The restaurant was dimly lit and quiet, tucked away from the city's main streets. Lena chose it on purpose—neutral ground, public enough to prevent any scene. But the moment she saw Anthony seated in the corner booth, lounging back like he had every right to be there, a cold knot twisted in her stomach.
Still, she didn't hesitate.
She walked straight to him, pulled out the chair across the table, and sat down with crisp, controlled movements.
Anthony's smile faltered slightly under her sharp gaze.
"Let's not waste time," Lena said, her voice cool, clear. "What exactly do you want, Anthony? What will it take for you to stop chasing me?"
Anthony leaned back, studying her with lazy arrogance. "For you to come back," he said simply, like it was still a possibility.
Lena didn't even blink. "That's not happening."
She drew in a steady breath, pressing on.
"If it's about the penthouse, fine. You can have it. I'll walk away without asking for anything."
Anthony gave a bitter little laugh, drumming his fingers on the table. "It's not about money, Lena. You think that's all I care about?"
She stared at him, unflinching. "Then what is it?"
For a moment, he said nothing, his jaw locking tense. Lena's heart hammered hard in her chest. She decided to rip the last mask off.
"Tell me, Anthony," she said, her voice like steel. "The night of the attempted kidnapping—how exactly did you save me?"
Anthony stiffened. The confident mask cracked, just for a split second.
"You were scared," he said too quickly. "You don't remember clearly."
"I remember enough," Lena said, leaning forward slightly, pinning him in place with her gaze. "I remember being dragged into that alley. I remember struggling. I remember someone pulling me out."
Her voice dropped. "And it wasn't you."
Anthony said nothing, but the guilt flickered across his face before he could hide it.
"You found me after," Lena continued. "You let me believe it was you. You let me cling to you. You let me think you were my hero."
The corner of Anthony's mouth twisted into a sneer. "You were naïve," he said harshly. "You needed a hero. I just filled the role."
Lena leaned back slowly, a wave of disgust churning in her stomach. "You're right about one thing," she said quietly. "I was naïve. But not anymore." She reached for her bag, ready to leave—but Anthony wasn't finished.
"You're just going to walk away?" he said, his voice sharp with anger. "You're going to throw away eight years?"
Lena didn't answer. Anthony leaned in, his voice dropping to a low, ugly whisper.
"You know what my biggest regret is?" he said. "Waiting eight years—and never even getting to sleep with you."
Lena froze, her blood running cold. Anthony smiled bitterly, like he wanted to hurt her.
"You made me wait. Always saying 'not yet,' always talking about marriage, about timing. And what did I get? Nothing."
Lena's hands clenched into fists in her lap, but her expression stayed cold and unreadable.
"And now," Anthony said, leaning back like he was bargaining over a business deal, "I'll sign the papers. I'll let you go."
He smiled, slow and poisonous. "If you spend one night with me."
She rose slowly, the chair scraping lightly against the floor. Every muscle in her body screamed for her to slap him, to scream, to shatter something. But she didn't.
Instead, she looked down at Anthony Grayson with all the icy calm she could muster.
"You're pathetic," she said softly, her voice sharper than any slap could ever be.
"It's just one night, Lena," he said. She froze, but didn't turn around.
"Don't think too highly of yourself," he continued, his voice louder now, as if he needed to tear her down to salvage his own pride. "No guy cares about stupid things like virginity anymore. Men these days like women who are open. Experienced."
Lena's stomach twisted, but she kept her back to him, standing tall.
"And guys like Ethan Calloway?" Anthony sneered. "You think he's some saint? I bet he's had plenty of women. Plenty of experience. Why would he bother with someone like you?"
The words cut deep, but Lena didn't even blink.
She turned her head slightly, just enough to meet his gaze with icy calm over her shoulder.
Anthony smirked, mistaking her silence for hesitation. "I'll give you time to think about it," he said, smug and lazy. "I'm happy to wait."
Lena then turned away and left the restaurant.
*****
The weight of the night pressed heavily against Lena's chest as she made her way to Sophie's apartment building. She hadn't planned on coming but after the conversation with Anthony, she just needed someone with her.
