Chapter 5 - The Confrontation
The heavy oak door didn't burst open; it was unlocked smoothly with a master key card, swinging wide to reveal the imposing frame of Luke Morgan.
He stood in the doorway, drenched from the Chicago rain, his dark hair slicked back, his charcoal suit coat thrown over one arm. Behind him in the hallway stood Marco and six heavily armed security personnel, but Luke signaled with a single wave of his hand for them to stay back.
Luke stepped into the loft, his dark, piercing eyes sweeping past Elena until they locked entirely onto me.
I had seen Luke Morgan command boardrooms of multi-million-dollar corporations. I had seen him face down rival syndicate leaders with a cold, terrifying smile.
But I had never seen him look like this.
His skin was deathly pale. His dark eyes were bloodshot, rimmed with deep shadows, and his chest was heaving as though he had run ten miles through the rain.
"Elena," Luke said, his voice a low, raspy whisper that didn't sound like him at all. "Leave us."
Elena looked at me nervously, then nodded, grabbing her medical bag and squeezing her brother's arm as she walked out into the hallway, closing the door softly behind her.
Silence settled over the loft like a heavy wool blanket.
Luke took three slow, hesitant steps toward the sofa. For the first time in our three-year marriage, the untouchable king of Chicago looked completely shattered.
"Sophia..." he rasped, stopping five feet away from me, his gaze dropping down to my waist where my hands were clutched over my belly. "Is it true?"
I didn't look away. I raised my chin, keeping my posture rigid despite the trembling in my knees.
"Is what true, Luke?" I asked coldly. "That I signed divorce papers? Yes. They were delivered to your nightstand."
Luke flinched as if I had struck him across the face.
"I don't care about the goddamn divorce papers!" he roared, taking two fast strides forward, dropping heavily onto his knees right in front of my sofa, his large, calloused hands hovering inches above my lap, afraid to touch me. "Are you carrying my child?!"
Tears spilled over my eyelashes, hot and fast. "Yes."
Luke let out a sound—a choked, agonizing sob that seemed to tear straight from his lungs. He leaned his forehead forward, resting it against my knees, his broad shoulders shaking violently as he wept into the fabric of my jeans.
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"Why?" Luke choked out, looking up at me with raw, tortured eyes. "Why didn't you tell me, Sophia? Why would you hide my own child from me? Why would you go to a clinic alone to end it?!"
"Because you didn't want a family, Luke!" I shouted back, my voice cracking through the quiet room. "You wanted a quiet, obedient wife who sat in your big empty house while you ran your empire and poured wine for Vanessa Russell!"
