Too Late She Already Married Mr. Right (Sophia) novel Chapter 38

Lucas’s face softened. His hand covered Emily’s, a gesture so intimate it could slice through steel. “You’re too kind,” he murmured. “While you’re under my roof, you get everything you need.”

“Why are you so good to me?” Emily whispered, eyes glistening like she’d just met Jesus in a suit.

Watching their performance, Sophia felt something cold and sharp settle in her chest. “Quite the show,” she said flatly. “Maybe you should seal it with a marriage proposal.”

Emily gasped, cheeks flaming. “I–I only see Lucas as a brother!”

“Right,” Sophia said, standing. “And I’m the Easter Bunny. Whatever helps you sleep at night, girl.”

Something flickered in Lucas’s eyes, a momentary spark that surprised even himself. Her defiance, her cool dismissal, struck a chord he couldn’t quite explain.

He pushed the egg plate back. “Emily’s generous. Eat.”

Sophia’s fork clinked against her plate. “I’m done.”

“Like hell you are.” Lucas’s tone brooked no argument. “Finish the food or I’ll feed you myself, spoon by spoon, if necessary”

Her spine straightened. Years of submission crystallized into pure, molten defiance. “Watching you two makes me sick.”

“Sophia!” The name exploded from Lucas like a gunshot. “Can’t you go one moment without trying to destroy everything?”

She met his gaze, unflinching. “You won’t let me leave. You’re disgusted by my presence. Which is it? Newsflash, Lucas. The universe doesn’t orbit your ego. It just smells like it does.”

If the divorce papers were finalized, she’d already be tail–lights. Instead, she was stuck in this soap–opera rerun.

The room vibrated with tension. Lucas saw something new in her. She was not the submissive wife, but a woman with razor- sharp edges. Something dangerous. Something intriguing.

‘Soon,‘ he told himself. ‘Soon she’d be carrying my kid, and chemistry would do the rest, hormones chaining her tighter than any ring. Then we’d see how sharp those claws stayed.’

Sophia caught the predatory glint in his eyes. A chill ran down her spine. Whatever he was plotting, it couldn’t be good.

She stared at the cold egg congealing on the plate and wished the clock would fast–forward. The second that judge stamped her single again, she’d ghost so hard they’d need sonar to find her.

After dinner, Lucas headed upstairs to change. At six–foot–two, he had a model’s build. Everything looked good on him.

He’d put on a custom–tailored suit and spent an extra five minutes in front of the mirror. He pictured the scene downstairs: Sophia on the couch, eyes magnetized the second he stepped into view.

She used to practically drool when he wore the navy three–piece. Today, he’d make her remember that hunger.

With this in mind, he even slowed his steps as he descended the stairs. A practiced tilt of his head showcased his best profile -a calculated move designed to utterly captivate Sophia.

But he got nothing. Sophia was binge–watching a comedy series, laughing out loud, completely oblivious to Lucas standing

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there.

Lucas felt the hit like a missed step. Seriously? he thought. Td basically gift–wrapped myself, and she is scrolling memes?

It wasn’t until a hand snatched her phone away, cutting off her entertainment, that she finally looked up and glared. “Give that back. She lunged.

He caught her wrist, fingers circling bone and irritation. “Hospital. Now.”

His touch felt slick, reptilian. She yanked free. “I can walk without the manhandling, thanks.”

Lucas’s smile was pure razor. “Keep up the ice–queen act, sweetheart. Push too far and you’ll find out how fast thin ice

cracks.

He closed the distance in two strides, fingers manacling her wrist. “This isn’t a negotiation. You are getting examined.”

“Not happening.” She dug in, heels skimming polished tile.

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A side door whisked open. A woman in her thirties stepped out. It was Dr. Samantha Mosley. “Room is ready. Mr. Westwood. Mrs. Westwood, right this way.”

A violent tremor ran through Sophia. If he wouldn’t let her go now, thinking she was infertile, discovering the pregnancy

would chain her to him forever.

“I won’t do it. Lucas, for God’s sake, listen to me. I don’t want the treatment, and I don’t want to have your child!” she cried. her voice fraying at the edges.

His eyes went arctic. “Walk, or I carry you bridal–style and let the entire floor watch.”

Teeth gritted, she leaned in until her breath fogged his tie. “Keep pushing, and the only thing I’ll ever carry restraining order.”

For a beat, they stood locked. Then Lucas’s gaze narrowed. “You’re terrified of a simple scan. Why?”

A chill seized her spine. She said nothing.

for

you

“Unless…” A slow, wicked smile curved his mouth. “Unless the infertility story is bullshit and you’re already knocked up.”