Lena's Pov
I turned around—and to my surprise, it was Dr. Charles.
"Hey, Professor," I greeted, caught off guard.
"No need for titles, Lena," he replied with a half-smile. "Just Charles. Especially not in a place like this."
He looked around like a tourist in a cathedral, clearly more excited to be among glamor than in a lecture hall full of overworked postgrads.
"You look... different," I said, eyeing the tux he wore. Sleek. Sharp. Bold. Nothing like the laid-back professor I used to know.
"And you look amazing," he replied, his eyes sweeping over me a little too slowly. "Seriously. You're glowing."
I gave a polite smile, brushing a stray curl behind my ear. His gaze lingered, and then he asked, "Can we talk somewhere quiet?"
I hesitated. The last thing I needed was a whisper of scandal. But the curiosity in his tone, the way his eyes pleaded—not just asked—made me pause.
After a moment of thought, I nodded. "Okay. But make it fast. My husband could be back any minute."
He led me to a tucked-away section of the hall, just outside the main event space. It wasn't private, not exactly, but quiet enough. We were alone, except for the distant hum of chatter and clinking glasses.
"How did you even get invited to a place like this?" I asked, half-joking. "I thought events like this were strictly invitation-only."
Charles chuckled. "I thought it was a prank when I found the invite in my mailbox. Figured it was one of the stunts my students pull sometimes. I tried it, just for laughs—and they actually let me in."
He looked genuinely amused, but I wasn't. Something about it felt... off.
"So," I said, folding my arms. "What did you want to talk about?"
He hesitated. "I don't even know how to say this. But I couldn't wait anymore."
I tilted my head, confused. "Okay... go on."
"Lena, I know how hard it's been since you lost your parents. The grief, the trauma—it nearly crushed you. I watched you try to keep going when it would've been easier to just collapse. You're strong. Stronger than anyone I know."
I nodded slowly, unsure where this was going.
He took a step closer.
"And then, suddenly… you got married. To Ethan O'Martin. One of the most powerful and private men in the country. No engagement. No announcement. Just… married."
"I don't see how that concerns you," I said, my voice sharper now.
"I wouldn't bring it up if I didn't care," Charles said, eyes softening. "If I had known about your brother's situation earlier, I could've helped. I would've helped."
"You did enough already," I said firmly. "I didn't come to you because I don't need saving. I can care for myself."
"I know you can," he said, stepping closer again. "But I want to be there. I—"
"What are you trying to say?" I cut in.
"I left my family behind," he said. "They wanted me to run the business empire. I wanted a life of my own. I walked away from the power, the wealth, the security… but I still have access. I still have influence."
"And?" I asked, suspicion now creeping into my voice.
"Come with me," he said, voice low and desperate. "Elope. Leave with me."
My heart stopped.
"What?" I blinked, sure I'd misheard.
"From the first day I saw you, I knew," he said, words rushing now. "Your kindness. Your smile. It undid me. I've wanted to say this for so long."
"You're not serious," I whispered, backing away slightly. "I'm married. To Ethan."
"You can leave him," Charles insisted. "My family is just as powerful. I'll make sure you're safe. They'll love you. They'll accept you as their daughter-in-law."
I stared at him, shaken. "Charles, this is too much. First of all, I never said I married Ethan for protection or money."
"Isn't it obvious?" he said bitterly. "One moment you were alone and struggling, the next you're the wife of one of the most elusive billionaires in the country. You think I don't know how these things work?"
"I don't need to justify my life to you," I said, swallowing my anger.
"But you lied,"I said suddenly.
"What?"
"You said someone invited you and it was a prank. But the truth is, you invited myself.
I had to. Because I needed you to hear me out."Charles said almost emotionally
"Why would you go to such lengths?"I wondered
"Because I couldn't let you go without trying."
He stepped closer again, and before I could react—he leaned in.
And kissed me.
It wasn't forceful, but it was unexpected. Too close. Too fast. Too wrong.
I stood there, frozen. Shocked. Speechless.
Then he pulled back, breathing unevenly. "I'll call you," he whispered—and walked away like he hadn't just lit a fire I never asked for.
I was still standing there, dazed and furious, when I felt my phone buzz in my hand.
A message.
From Ethan.
"Where are you?"
And just like that, the quiet space around me turned suffocating.
Ethan's Pov
I knew I saw him.
That so-called Professor—Charles. The man who always found a way to linger around Lena like a damn shadow. Spying? Maybe. Desperate? Most likely.
I never trusted the way he looked at her. Not the way a mentor should. It was always a little too long. A little too personal.
That's why I never liked leaving Lena alone for too long. Not because I doubted her—but because I knew men like him. The type who wrapped manipulation in empathy and called it healing. Psychology talk laced with intentions.
But I couldn't follow her every second. Not with Frederick Henderson in the same room—another slippery bastard I needed to pin down. The cost of protecting one could mean losing grip on the other.
Still, I wasn't stupid. I took a calculated risk.
Before leaving her side, I slid a discreet voice recorder into the lining of her bag. A precaution. Call it paranoid if you want. I call it foresight.
Because somehow, I knew Charles wasn't just helping Lena through trauma. He was leveraging it. Feeding off it. Maybe he'd already crossed the line. Maybe he hadn't. But one thing I knew for sure—I was her first. That meant something. That meant everything. That was respect.
I found Henderson. Managed to intercept before his conversation picked up. Greeted him with charm, offered my card, hinted at investment. Let him think I was interested in whatever little empire he thought he was building.
It was all the time I needed.
Later, I listened.
Lena. Charles.
His voice was smooth, careful—but not careful enough. He talked about helping. About her past. About her pain. About how he could've helped more, done more, been more.
Then he started talking about Ethan O'Martin—me—like I was some opportunistic threat. Like Lena needed rescuing from me.
Then came the part that made my jaw clench.
Elope with me.
That sentence replayed over and over in my head like a song I couldn't turn off. The audacity. The nerve.
And Lena… her voice didn't rise. She didn't scream. She didn't laugh in his face.
She was quiet.
Too quiet.
That silence—it did something to me. Not jealousy. Not even anger. It was something sharper. More primitive.
Territorial.
Then came the kiss.
I didn't need the audio to feel it. I saw it.
She was facing away from me. Charles wasn't. His eyes locked with mine just as he leaned in and stole something that wasn't his.
He kissed her.
And in that moment, he declared war.
Did she kiss him back? No.
Did she push him away? Not fast enough.
I didn't wait for her to see me. I turned. Walked away before I said something—or did something—I couldn't take back.
But I wasn't done.
I picked up my phone, thumb hovering for a second before I typed the most casual lie I could manage.
"Where are you?"
Let her wonder. Let her think I was still caught up with Henderson. Let her feel normalcy, because I needed her guard down.
Because when it comes to what's mine, I don't play fair.
And Charles? He just made himself a target.