Chapter 4: (Flashbacks)

 ELENA ‧𓍢☕ ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪

I was standing there almost like an statue, because of the man that was sitting in front of me.

My mind pulled back to that night—

______

It had been a long day, thanks to a million orders of cupcakes that needed to be delivered.

I was so ready to get home, prop my feet up, and binge-watch something ridiculous. My bakery was closed, the last tray of lemon pie cooling on the counter.

So, there I was, driving down the main road, when bam—out of nowhere, a sleek, black car cut across my path.

I hit the brakes hard, sending my seatbelt digging into my chest like it was trying to strangle me.

But... not fast enough.

SCEARRRRRRRR!!!!

I could feel the sickening scrape of metal against metal. It was the kind of sound that made your stomach drop to your feet, followed by the awkward silence of "did that really just happen?"

I winced as I almost hit my head against the steering wheel, but, hey, at least I didn't get a twisted neck. I slowly got out of the car, rubbing my forehead like I'd been hit by a truck.

It was windy, the kind of wind that messes up your hair no matter how much hairspray you used—yes, I've learned that lesson the hard way.

I glanced down at the damage—nothing too crazy, but enough to make my heart sink. A scratch, a small dent—nothing too horrific, but still, my baby was hurt. I put my hand to my mouth, my chest tightening. "My baby..." I whispered and bent, staring at my car like it had just betrayed me.

But before I could fully collect myself, a man's voice was heard.

"𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒗𝒂𝒍𝒖𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆, 𝒅𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖?"

I froze.

I looked up, barely processing the words. And then, I saw him.

A tall man. So tall I had to crane my neck to get a good look at him. He was standing there with crossed arms, His dark hair was perfectly styled, like he'd just walked out of some high-end fashion shoot, and his sharp jawline... it was like something out of a romance novel, the kind of jaw that would have me flipping pages faster than I could blink.

His eyes—dark and unreadable—felt like they could pierce through the wind and hit me dead center. I could tell he was sizing me up, taking in my anger, my frustration, my entire existence in one glance. And then, he sighed.

Yes, sighed. Like I was the inconvenience in this scenario.

His shoulders were broad, his posture confident—no, scratch that, more like commanding. He wasn't the kind of man who let things slide. I could tell that already. He was wearing a sleek black suit, the kind that would make anyone on the street feel like they were standing in front of royalty.

"Look," I snapped, shaking my head to clear the dizzying mix of anger and disbelief. "You're the one who almost ran into me, and you're the one talking about valuing life?"

He glanced at his car—completely unscratched, unlike mine—and then, his gaze returned to me. His eyes were unreadable, cold.

"Tell me" he murmured, tilting his head slightly. 

"𝑫𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒅𝒓𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒍𝒚, 𝒐𝒓 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒂 𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒍 𝒐𝒄𝒄𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏?"

I swear my jaw almost hit the ground. The audacity of this man. My blood boiled, but I refused to back down.

"Excuse me? It wasn't even my fault! You came out of nowhere—You were the one speeding like a maniac!"

He rolled his eyes, Then, without a care in the world, he took a step closer. I took a step back. Because, well, personal space is a thing, right?

"Is that so?" he said, raising an eyebrow. He glanced down at his watch, like he was already bored with this little interaction.

"You know, I CAN SUE YOU FOR THIS, RIGHT?" I said, my voice steady. Honestly, I wasn't even sure if I could, but it sounded good enough to get under his skin.

"You can," he said. "But it'd be a shame to waste your time and energy on something so... Useless."

Then he reached into his pocket, pulled out a sleek, black card, and handed it to me.

"𝑪𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒄𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒕,"

 He said, I glanced down at the card, it had his name on it: 𝒵𝑒𝑜𝓃 𝒱𝒶𝓇𝒹𝑒𝓃 𝒱𝒶𝓁𝑜𝒾𝓈

I couldn't help it. I scoffed.

"Zeon Varden? Who do you think you are, the king of Velmora?"

 I threw the damn card in the air, watching it flutter down in front of him like confetti.

He didn't even flinch. He just turned on his direction and started walking away, like I was some little blip in his ridiculously expensive day.

But nope. I wasn't done yet.

I marched right up to him, put my hand on his shoulder, and stopped him mid-stride. "And where do you think you're going, Mr. Varden?"

He barely spared me a glance, his jaw tightening as he straightened his suit. "Remove your hand Miss. Unless you're trying to test how fast I lose patience."

And then I stood there, hands on my hips, glaring at him.

"Let's settle this now," I said, all fire and frustration. I wasn't backing down. Not this time.

