Chapter 3 - The Golden Cage of London
That evening, Lucas returned to his sprawling penthouse suite at the Fairmont overlooking San Francisco Bay, but the luxury surrounding him felt like a mausoleum.
He dismissed his assistants, refused dinner, and paced across the hardwood floors with a glass of unwatered scotch in his hand. Every shadow in the room seemed to mock him.
For ten years, he had believed he had executed his life with ruthless efficiency.
When he arrived in London a decade ago, he had played the gallant savior to Alyssa. He had paid off the debts her failed fiancé had left behind, leased her a flat in Kensington, and eventually brought her back to California to become his high-society companion.
His family had celebrated. His mother had declared that "the rightful balance had finally been restored to the Albright name."
Except the fairy tale had curdled into a hollow nightmare within two years.
Alyssa didn't want a partnership; she wanted a limitless expense account. She lived for charity galas, designer showcases in Paris, and vacationing in St. Barts with trust-fund socialites. Whenever Lucas tried to discuss having children or building a quiet home life, Alyssa laughed off the suggestion, claiming that pregnancy would ruin her figure and that children were noisy interruptions to their cosmopolitan freedom.
They had lived together in an opulent, cold, childless truce. Two weeks ago, Alyssa had left for a month-long yachting excursion through the Mediterranean, not even bothering to attend the dedication of the science laboratory he had funded in his late father’s honor.
At 9:00 p.m., Lucas’s phone buzzed on the glass coffee table.
Alyssa.
Lucas stared at the screen for five full rings before swiping to answer.
"Lucas, darling," her voice chimed through the speaker, accompanied by the background thumping of electronic lounge music and clinking glasses. "I’m in Monaco with the Hamiltons. Listen, the jeweler on the boardwalk has a vintage emerald cuff from the 1920s. It’s only four hundred and fifty thousand euros. Can you have your private banking desk authorize the wire tonight? The manager is holding it until noon."
Ten years ago, that voice had sounded like music to his ears—a siren song that made him abandon his marriage without looking back.
Tonight, it sounded like cheap tin.
"No," Lucas said. His voice was flat, empty of all warmth.
The line paused. The lounge music seemed to recede. "What do you mean, no? Lucas, don't be ridiculous. It's an investment piece. Your family trust account has plenty of—"
"Did you ever want a family, Alyssa?" Lucas asked, interrupting her with a cold, piercing directness.
Alyssa let out an irritated, theatrical sigh. "Are you drunk? We’ve had this conversation fifty times. We have a wonderful life! Why ruin it with nappies, nannies, and boarding school headaches? Now please, call the private banker before—"
"I met my son today," Lucas stated.
The other end of the line went dead silent.
"What did you say?" Alyssa asked, her tone shifting instantly from glamorous flirtation to sharp, suspicious panic.
"Nora was three months pregnant the day I signed our divorce decree," Lucas explained, every word feeling like a nail driven into his own coffin. "She had the ultrasound in her bag while I was packing my luggage to fly to London to bail you out of your mess."
Alyssa let out a harsh, venomous laugh. "Oh, please! Are you actually falling for that pathetic trap? Nora was a nobody from an ordinary family! She probably got knocked up by some contractor in Arizona and waited ten years until you put your name on a school building so she could shake you down for child support! She’s playing you, Lucas!"
The venom in her words severed the final, fragile cord that had bound Lucas to his past.
"She didn't ask me for a single dollar, Alyssa," Lucas said softly. "She didn't even want me to speak to him. She walked away from my money ten years ago, and she walked away from it again today."
"Lucas, listen to me—"
"Don't come back to the San Francisco penthouse," Lucas said with chilling finality. "Your belongings will be inventoried, packed, and delivered to your mother’s estate in Pasadena by Friday. My attorney will handle the termination of our domestic partnership agreement."
"You can't do this to me!" Alyssa shrieked across the thousands of miles of ocean. "I gave you ten years of my life!"
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"And I gave you ten years that belonged to my son," Lucas replied.
He ended the call, set the phone down on the glass table, and stood alone in the dark, watching the fog roll across the bay, realizing that his entire magnificent empire was completely, utterly hollow.
