Chapter 155

Ten days left until the court date.

This time, he'd probably sign those divorce papers without making a scene.

No point wasting energy on old wounds, Lucie told herself. All it did was make her miserable. Better to cut her losses and draw a line under the whole mess.

It was all over anyway. She'd taken her share of heartbreak, and there was nothing to be gained from picking at the scab. There was no such thing as a cure for regret. Instead of letting anger eat her alive, she decided it was time to set herself free.

She pulled out her phone and called Steven.

The phone rang a few times before he answered, his voice a little shaky. "Hey."

Lucie didn't bother with small talk. "Steven, I'm coming to get my car. Text me the address and I'll send someone to pick it up."

Steven's chest tightened. "Or... I could bring it to you?"

Clearly, he was desperate for any excuse to see her, even if it was just for a second.

"There's no need," Lucie said, her tone flat. "Just send me the address. I'll get it myself."

Steven hesitated. "Or... I could have someone drop it off at the antique market, if that's easier?"

Lucie paused, thinking it over. "Fine. That works."

"Alright, I'll have it delivered. The keys will be at the front desk."

"Okay."

"That's it, then." Lucie was ready to hang up.

"Lucie," Steven blurted out, "aren't you going to say anything else?"

She hesitated.

“I'm sorry,” he said, voice low. “I know I hurt you. If you want anything in the divorce, just say the word."

Lucie frowned, her voice cold as ice. "I don't want anything. That's it."

She hung up.

She'd already accepted it. Whatever he tried to offer now, she just didn't care. All she wanted was for this to be over, fast and clean, so she could move on.

She didn't even want to hate him. Hating someone took energy, and that came from love. She wasn't willing to admit she'd ever loved him, so he wasn't worth her hate.

***

That afternoon, Steven showed up in person with her white Cayenne.

"I'd like to give Lucie the keys myself," he told Ruby at the front desk.

Ruby stepped in his way. "Ms. Anderson said to leave the keys here." “She's busy, and she doesn't want to see anyone right now."

Steven's heart twisted. "Alright then."

He handed over the keys and left.

A little while later, Ruby brought the keys to Lucie in her office. "Ms. Anderson, Mr. Heath just dropped off your car. Here are the keys."

"Thanks. Just leave them there."

"Of course. I'll head out."

Once Ruby left, Lucie buried herself in her restoration work. She kept at it until seven that evening, so focused she barely noticed her own exhaustion.

Her phone buzzed. It was her grandfather.

"Hi, Grandpa."

"Lucie, what have you been up to? You haven't been home in days," he said, worry clear in his voice.

"I'm working on a restoration project, Grandpa."

"You can't wear yourself out like that. Come home tonight-I made soup for you." "Grandpa..."

"I miss you. Come home, okay?"

Lucie hesitated, but finally caved. "Alright, I'll come home now."

"Good. I'll wait for you."

"Okay."

After hanging up, Lucie packed up her things and got ready to head home for

dinner. She grabbed her car keys on the way out.

Down in the parking garage, she

unlocked the white Cayenne and slid

behind the wheel. It was her

eighteenth birthday present from

Grandpa, her very first car, and still

the one she liked to drive the most.

She started the engine, put it in gear, and pulled out. The repairs had been done

well; it felt just as smooth as always.

About ten minutes later, Lucie was cruising down the highway.

The Anderson family home was a

big villa on a hill, well outside the et

city. The drive from the antique than thirty miles

market was more

about half an hour on the highway.

She settled into the drive. Up ahead, a car suddenly swerved and sped past.

Lucie's reflexes kicked in; she slammed on the brakes.

Nothing happened.

The car didn't slow down at all.

Panic spiked through her. She pumped the brake pedal, once, twice, three times.

Still nothing. If anything, the car was speeding up.

She was closing in fast on the car ahead. Cold sweat trickled down her forehead as she yanked the steering. wheel left and shot past, narrowly missing it.

The other driver blared their horn and shouted, "Are you crazy? Trying to get yourself killed?"

Lucie's car kept accelerating. She glanced down-the speedometer read 120 miles an hour.

Her hands were locked tight on the wheel, sweat dripping down her face. She tried every emergency maneuver she could think of.

Nothing worked. The car just kept flying down the highway, completely out of her control.