He, of course, just sighed. He rubbed his temples, as if the entire universe was conspiring to ruin his precious day.

"Look, I do not have time for this," he muttered, sounding like I'd asked him to solve world hunger in five minutes. "Stop wasting my time—"

I cut him off, crossing my arms dramatically. "Drive away and leave me here to deal with the fact that you almost wrecked my car and now you're acting like I'm the one with the problem? Oh, no. That's not how this works."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed, but I wasn't done.

"Do you have basic human decency? Ever heard of it? Or are you too busy being a pro at not giving a damn?" I rolled my eyes. "Honestly, I'm just a simple woman with a dented car and a burning desire to make you feel a little bit guilty for your reckless driving."

He took a step closer, his eyes suddenly intense, like he could cut through me with just a glance.

I took a step back—and bam, I was pressed up against my car. The cold metal against my back was the only thing keeping me from running away, but honestly, the guy had me cornered.

He didn't stop. Instead, he leaned in a little, his gaze never leaving mine. 

"𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕, 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒌 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕?"

 he asked, voice low and dangerously calm.

I blinked, completely thrown off. He was... really close now. So close that I could practically smell the expensive cologne clinging to him. I straightened up, 

"Oh... oh..." I stumbled, a little flustered now. Great—just what I needed, I had enough of those already. "Excuse me, but... um..." I swallowed. "You're not the only one who's had a long day, alright?"

I took a breath, crossing my arms as I was exhausted from everything that was going on.

He rubbed his temples again, and let out another one of those dramatic sighs. 

"Look," he said, his voice colder than the wind whipping around us. 

"𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒄𝒂𝒏'𝒕 𝒃𝒆 𝒇𝒊𝒙𝒆𝒅, 𝒐𝒌𝒂𝒚? 𝑰 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒊𝒔𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒏𝒆𝒙𝒕 𝒄𝒖𝒑 𝒐𝒇 𝒄𝒐𝒇𝒇𝒆𝒆." 

Translation: Do you have any idea how much money I have? 

He paused, his eyes flicking down at his watch, " And that's why I suggested you contact my assistant and settle whatever is happening here. instead of wasting my time with... whatever this is."

I looked at him for a second, my frustration bubbling up again. God, this guy—how did someone manage to be so rich, and yet so... ugh? I sighed dramatically, because, at this point, what else could I do?

"I'm really not going to waste my time with you standing here," I muttered, giving him a pointed look. "I'm sitting in your car. Let's see if your 'fixing my car' promise is as good as your attitude."

I grabbed my purse, the keys to my own car—just in case I needed an escape route—and slid into the passenger seat of his black car, I rolled the window down, 

Zeon, of course, stared at me like I'd just suggested we both run away to Bellmont and get married.

"Well, how can I trust you?" I asked, looking at him. "You say you'll fix it, and just drive off like nothing happened and expect me to believe you'll fix it? What are you going to do, throw money at it?"

______

"Did you see a ghost?"

The voice pulled me back to reality—it was the one with glasses. He was watching me with mild amusement.

I forced out a laugh—one of those awkward, please-let-the-ground-swallow-me kind of laughs. "No! Well... something. But not a ghost. Definitely not a GHOST."

Great. That wasn't weird at all.

He seemed young, maybe in his late twenties, with neatly combed dark hair and glasses on perfectly. His sharp suit and composed demeanor screamed assistant, maybe? Or someone important.

And then to him, the one and only Zeon...

As I took a step closer to the desk, my attention was on the nameplate on the table which said,

CEO – 𝒵𝑒𝑜𝓃 𝒱𝒶𝓇𝒹𝑒𝓃 𝒱𝒶𝓁𝑜𝒾𝓈

My breath hitched.

The guy with glasses—who was not the CEO, thankfully—smiled and leaned forward slightly. "I'm Haiden, The director." He gestured to the very man I was desperately trying not to make eye contact with. "And this is Zeon Varden, CEO of Eclipsé Art Gallery."

I nodded, pretending like I hadn't already figured that out two seconds ago in the most dramatic way possible. "Nice to meet you."

Zeon didn't say anything. Just watched me. 

Before I could spiral any further, Haiden casually picked up a folder from the desk and flipped it open. His eyebrows shot up slightly, and he leaned toward Zeon, lowering his voice like he was letting him in on a big secret.

"She's the one Miss Bellini recommended," he whispered, though I could very much hear it.

oh.

ohhh.

Well. This was off to a fantastic start.

Zeon exhaled slowly, "Of course, she had to be..." he muttered under his breath.