Bonus Chapter: Five Years Later
The sound of small feet pattering across hardwood floors wakes me before the sunrise does. I smile without opening my eyes, mentally counting down. Three…
two… one…
“Mommy! Daddy! It’s morning time!”
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Our bedroom door flies open, and a tiny blonde tornado launches herself onto our king–sized bed. Lucas, always the lighter sleeper, catches our daughter mid–flight
and rolls her between us.
“Emma Bennett,” he growls playfully, “the sun isn’t even up yet.”
“But I am!” she giggles, her blue eyes–so much like her father’s–wide and alert. At three–and–a–half, Emma has perfected the art of being absolutely impossible to resist, especially for Lucas, who has been wrapped around her finger since the
moment she was born.
“Five more minutes,” I plead, pulling the silk sheets over my head.
Emma tunnels under them to find me. “But Mommy, today is the special day. You
promised!”
Right. The gallery opening. My first major exhibition at the Louvre, showcasing the “Phoenix Collection“-the line that put Sophie Bennett Designs on the map of high–end jewelry. What started as a small collaboration with Cartier has, in five years, evolved into an internationally recognized luxury brand.
“I didn’t forget, sweetheart,” I assure her, finally opening my eyes to take in her excited face. “But the gallery doesn’t open until this afternoon.”
“Which means,” Lucas says, scooping Emma up, “that Mommy needs her rest if she’s going to dazzle all of Paris later.” He drops a kiss on my forehead. “We’ll start breakfast. Join us when you’re ready.”
As they leave, Emma chattering about pancakes and what dress she plans to wear to the exhibition, I stretch luxuriously in the massive bed. Morning sunlight filters through the floor–to–ceiling windows of our Paris penthouse, illuminating the framed sketch on my nightstand–the original design for the intertwined flames pendant that became the signature piece of my first collection.
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Five years. Sometimes it feels like just yesterday that I was running from Ethan, agreeing to marry a stranger out of desperation and spite. Other times, that life seems like a distant dream, something that happened to someone else.
I hear Lucas laughing in the kitchen, followed by Emma’s delighted squeals. The sounds of my family—my real family, built on honesty and mutual respect. On love that came unexpectedly but grew stronger with each passing day.
By the time I join them, Lucas has made Emma’s pancakes in the shape of butterflies and is listening with exaggerated seriousness as she explains why purple is definitively the best color.
“Good morning,” he says when he sees me, his eyes warming in that way that still makes my heart skip. Five years, two houses, one child, and countless nights together, and Lucas still looks at me like I’m a miracle he’s afraid might disappear. “Coffee?” He holds out a mug–black, just how I like it.
“You’re a lifesaver.” I take it gratefully, breathing in the rich aroma before sipping. “Mommy, Daddy says we can go to the carousel before your fancy jewelry party,” Emma informs me, syrup dripping down her chin.
I raise an eyebrow at Lucas. “Did he now?”
He shrugs, unrepentant. “I thought we’d make a day of it. Jardin des Tuileries, carousel ride, maybe ice cream before we head to the gallery. Emma’s never seen
Paris in the spring.”
“You’re spoiling her,” I say without heat. Lucas’s devotion to our daughter, his determination to give her the stable, loving childhood he never had, is one of the
countless reasons I fall more in love with him every day.
“Like you don’t,” he counters, wiping syrup from Emma’s face with a napkin. It’s true. We both dote on her, though we try to balance the privilege of her upbringing with real–world perspective. Unlike many children of wealth, Emma attends a regular preschool, has chores appropriate for her age, and is being raised with an awareness of how fortunate she is.
After breakfast, we get ready for our day in the city. Lucas helps Emma pick out a
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purple dress–naturally–while I select a simple Chanel shift that will transition well from day to evening.
“You look beautiful,” Lucas says from the doorway of our bedroom, watching me apply minimal makeup. “Nervous about tonight?”
“A little,” I admit. “It’s not every day your work gets displayed at the Louvre.” He comes up behind me, hands resting on my shoulders. “They’re lucky to have
you. Your work belongs among the masterpieces.”
“You’re biased,” I laugh, but lean back against him, drawing strength from his steady presence.
“Very,” he agrees, pressing a kiss to the side of my neck. “Doesn’t make it less
true.”
We spend the morning as tourists in the city we visit several times a year. Emma
rides the carousel three times, her laughter carrying across the garden. We eat ice cream by the fountain, Lucas teaching her to count in French, me sketching idly in the small notebook I always carry.
Around two o’clock, Lucas checks his watch. “We should head back to get ready for
the exhibition.”
“One more carousel ride, please Daddy?” Emma begs, her small hands clasped
dramatically.
“Your mother has a very important event,” he begins, but I shake my head.
“One more ride won’t hurt. I’ll meet you both at the apartment.”
Lucas eyes me suspiciously. “What are you up to?”
“Nothing,” I say innocently. “Just thought I’d take a small detour first.”
His expression tells me he doesn’t believe me, but he doesn’t press the issue. “Don’t be late, Mrs. Bennett.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, Mr. Bennett.”
