Ryan’s POV
I watched the exchange between Ethan Quinn and Serena with asured attention. The exhibition had gone flawlessly—better than expected, actually. Every piece displayed with precision, every detail executed perfectly. I couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride watching Serena in her elent, even from the sidelines.
"Mr. Blackwood, shall we proceed to the celebration dinner?" Ethan approached as the exhibition wound down. "I’ve arranged a private room at the restaurant nearby."
I nodded, glancing toward Serena who was speaking with one of her designers. "Of course."
The restaurant was only a short drive away. I kept my hand at the small of Serena’s back as we walked in, hyperaware of her pregnancy and the slight wince that occasionally crossed her face when she thought I wasn’t looking. Stubborn woman—she’d never admit when she needed rest.
The private dining room was elegant but understated. I could feel the initial tension hanging in the air—understandable, given my history with Dreamland Studio wasn’t exactly friendly. Still, everyone made an effort, and gradually the atmosphere loosened.
Ethan Quinn surprised . For soone of his status, he carried himself with an unexpected lack of pretension. Throughout dinner, I observed how easily he interacted with Serena’s team, showing genuine interest in their work.
"I really must be going soon," he said after about an hour, setting down his glass of wine. "These past few days have been quite demanding."
He raised his glass toward Serena and . "To successful collaborations."
We reciprocated the toast, though I only pretended to sip mine. I’d been avoiding alcohol entirely since Serena’s pregnancy—solidarity, I suppose.
"Serena, you must be exhausted after today," Ethan added with genuine concern. "Mr. Blackwood, perhaps you should take her ho soon."
I nodded stiffly. "That was my intention."
His suggestion irritated irrationally—as if I needed his reminder to take care of my own wife. Ex-wife. Soon-to-be wife again, if I had my way.
"You’re leaving tomorrow, aren’t you?" I asked, keeping my voice neutral.
"Yes," he confird with a slight nod. "I’ve been away from S City quite long enough. It’s ti I returned."
"Then I wish you safe travels," I offered diplomatically.
His smile seed genuine. "Thank you, Mr. Blackwood."
Serena excused herself to the restroom, leaving Ethan and montarily alone as we walked out of the private room. Just as he was about to head toward the exit, I called after him.
"Mr. Quinn, a mont."
He turned, mild surprise on his face. "Is there sothing else?"
The question had been burning in my mind since I first saw them interact. Sothing didn’t add up.
"Actually, I’ve been curious about sothing," I began, not bothering with preamble. "Your interest in Serena’s career—it seems to extend beyond professional courtesy. Is there a history there I should know about?"
His expression shifted almost imperceptibly before settling into sothing more guarded. He clearly hadn’t expected this direct approach.
After a brief hesitation, he laughed lightly. "Mr. Blackwood, I think you might be misunderstanding sothing. My feelings toward Serena aren’t what you’re implying."
"What I feel is admiration and respect. She’s more like... a friend."
I nodded slowly. "I can see that. But that doesn’t fully explain your level of involvent."
Ethan studied for a mont, then his expression softened into sothing like amusent.
"You’re quite perceptive, aren’t you? Very well, I’ll be straight with you." He paused, his voice dropping slightly. "Serena bears a striking resemblance to my mother. The similarity is... remarkable. Eight or nine points out of ten, I’d say."
The revelation hit like a physical force. Eight or nine points of similarity? That couldn’t be re coincidence. My mind raced back to when I first t Serena, to her mysterious past before the accident. The pieces were starting to form a pattern I couldn’t ignore.
Ethan noticed my sudden distraction. "Mr. Blackwood? Did that remind you of sothing?"
I quickly composed myself. This wasn’t the ti or place to voice my suspicions.
"No, nothing in particular. Safe travels, Mr. Quinn."
"Thank you. Take care—both of you."
I watched his retreating figure with newfound intensity, not breaking my gaze until he disappeared completely from view. The implications of what he’d just revealed were too significant to dismiss.
If Serena resembled Ethan’s mother that closely, and considering the gaps in her past... Could she be connected to the Quinn family? The timing of her appearance in my life, her natural talent for jewelry design, the inexplicable familiarity with high society despite her supposed humble background—it all suddenly pointed toward a possibility I’d never considered.
My thoughts were interrupted by Serena’s return. She looked tired, one hand absently rubbing her lower back.
"Where’s Ethan?" she asked, looking around.
"He left," I answered simply, offering my arm for support. "Let’s get you ho. You need rest."
As we walked to the car, my mind continued piecing together this new puzzle. One thing was certain—Serena might have more layers to her identity than either of us had ever realized. And I intended to uncover every one of them.
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