At the sight of her, the card players scrambled, snatching up their jackets and fleeing so fast they left their winnings scattered across the table.

Killian Daniels remained frozen in his chair. Seeing the raw, bloodshot rage in Luciana’s eyes, he forced a shaky smile.

"Luciana? When did you get back? Where’s the little one? Why didn't he come with you?" He tried to sound casual, gesturing vaguely. "My friends were just messing around, you know how men get when they're blowing off steam—"

He reached out, his hand trembling as he tried to grab hers, but Luciana recoiled as if he were diseased. She stared at him, her expression colder than anything he had ever seen.

"Blowing off steam?" she repeated, her voice dripping with venom. "Was it just 'blowing off steam' when you lied about being sterile because of that accident? Was it 'blowing off steam' when you planted those classified documents to frame Alan and force him out of our home?"

Killian’s jaw worked, but no words came. He tried to pivot. "They’re full of it. They’re just jealous because I’ve been the one by your side all these years—"

"Why would they be jealous of you?" Luciana cut him off, her voice sharp as a razor. "The position of head of the household you were bragging about—did that come from them, or did you gloat about it yourself?"

Her mind flashed to her grandson, currently hooked up to an IV drip in the hospital, and then to the memory of Alan being subjected to that humiliating security search. A sharp, burning pain tightened in her chest, as if a blade were twisting deep inside.

Panic surged through Killian. He lunged forward, grabbing her hands, his voice cracking. "Luciana, please, listen to me! I only did it because I love you! I was terrified of losing you. Alan didn’t understand anything—he would have just dragged your career into the dirt. I’m the only one who truly resonates with your soul!"

"Resonates with my soul?"

Luciana shoved him back with a strength that took them both by surprise.

"Is your version of 'soul resonance' letting my grandson wither away in a hospital bed while you sit here smoking and playing cards?"

She looked at the man who had played the role of the refined, cultured professional for decades, and for the first time, she felt a profound sense of physical nausea.

"Luciana, you can't do this to me. Think about everything that happened back then—"

"I am thinking about it," Luciana said, looming over him. Her eyes were hard, fixed like a predatory animal’s. "And I’m going to investigate every single piece of it. Killian, you’d better pray these rumors are nothing more than drunken lies."

Killian collapsed into a heap on the floor, the blood draining from his face until he was ghost-white. He knew Luciana. He knew that once the filter of his 'heroic sacrifice' was stripped away, she would dismantle his entire life with the same precision she used in her laboratory.

Three days later, she dropped a thick file onto his lap.

"Thirty years ago, a year before you joined the classified project, you had a routine physical in your hometown," she said, her voice terrifyingly steady. "The medical report is explicit. Congenital infertility. You were never capable of fatherhood."

Killian’s lips quivered. He couldn't find his voice. "I don't know... I don't know what you're talking about..."

"You know exactly what I’m talking about." Luciana stepped closer, grabbing him by the collar and hauling him up. "The 'injury' that left you sterile was a lie. You took advantage of a minor laboratory accident, rushed in, and staged yourself as the victim. You’ve been living on a debt I’ve been paying for thirty years! You made me spend thirty years wronging Alan!"

Killian choked, struggling to breathe as she tightened her grip.

"And the schematics," she hissed, stepping into his space. "I reconstructed the blind spots in our home’s security system. You were careful, but the reflection in the glass caught you, Killian. You slipped those documents into a book and walked them right out the door."

She looked at him with utter revulsion, as if examining a parasitic specimen.

"You bought a troll farm to bury Alan under a mountain of hate online, just to convince me he lacked vision. You are truly, utterly depraved."

Killian stared at the evidence, his expression shifting from terror to a jagged, broken sneer. He stopped pretending.

"So what if I did?" he screamed, his voice raw. "If I hadn’t, would you have ever looked at me? You’ve always felt guilty about that home of yours! You’ve always had a soft spot for that useless old man!"

"I slaved away in the desert with you! I stayed up for weeks running those simulations! Why didn't I deserve you?"

"So you destroyed his life?" Luciana’s eyes burned with tears. "Do you have any idea how much he suffered waiting for me? Before I left, he had already passed his university entrance exams. He was a brilliant man, a writer, a scholar!"

"Who cares!" Killian snarled, his face twisting into a mask of spite. "Alan is gone. He’s penniless and old. He’s not coming back! Now, it’s just us. The kids respect me. If you keep quiet and I keep quiet, we can go back to how things were. You’re the legendary Dr. Moore, and I’m your only partner."

The mere mention of being his partner made Luciana gag. She shoved him away, disgusted by the very air he breathed.

"Partner? Killian, you don't even deserve to walk on the same sidewalk as me." She closed her eyes, refusing to look at his pathetic, trembling frame. "I’ve already submitted the files regarding your theft of classified property to the authorities. Enjoy your time in federal prison."

Killian went limp, his eyes glazing over. "You’re going to ruin me? Luciana, you’re going to throw away my entire legacy for the sake of a man who did nothing but cook dinner?"

Luciana walked to the door, pausing with her hand on the frame. She didn't turn back.

"You ruined your own legacy, Killian. And for your information, he wasn't just a cook. He was the greatest father and husband this world has ever known."

She slammed the door and strode out.

Outside, the air felt cold. Luciana climbed into her car, driving aimlessly through the empty streets. Every time she saw an elderly man with a backpack walking along the sidewalk, her heart would lurch, and she’d pull over, her breath hitching in her throat.

But it was never him.

"Alan," she whispered into the silence of the car. "Where are you?"