I watch them head toward the carousel, Emma skipping beside her father, her small hand engulfed in his much larger one. The sight still makes my heart swell,
even after all this time.
Once they’re out of sight, I exit the gardens in the opposite direction, heading for a
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small café a few blocks away. The staff know me, nodding respectfully as I enter and make my way to a corner table partially obscured by a decorative screen.
He’s already there, of course. Punctuality was always his strong suit.
“Sophie,” Jake rises from his seat to embrace me. “You look radiant. Married life
clearly agrees with you.”
“Motherhood too,” I reply, kissing his cheek before sitting down. “How long have
you been in Paris?”
“Just got in this morning. Lucas arranged the jet.”
My brother has aged well in the past five years. At thirty–eight, he’s finally begun to settle down, running the European branch of the family business while dating a
lovely French economist he met at a conference last year.
“And how is my favorite niece?” he asks as the waiter brings coffee.
“Your only niece is perfect. Too smart for her own good, just like her father.”
Jake laughs. “And stubborn like her mother.”
We catch up briefly–his work, my upcoming exhibition, family gossip. But I can tell something’s on his mind.
“Out with it,” I finally say. “What’s bothering you?”
Jake sets down his coffee cup, his expression turning serious. “I saw him
yesterday.”
I don’t need to ask who “him” is.
“Lucas took me to the facility. I wasn’t sure I wanted to go, but…” He shrugs.
“Morbid curiosity, I guess.”
Five years ago, after Ethan’s accident, Lucas arranged for him to be transferred to an exclusive long–term care facility outside Paris. Multiple surgeries failed to restore function to his lower body, leaving him permanently wheelchair–bound. The last I heard, Walton Investment Group had been absorbed by a competitor following Ethan’s reckless management and the scandal of Ava’s suicide. “How is he?” I ask, surprising myself with how little emotion the question evokes.
“A shadow,” Jake says bluntly. “Bitter. Angry. Ranting about conspiracies and how Lucas destroyed his life.” He studies my face. “Does it bother you? Knowing Lucas
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keeps him there, watching your success from afar?”
I consider the question carefully. In the early days of our marriage, I’d found Lucas’s calculated vengeance toward Ethan disturbing at times. Not because I felt Ethan deserved better, but because I wasn’t used to such cold, deliberate
retribution.
“No,” I finally answer. “It used to, a little. But I’ve come to understand that this is
who Lucas is. He protects what’s his, and he does it thoroughly.”
“That’s one way of putting it,” Jake murmurs.
“He’s never lied to me about it,” I point out. “From the beginning, he’s been honest
about his darker impulses. And he’s never directed them at me or Emma.” Jake nods slowly. “I’ve never seen a man more devoted to his family, that’s for sure. The way he looks at you and Emma… it’s like you’re his entire world.”
“We are,” I say simply. “Just as he’s ours.”
After finishing our coffee, Jake walks me back toward our apartment, his arm looped through mine.
“Are you coming to the exhibition tonight?” I ask.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world. Lucas mentioned something about a private dinner
afterward at that three–star place you love?”
“That’s supposed to be a surprise,” I chide him, though I’m not really surprised. Lucas loves arranging elaborate celebrations for my accomplishments.
“Oops.” Jake grins unrepentantly. “Forget I said anything.”
At the corner near our building, he gives me a final hug. “I’m proud of you, Soph.
Not just for the exhibition or the business success, but for finding real happiness. After Ethan, I wasn’t sure you’d trust anyone again.”
“Neither was I,” I admit. “But Lucas made it easy.”
“Easy isn’t the word I’d use to describe your husband,” Jake laughs. “But right for you? Absolutely.”
Back at the apartment, I find Lucas helping Emma into her party dress, his large hands surprisingly deft with the tiny buttons.
“Did you enjoy your coffee with Jake?” he asks without looking up.
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I’m not surprised he knew. “It was nice. Apparently, you took him to see Ethan.” Lucas’s hands pause momentarily before resuming their task. “I did.”
“Why?” I’m curious rather than upset.
He finishes the last button before answering. “Jake needed closure too. He blamed himself for introducing Ethan into our lives, for not seeing what was happening to
you sooner.”
The explanation makes perfect sense. Lucas has always been attuned to psychological needs, even ones people don’t articulate themselves.
“There,” he says to Emma, giving her a gentle pat. “All finished. Go show Mommy how beautiful you look.”
Emma twirls in her purple dress, her blonde curls bouncing. “Do I look fancy
enough for the jewelry party, Mommy?”
“Absolutely perfect,” I assure her, kneeling to her level. “You’re going to be the most beautiful girl there.”
“Except for you,” she says with the absolute certainty only a child can muster.
I laugh, hugging her close. “I love you, sweet girl.”
“Love you infinity,” she replies, our standard exchange.
Over her head, I meet Lucas’s gaze. “And I love you,” I tell him.
His eyes soften. “Enough to forgive me for showing Jake our private
arrangements?”
