Backstage Trap - Chapter 3

The gentle melody of the piano sounded like nothing more than noise to Lucia. The same went for the boisterous laughter of the guests around her.

Despite the lavish spread before her, she felt no appetite whatsoever. She had not touched her utensils even once.

For some reason, this outing felt like compensation for that incident, making every part of it uncomfortable.

No—if she was being honest, Ian had almost certainly offered this hotel visit because he thought it was an appropriate reward for her.

Which was why, when she brought up divorce—

“Lucia… do you not like the hotel? We can go somewhere else right now if you want.”

He would probably dismiss it as nothing more than the childish complaint of a woman who wanted a divorce simply because she disliked the dinner venue.

Lucia slowly lifted her lowered lashes.

“Ian.”

At the warning in her voice, Ian finally pressed his lips together.

“Lucia… give me a chance.”

“A chance.”

“Yes. You know I can’t live without you. You’re all I have.”

His voice was gentle and persuasive, but the words themselves were painfully cliché. Perhaps because she had heard them countless times throughout their marriage, they no longer sounded sincere.

No.

They probably weren’t sincere at all.

If they truly were—

“Even though I’ve disappointed you because of this incident… I genuinely regret it. I was wrong. Please?”

If he had truly been sincere, he would never have dared utter an apology to her in the first place.

Despite her husband’s desperate apology, Lucia did not move. She simply looked at Ian with detached eyes.

The sight of him clutching a knife in his trembling hand, his face pale, might have appeared pitiful to anyone else.

But that was all it was. An appearance. Looking at that handsome face now stirred nothing within her.

“If you’re sorry, then let me go.”

“…I can’t. I won’t.”

“…”

The answer came so naturally that Lucia’s lips turned in resignation.

She had been deceived for ten years. The innocent dreams of her youth had faded beneath a marriage she never wanted, and now she had learned that the marriage itself had never been necessary to begin with.

And yet all he could offer were words like disappointment and regret.

Worse, he still couldn’t let go of his own selfish desires.

She wasn’t even disappointed anymore. She should have realized it from the beginning.

“I love you… I love you, Lucia.”

That man called Ian Lancaster was a greedy, cowardly man.

* * *

The moment he stepped into the elevator, Killian decided he should send the seven blonde beauties home.

The reason was simple. The red-haired woman he had seen in the restaurant had stepped inside after him.

Whatever the story was, the silver-haired husband who had just been served divorce papers seemed utterly incapable of letting her go, while the woman gave an indifferent attitude throughout, as though she had grown thoroughly tired of him.

‘Hmm…’

This was much more interesting. Unable to suppress his curiosity, Killian leaned slightly toward her.

“Did your husband cheat on you or something?”

“What kind of—!”

The woman didn’t answer.

Someone else did.

Ignoring the offended reaction, Killian treated the husband as though he didn’t exist and continued lazily.

“So that’s why you couldn’t eat?”

“…”

“And became this thin?”

There was weight behind his gaze as it swept over her frail frame. It was shamelessly direct, as though every place his eyes lingered was being pressed by his fingertips.

The tension inside the enclosed elevator rose instantly. Once again, the response came from someone else.

“…How rude. That’s not what happened.”

Ian, who had immediately bristled at the accusation of infidelity, now clenched his teeth at the blatant interest directed toward his wife.

“Really? The way you were begging back there, I figured you’d been caught cheating.”

“…I’d appreciate it if you refrained from such excessive interest.”

“Excessive? Doesn’t seem that way to me. In front of everyone, you were saying things like I love you, don’t leave me, please don’t abandon me, practically crying like a child. At that point, aren’t you basically asking people to pay attention?”

“When did I ever go that far—!”

“Then forget I said anything.”

Killian slipped a hand into his pocket and casually rolled his neck from side to side.

Since the husband kept answering instead of the woman, his interest began to fade. He turned his attention toward the gold semicircular floor indicator above the elevator doors.

The needle moved upward at a sluggish pace.

He watched it absentmindedly until a hoarse voice suddenly spoke beside him.