It wasn't a good time to meet Ethan, so she headed to Sophie's house.
Reaching Sophie's door, Lena hesitated only a second before lifting her hand and knocking gently.
The door swung open a few moments later, and there stood Sophie, barefoot and dressed in a soft, oversized t-shirt, her hair a little messy like she'd been relaxing for the night.
Relief flickered through Lena's chest until James appeared behind her, his arm casually slung around Sophie's waist, both of them looking cozy and unmistakably together.
Lena froze, guilt immediately crashing over her. She hadn't even thought that Sophie might not be alone. James gave her an easy smile, but Lena took a half-step back, feeling like she had just intruded on something private.
"I'm sorry," she said quickly, her voice low. "I didn't mean to show up like this... without notice. And I didn't know James was here."
Sophie's face softened immediately with concern. "Lena, it's okay," she said, reaching out and touching her arm. "Are you alright?"
Lena forced a smile, even though her heart felt heavier than ever.
"I'm fine," she lied lightly. "Really. I'll just update you through text instead."
Sophie looked like she wanted to protest, but Lena was already stepping back, giving them their space.
"Goodnight," she said softly, offering a small wave before turning away.
As she made her way down the hallway, Lena wrapped her arms around herself, blinking quickly against the sting in her eyes.
Lena walked slowly through the quiet streets, letting the cool night air wash over her.
She needed time to breathe, time to clear her head before facing the silence of her empty apartment.
When she finally stepped into the lobby of her building, she froze.
There, leaning casually against the wall near the elevators, stood Ethan.
He was dressed simply black t-shirt, jeans and sneakers. It seemed that he came here from home and he looked worried. A deep, aching concern etched into every line of his face.
Lena blinked, stunned.
"Ethan," she said, her voice catching slightly. "Why are you here?"
Ethan straightened the moment he saw her, taking a few steps closer.
The moment his eyes landed on her face—on the redness around her eyes, the exhaustion etched deep into her features—something inside him twisted painfully.
She had cried. And he hadn't been there for her.
His chest tightened with guilt and frustration.
"Why didn't you call me?" he asked quietly, searching her face as if trying to read every unspoken thing she carried.
Lena looked away, hugging her arms around herself.
"I didn't want to bother you," she said, forcing a small smile. "We agreed... remember? To keep some distance for a few days. To avoid the media, the public."
Ethan exhaled, running a hand through his hair.
"James called me," he said. "He told me you showed up at Sophie's place... and that you didn't seem okay."
Lena's heart squeezed painfully. Of course James would notice. And of course Ethan would come without hesitation.
"What happened?" Ethan asked again, softer now, almost afraid to push too hard.
Lena hesitated, feeling the lump rise again in her throat.
"I..." she started, swallowing thickly.
"I wanted to close things with Anthony. I called him out. Tried to negotiate and even told him I would give up the penthouse if it meant ending things cleanly."
Ethan's jaw tightened, his fists clenching slightly at his sides, but he stayed silent, letting her finish.
"But..." Lena gave a small, bitter laugh, looking down at her shoes. "He still refused to let me go."
She didn't mention the worst of it. She didn't tell him about Anthony's disgusting "deal." Didn't tell him how those words had made her feel cold, worthless, hollow.
She didn't want to see the fury it would unleash in Ethan and she also didn't want to burden him with her shame.
Ethan reached out, hesitating only for a second before cupping her elbow gently, grounding her.
"You should have called me," he said again, his voice rough with feeling.
Lena finally lifted her eyes to his—and the look she found there nearly undid her.
"I didn't want to pull you into my mess," she whispered.
"You're not a mess, Lena," he said fiercely, stepping closer. "No matter what, we are together now. Anything, we will face it together."
For a moment, neither of them moved, the silence heavy with everything they couldn't quite say.
Then, without waiting for permission, Ethan gently pulled her into his arms.
Lena tensed for a moment, then relaxed into him. She closed her eyes, breathing him in, feeling his steady heartbeat and the way he held her like she was whole.