Serena’s POV
I didn’t want to pry too much into Maya’s London progress, so I gathered a few designers from the studio and headed to Lance’s art exhibition instead. The event was being held at a prestigious downtown art gallery—quite the grand affair.
Lance Draven’s na alone was enough to draw a significant crowd. The designers accompanying were practically vibrating with excitent. To them, Lance was already a master-level designer, soone they deeply admired from afar.
After entering the gallery, my colleagues dispersed in small groups to explore the exhibition. I wandered deeper inside and found myself drawn to the centerpiece sculpture in the main hall.
Many guests were gathered around this particular work—a stone phoenix with incomplete feathers, its body covered in cracks and burn marks. Despite its damaged appearance, the bird was captured in a mont of flight, its wings spread wide, conveying an incredibly powerful sense of vitality.
"A master truly is a master," soone nearby murmured. "Even after staying out of the spotlight for years, he can still produce sothing this magnificent."
"He’s always been so reclusive," another person added. "Never joining any design studios—who knows where he finds his inspiration?"
"That’s precisely why he’s achieved such greatness," a third voice chid in. "He’s not interested in money or influence. When artists beco preoccupied with wealth, their work grows common."
I couldn’t help but smile wryly at the conversations around . Glancing down at the inspiration description, I suddenly froze.
The piece was titled "Lazuli."
The description read: "Facing any adversity with an upward, life-affirming energy."
My brow furrowed involuntarily. The na coincidence made feel strangely uncomfortable, and I suddenly lost interest in the piece. Just as I turned to leave, I ca face-to-face with Lance.
He looked particularly polished today in an impeccable suit, his hair ticulously styled—clearly, he’d put significant effort into his appearance for this exhibition.
"Serena, you ca," he said, his voice carrying through the space.
People around us turned to look, their gazes darting between Lance and with obvious curiosity.
"Mrs. Lazuli and this piece sharing a na... coincidence?" soone whispered not quite quietly enough.
"Obviously not a coincidence—the piece must be designed for her," another replied.
"Wait, is the designer secretly married?"
"Don’t you recognize her? That’s Serena from Dreamland Jewelry—also Mr. Blackwood’s wife."
Though the discussions were hushed, several comnts reached our ears. My face stiffened with embarrassnt.
I forced a smile, exchanged brief pleasantries, then quickly excused myself to the restroom. After washing my hands, I tried to recover from the awkward mont, wondering if I was reading too much into things.
Lance had always seed like a decent person, and he knew about my relationship with Ryan. I took a deep breath and pushed away my jumbled thoughts before exiting the bathroom.
To my surprise, Lance was waiting nearby. When he saw erge, he hurried over, looking sowhat uncomfortable himself.
"I’m sorry about the sculpture’s na," he said. "It might have created so misunderstandings."
I pulled my lips into a tight smile, feeling uneasy.
"It’s fine. Just a na similarity, I suppose."
I didn’t want to press the issue. Lance and I were rely acquaintances, not close friends, and pursuing the matter seed pointless.
"Mr. Draven, you should probably go attend to your other guests. I’ll just wander around on my own."
Lance shook his head. "My exhibitions have never been about superficial social interactions. I’ve already greeted all the friends I recognize."
"I’m truly happy you ca today, and I’d like to use this opportunity to discuss so of my pieces with you."
I froze, feeling sothing strange stir inside . His attitude toward seed excessively familiar.
"Serena? Is this a bad ti?" he asked when I didn’t respond.
With the conversation already at this point, refusing seed impolite. After all, I had co specifically to appreciate his work.
"Sure, that would be nice," I relented.
Lance’s face lit up as he began guiding through the exhibition. He explained each piece in detail, constantly asking for my opinions and suggestions.
When it ca to art pieces, I didn’t have many profound insights to offer. Though we worked in related fields, our styles differed significantly, and there wasn’t much common ground for aningful critique.
My responses grew increasingly brief, bordering on perfunctory, yet Lance’s enthusiasm never wavered. His conversation remained animated, seemingly unaffected by my diminishing engagent.
After following him around for a while, fatigue began setting in, and I desperately wanted to sit down.
"Mr. Draven, I brought several designers from my studio today who greatly admire your work. They’d be thrilled if you could chat with them for a bit."
I didn’t reject him outright, instead attempting to redirect his attention.
Lance’s brow furrowed slightly, his expression montarily rigid.
Before he could respond, I grabbed a passing designer from our group and positioned myself between them.
"Xiao Wan, this is designer Lance Draven. Didn’t you say you had questions for him?"
The young designer nodded excitedly, imdiately extending her hand for an introduction.
"I’m so happy to attend your exhibition today! Your work is absolutely incredible!"
Lance managed a polite smile and exchanged pleasantries.
I smiled too, placing a hand on my lower back. "I’ll let you two chat while I find sowhere to sit for a mont."
"Serena, are you tired? I didn’t consider how long I’ve been keeping you on your feet. Let help you," Lance said, reaching out toward .
I instinctively stepped back, the uncomfortable feeling in my chest growing stronger.
"No need, please continue your conversation."
Finding an excuse, I hastily retreated to a corner seat, still feeling a burning gaze following . When I turned to look, Lance quickly averted his eyes and resud talking with Xiao Wan.
I sipped so water, thinking about Lance’s unusual attentiveness. During our previous project collaboration, our interactions had been completely normal—just colleagues working together professionally. Now, his attitude had shifted noticeably.
His enthusiasm seed mixed with sothing else—though certainly not romantic interest, given my very pregnant state.
As I sat pondering, my phone rang with a video call from Maya. The exhibition hall was noisy, so I stepped outside to answer.
The mont the video connected, I was greeted by Maya’s tear-streaked face.
My heart tightened imdiately. "Maya, what happened?"
Through the phone ca sobbing as Maya launched into a tirade against Ethan.
"Ethan actually said he only sees as a sister!" she wailed. "When I told him I wanted to try being more than friends, he literally ran away without a word!"
Looking at Maya’s face—now resembling a weeping kitten—I couldn’t help but laugh despite myself. I’d been worried sothing terrible had happened, but it was just romantic troubles.
"Serena! How can you laugh? This is all your fault! If you hadn’t encouraged , I never would have fallen for him!"
I tried to suppress my amusent, offering gentle consolation instead.
"Maya, don’t rush to conclusions. Maybe Ethan just needs ti to think things through."
"Perhaps you should co back to New York for now?"
Maya sniffled and wiped her tears, her emotions settling sowhat.
"Needs ti? He’s clearly just a jerk! We’ve spent so much ti together one-on-one, and he kept accepting my invitations. If he wasn’t interested, why would he do that?"
"And now when I finally make a move, he runs away! He was just playing with !"
Maya grew increasingly agitated, practically radiating murderous intent.
My lip twitched involuntarily. It seed Ethan had truly angered my best friend.
"Maya, try to calm down. These things take ti—give each other so space. You should probably co back soon though. I’ve encountered a bit of a situation here—"
My voice gradually trailed off as a familiar voice behind made jump.
"Serena, I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Why did you co outside?"
My body tensed instantly, sending a chill down my spine.
When I didn’t respond, Lance simply moved in front of and repeated his question.
"Serena, are you alright? You don’t look well. Should I take you sowhere to rest?"
As he spoke, Lance stepped closer, invading my personal space in a way that made deeply uncomfortable.
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