Don't Do This
1263 Words
The morning light crept in weakly through the wide glass windows, spreading across the marble floor. The mansion was quiet, too quiet, except for the faint sound of ice clinking in a glass.
Lucian sat on the couch, half-awake, half-gone. His tie hung loose around his neck, the first buttons of his shirt undone. A bottle of whiskey stood beside him, nearly empty. He hadn’t slept. He hadn’t even changed since last night.
His fingers drummed once against the glass, then stopped. He couldn’t think straight. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Zanetti’s face... That face. Those eyes. The scar... It was him.
Lucian’s chest tightened. The man he’d been hunting in the shadows of his nightmares for years. His mother’s killer. The ghost that ruined everything.
The door opened suddenly, and footsteps echoed down the hallway.
“Lucian?” Damien’s voice broke the silence.
Lucian didn’t move.
Damien walked in, his brows drawn. “What the hell, man? It’s ten in the morning.” His eyes landed on the bottles scattered around. “You’ve been drinking already?”
Lucian muttered, “Didn’t really stop.”
Damien frowned. “You’re supposed to be at the office. Or at least breathing like a normal person.”
Lucian gave a faint, humorless laugh. “Guess I missed that memo.”
Damien sighed and dropped onto the couch across from him. “Okay, what’s going on? You look like death. Don’t tell me it’s about the arrest. The bastard’s behind bars, we should be celebrating.”
Lucian’s grip on the glass tightened. He didn’t speak.
“Lucian?”
Finally, he said quietly, “When I saw him… when I saw Zanetti’s face…”
Damien blinked. “Yeah?”
Lucian swallowed hard. “It was him, Damien.”
“What do you mean?”
“The man who killed my birth mother.” His voice cracked slightly. “It was him all along.”
Damien froze. “What?”
Lucian’s eyes were glassy, fixed on the floor. “That scar on his face... I remember it. I was right there, hiding behind the door.”
For a long moment, Damien said nothing. He just stared at him, the words sinking in like ice.
Then, softly: “Lucian… you’re saying Zanetti’s the one?”
Lucian nodded slowly.
Damien leaned back, his jaw tightening, his chest rising and falling fast. “That son of a b***h…” He dragged a hand through his hair. “You mean to tell me the man who’s been walking around like some business god, he’s the one who killed your mother?”
Lucian’s tone was flat. “And your parents.”
The words hit like a gunshot.
Damien’s face went blank for a second. “What?”
Lucian met his eyes, his voice rough. “The night your parents had that accident... You remember that guy that was investigated... said that someone had paid him to mess with the car and that same person was behind my birth mother's death. But you know, after he said those words, he never lived past the second day.”
Damien pushed to his feet, shaking his head like he could shake the words off. “No. No, that can’t be. That means he’s been on the run for years. The FBI...”
“Never knew who he really was,” Lucian said. “He changed his name. His identity. Hid behind businesses and fake faces. He’s been right under everyone’s nose.”
Damien turned away, his fists clenching. His voice dropped low. “So all this time… he was living like nothing happened. While we were out here trying to breathe again.”
Lucian’s silence was heavy.
Damien slammed his hand against the wall. “That bastard!” His voice cracked with rage. “He destroyed our families, and now he gets to walk around like some man of honor?!”
Lucian’s eyes were distant. “Not anymore. The FBI has him now.”
“Yeah,” Damien said bitterly. “And how long do you think he’ll stay there?”
Lucian didn’t answer. Damien turned to face him, breathing hard. “You should’ve told me last night.”
“I couldn’t.”
“Why not?”
Lucian’s throat tightened. “Because I didn’t even know how to say it out loud.”
Damien studied him. “You’re falling apart.”
Lucian’s lips twitched. “Maybe I was never whole.”
“Stop it,” Damien snapped. “You can’t lose it now. We finally know who he is. We can make sure he never gets out.”
Lucian gave a faint nod but didn’t look convinced. He ran a hand through his hair, staring at the floor.
Damien sat down again, softer this time. “Hey… look at me. We’re still here, okay? You’re still here. Don’t let him take any more from you.”
Lucian’s voice came out low. “He already did.”
Damien frowned. “What are you talking about?”
Lucian’s gaze drifted toward the window. “Everything that meant something, my mother, peace, sleep… and now maybe Georgia too.”
Damien froze. “Georgia? What does she have to do with this?”
Lucian exhaled slowly. “Nothing. That’s the point. I don’t want her caught in any of this more than she already is.”
Damien leaned forward. “Have you even called her? She must be losing her mind right now.”
Lucian looked at his phone lying untouched on the table. “I haven’t checked it.”
Damien’s eyes widened. “Lucian...”
“She doesn’t need to see me like this,” Lucian said, cutting him off. “Not when I’m still trying to process that the man who ruined both our lives might be connected to hers too.
Damien groaned. “You’re overthinking again. She loves you, man. She’d stand by you through anything.” He said.
Lucian gave a hollow laugh. “You don’t know that.”
“Yeah, I do.”
Lucian turned to him slowly. His eyes looked dead tired, almost haunted. “If she looks at me and sees nothing but pain, what then?”
“Then you help her look past it,” Damien said quietly.
Lucian looked away again. “Maybe I shouldn’t be near her at all. Not until I figure this out.”
“Lucian…”
“She deserves peace,” Lucian whispered. “And I don’t bring that. I bring ghosts.”
Damien stood, shaking his head. “No. You bring fight. You bring loyalty. You bring love, even when it’s messy. Don’t twist that into something ugly.”
Lucian didn’t move.
“Call her,” Damien said softly. “Please.”
Lucian looked at his phone again but didn’t reach for it.
“Lucian.”
He stayed quiet.
Damien sighed. “Fine. Drown in your whiskey. But when she finds out you didn’t come for her, don’t expect her to wait forever.”
He walked toward the door. His voice dropped before leaving. “I’m heading to the office. Clean yourself up. You look like hell.”
When the door closed, silence returned, heavier than before.
Lucian’s gaze fell to the drink in his hand. His chest burned as he swallowed the last drop.
He set the glass down, staring at his reflection in the window. The man looking back at him looked nothing like the one Georgia fell for.
He whispered, his voice cracking,
“I don’t even know how to face her anymore. Maybe… maybe she’s better off without me.”
- Writer