“There’s nothing to forgive,” I assure him. “It was the right thing to do.”
Relief flickers across his face. Even after five years, Lucas occasionally expects me
to recoil from his darker tendencies. As if the methodical way he dismantled
Ethan’s life might eventually drive me away from him.
He doesn’t understand that I’ve long since accepted all of him–the ruthless strategist and the tender father, the calculating businessman and the passionate lover. Lucas Bennett is a complex man with sharp edges, but he’s mine, wholly and
completely.
Just as I am his.
The exhibition is everything I hoped for and more. The Phoenix Collection gleams
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under perfect lighting, each piece telling part of the story of my rebirth after Ethan
—from the ashes of a relationship built on lies to the soaring freedom of one
founded on truth.
Lucas stays close throughout the evening, his hand at the small of my back as we greet museum directors, fashion editors, and jewelry collectors. Emma charms everyone she meets, proudly informing anyone who will listen that “My mommy
makes the prettiest jewelry in the whole world.”
The highlight of the collection, displayed in its own illuminated case, is the intertwined flames pendant—now recreated in platinum, diamonds, and rubies. Next to it, a small plaque explains its symbolism: two flames, one protecting the other, eternally entwined.
“It’s us,” Lucas murmurs in my ear as we stand before it. “The way you saw us from
the beginning.”
“Yes,” I agree, leaning into him. “Even before I fully understood what we would
become.”
Later, after the private dinner Jake spoiled the surprise of, after we’ve put an exhausted Emma to bed with promises of croissants in the morning, Lucas and I
stand on the terrace of our penthouse, looking out over the Paris skyline.
“I have something for you,” he says, producing a slim leather box from his pocket. “A little congratulations gift.”
Inside is a bracelet of intricately woven platinum threads, each culminating in a
small flame accent. It’s exquisite craftsmanship–masterful, really.
“Lucas, it’s beautiful,” I breathe, running my fingers over the detailed work.
“I had it made by that Italian jeweler you admire,” he explains. “Based on your original sketch, with a few modifications.”
I look closer and notice that tiny diamonds are embedded within the flames–and
inside the largest one, three small birthstones: mine, Lucas’s, and Emma’s. “It’s perfect,” I tell him, offering my wrist so he can fasten it on.
His fingers linger on my pulse point. “I’m proud of you, Sophie. What you’ve built,
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who you’ve become–it’s extraordinary.”
“I couldn’t have done it without you,” I say truthfully. Lucas’s support has been unwavering, from the first Cartier introduction to the investment in my own atelier
to his endless encouragement of my creative vision.
“Yes, you could have,” he contradicts me gently. “You’d have found your way
eventually. I just made the path a little smoother.”
“More than a little,” I argue, but he shakes his head.
“The talent, the vision, the determination–those were always yours.” His thumb
traces the curve of my wrist. “I merely recognized what was already there.” That’s Lucas—always seeing me more clearly than I sometimes see myself. It’s been the foundation of our relationship from the beginning. Not blind adoration
or idealization, but clear–eyed appreciation of who I really am.
“I have something to tell you,” I say, turning to face him fully. “I was going to wait,
make some grand announcement, but…”
His expression sharpens with interest. “What is it?”
I take his hand and place it gently on my still–flat stomach. “Emma’s getting a sibling. In about seven months.”
For a moment, Lucas goes absolutely still. Then a smile breaks across his face–not his usual controlled expression, but something open and joyful and a little bit
vulnerable.
“You’re sure?” he asks, his voice thick with emotion.
“Confirmed it yesterday. I know we talked about waiting another year, but-”
He cuts me off with a kiss, deep and thorough, his hands cradling my face as if I’m
something infinitely precious.
“Thank you,” he whispers against my lips.
“For what?”
“For this life. For our family. For choosing me, every day.”
I wrap my arms around his neck, pressing my body against his. “Best decision I ever made.”
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Later that night, as Lucas sleeps beside me, his hand resting protectively over my stomach, I think about the journey that brought us here. The pain and betrayal
with Ethan that seemed unbearable at the time but now feels like a necessary
detour on the path to where I was always meant to be.
I think about Ethan too, watching our lives unfold from the confines of his wheelchair, consumed by bitterness and regret. I should probably feel something -pity, perhaps, or lingering anger. But the truth is, I feel nothing for him anymore.
He’s a closed chapter, a lesson learned.
Lucas stirs beside me, his arm tightening around my waist.
“Sleep,” he murmurs, not fully awake. “Take care of our little one.”
I press a kiss to his shoulder, settling back against him. This is my life now— successful, secure, filled with love both fierce and gentle. Far from the girl who hid in someone else’s shadow for seven years, afraid to demand what she deserved. As I drift toward sleep, I find myself profoundly grateful for everything–even the heartbreak that led me here. To this man. This family. This life that exceeded every
dream I never dared to have.
Whatever flames tried to destroy me only ended up forging me stronger.
And Lucas, with his own dangerous fire, has been there all along, not to consume me, but to illuminate my path forward.
Together, we burn brighter than either of us ever could alone.
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