Page 54 of Protected By My Best Friend's Brother

Lucas was planning to restructure the tech division—my division—without even discussing it with me? After everything we’ve shared, after all our talk of partnership and trust? The thought makes my chest ache with a familiar, bitter pain. The pain of being sidelined, of having decisions made for me instead of with me.

Some things change.

But maybe some things—like men making choices about my future without consulting me—never do.

I look down at Brighton’s business card, still clutched in my hand. Head of global sustainable technology. Creative control. My name on the patents. Everything I’ve worked for professionally offered on a silver platter.

At what cost?

And why does it hurt so much that Lucas, of all people, might not believe I can handle both a relationship and a high-profile career?

The worst part? I understand his instinct to protect. I’ve cataloged every suspicious glance from the board, analyzed Clara’s manipulation patterns, and tracked the statistical increase in whispers following us through rooms like this one. The data all points to judgment, yet emotionally I still want him to stand beside me, not in front of me.

Not just in love, but in the work that’s been my life’s passion.

Chapter Nineteen

Lucas

Iwatch Emma disappear onto the terrace, my mother’s sapphire earrings catching the light as she walks away. The urge to follow her battles against the anger still churning from Clara’s revelations about the board members’ schemes. Every instinct screams to chase after her, to explain, to fix this—but the part of me still learning to face conflict rather than avoid it holds me back.

Two years ago, I would have walked away. Fled to New York. Let the distance solve the problem by creating an entirely new one.

“Let her go.” My mother’s voice is gentle beside me. “She needs a moment, and you should think about what just happened.”

“Mom, you don’t understand. What Clara told you—”

“What Clara told me was calculated manipulation, and you played right into it.” She leads me to a quiet corner, her expression firm but kind—the one she used when I was a teenager convinced I knew everything. “Did you think I wouldn’t recognize what she was doing? I survived thirty years of corporate politics beside your father.”

Sophie materializes beside us, her usual mischief replaced by genuine concern. She’s abandoned her champagne flute and looks surprisingly serious in her emerald gown. “Mom’s right. Clara knew exactly what buttons to push. She’s been laying this trap all night.”

“Both of you don’t understand.” I let out a sharp breath and clench my fists at my sides, my nails digging into my palms. “What she said about the board—”

“Is exactly what she wanted you to hear,” Mom interrupts, her tone shifting to no-nonsense. “Do you know what I saw tonight, watching you two together?”

I sigh. “Mom—”

“I saw how she makes you light up. How you work in perfect sync.” She grips my arm firmly. “But more importantly, I saw how she makes you brave enough to be yourself. Until Clara started whispering about board politics and protecting reputations. Then I watched my son turn back into his father.”

That stops me cold. “What?”

“Your father thought he was protecting me too, keeping me away from the ‘messier’ parts of the business.” She glances away briefly, old pain flickering across her features. “It took years for him to understand that protection without trust isn’t love—it’s control.”

The words land like stones, heavy with decades of meaning. Mom rarely talks about her early years with Dad—how she’d started in marketing only to be gradually sidelined as WalkerEnterprises grew. How she’d eventually started her firm to prove she could.

“And you’re doing the same thing,” Sophie adds, perching on a nearby chair. “I watched you with Emma all night - how perfectly you work together, you make each other stronger. Then Clara shows up, and suddenly you’re trying to handle everything alone. Just like Dad used to.”

The comparison stings more than I want to admit. “I’m not... I wouldn’t...”

“Of course you wouldn’t. Not intentionally.” Mom’s expression softens. “But Lucas, honey, that brilliant woman out there doesn’t need protection. She needs a partner who believes in her as much as she believes in him.”

I sink into a chair, the truth of their words settling in my chest. The crowded ballroom fades to background noise as I process what they’re saying. “I just... when Clara started talking about the board’s plans, about using our relationship against Emma’s career...”

“You panicked. Decided to handle it alone. Just like you did two years ago.” Mom sits beside me while Sophie leans against my chair. The two women who know me best in the world, tag-teaming an intervention in the middle of a charity gala. “How did that work out?”

“I lost our friendship.” The admission comes easily, along with the painful memories of two years of emptiness in New York.

“And now?”

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