Zara’s POV

  I opened the door to be greeted by a mixture of alcohol and his cologne, suffocating the air around him. Lucas, being of mixed race, had a flushed complexion, most likely from drinking. Why was he drowning his sorrows in alcohol? Had he fought with Giselle?

“Lucas? What do you need? It's late, and you haven't slept,” I told him, concerned. He stared at me intently before speaking in a serious tone. Though he wasn't stuttering, his words came slowly.

“You know, it's all your fault,” he said, pointing his finger at me.

I wasn't sure if he was angry or something else, but I felt a surge...