey was a good man. Flawed, complicated, sometimes frustratingly opaque with his emotions, but fundamentally decent. And tomorrow, I would be signing papers to remove him from my life permanently. The thought brought a surprising pang of grief, sharp enough that I had to stop walking for a moment, pressing a hand to my chest as if I could physically contain the pain. When I reached my car, I finally opened the sealed envelope Lucas had left with Victoria weeks ago. Inside was a single sheet of paper with just a few lines written in his precise handwriting: Autumn, I understand now what I've done. I'm sorry for the pain I've caused you-for not seeing what was right in front of me all along. If you can find it in your heart to give me another chance, I'll spend every day proving that I deserve it. Yours, Lucas Chapter 15 Pihal Meeting I folded the note carefully and placed it back in the envelope, unsure what to make of it. Was this just another attempt to maintain appearances? Or had something genuinely changed between us? Either way, it was too late. The divorce papers were ready, the meeting set for tomorrow morning. After nearly two years of marriage, Lucas and I would go our separate ways, just as we'd agreed that night he stood smoking by the window of his penthouse. That night, I barely slept, my mind replaying moments from our marriage-both the painful ones and the unexpectedly tender ones. By morning, I was exhausted but resolute. Whatever happened next, I would face it with the same strength that had carried me through everything else.