Klaus POV:
I sank deeper into the couch, feeling its plush cushions press against , but the luxury did nothing to ease the frustration simring beneath my skin. The sitting room around was ridiculously extravagant, but it had a hollow, sterile air, like one of those high-end hotel suites ant for show rather than comfort. Mira’s family owned this safe house , one of her uncle’s properties, or so she’d told , and it served as my hideaway, thanks to the fallout from my latest... decisions.
The walls were painted in a dark, deep erald green, so rich that it seed to swallow the light rather than reflect it. The chandelier hanging above barely seed to help, casting a dull gleam across the room rather than brightening it.
The crystals caught the light in glints that reminded of stars, but they were distant, almost taunting, hanging there out of reach. Across the room, an impressive marble fireplace sat empty and cold, and it might as well have been a grave marker for all the warmth it brought.
Large windows lined one wall, heavily draped with thick curtains, keeping the outside world from prying inside , or, more accurately, keeping trapped within.
I picked up the remote, barely paying attention as I flicked through the television channels. A celebrity gossip show flashed across the screen, so dramatized segnt where they dissected the latest scandal with all the enthusiasm of vultures picking a carcass.
It was almost amusing, in a sick way, how entertained people were by others’ misery. I flipped the channel, and a wildlife docuntary appeared, a low growl echoing from the screen as a tiger prowled through dense foliage, stalking its prey with a terrifying focus. The scene was almost mocking. Here I was, reduced to hiding in a dark room, while that tiger had all the freedom in the world.
I changed the channel again, this ti landing on a news program where a panel of experts debated yet another political scandal, their voices rising and falling as if they were in a heated battle. Not interested, I pressed the button one last ti before I tossed the remote onto the coffee table, the thud reverberating in the silence around .
A bitter sneer twisted my mouth as I pulled out my phone and began scrolling, letting my thumb flick lazily across the screen. It was the sa endless scroll of news, gossip, and useless comntary, and I was about to shut it off when a familiar na caught my eye. Ella.
Her na, her face – there she was, plastered on my screen, looking flawless and radiant as she stepped out of what appeared to be an event center.
A midnight-blue gown draped over her figure like a second skin, her hair swept back in a style that made her look like she belonged on a red carpet. The caption beneath the photo read, "Rising from the ashes." Really? The irony wasn’t lost on . After her apartnt had burned down, she’d beco sothing of a phoenix in the public eye, and people couldn’t stop praising her for her so-called resilience.
But it wasn’t just her resilience or her looks that bothered , it was that she seed untouched by everything. Untouched by , by the chaos I’d stirred up around her. Sohow, despite everything I’d done to tarnish her reputation, she was coming out on top.
And that gnawed at in a way I couldn’t ignore. Seeing her like that, glowing and thriving, made feel like I’d been played.
And then, of course, there was Arec Weston, her new fiancé. The words left a sour taste in my mouth.
Weston, the wealthy boss, the man who had swooped in and apparently swept her off her feet. I’d heard of him, practically everyone had. But I never thought he’d end up with her. And yet here they were, flashing their engagent like so grand prize she’d won.
I felt my jaw clench, my hands tightening around my phone as I stared at her photo. It was ridiculous, really. I’d been the one to end things, to walk away first. I’d told myself that she wasn’t what I wanted, that I was better off without her.
But seeing her like this, moving on so effortlessly and with soone like Arec Weston? It clawed at my pride. She’d barely waited any ti at all, and now she was already engaged? What was she doing with him so soon after we split? It didn’t make sense, and the timing was almost too perfect.
Was it all just a lie? Had she been hiding her feelings for him all along, pretending to be "busy" when we were together, just to run to him the mont I was out of the picture?
I scrolled down, and there it was – more gossip, more speculation about the fire that had gutted her apartnt. People had co up with all kinds of theories, so even accusing of being behind it. , the obsessive ex who couldn’t let go. It was absurd, but it still made my stomach twist. "Who can’t move on?" I muttered bitterly under my breath. "I was the one who ended it. I didn’t want her anymore."
But that was the part that stung the most, wasn’t it? Knowing that even though I’d ended things, she’d managed to move on to sothing bigger, better, soone who made look... small. Insignificant, even. Ella, with all her excuses about not having enough ti, about being "too busy" with work. Now it all seed like a charade, a string of lies. She hadn’t been busy. She’d been waiting for sothing, or soone , better. And she’d found that soone in Arec Weston.
I ran a hand through my hair, raking my fingers through the disheveled strands in frustration. My thumb hovered over Ella’s photo on the screen, her image taunting , daring to admit what I didn’t want to feel. She looked happier than she’d ever looked with . And that bitterness simred, turning into sothing dark and venomous. Mira should’ve been the one standing in that spotlight by my side, not Ella. Ella didn’t deserve it.
It wasn’t lost on that Joanne had played a hand in this ss, too. She’d co to with her sche, telling it’d be easy, a quick hit at Ella’s reputation.
One video, she’d said, one little sar to make people doubt Ella’s character. She’d made it sound simple, clean, like I’d barely have to lift a finger. But now, here I was, hiding out like so criminal while she was out there, living her life untouched. I sneered, feeling disgusted at myself for ever trusting her, for letting myself get dragged into her gas.
A sudden creak from the front door snapped out of my thoughts, and I glanced up without much interest. Mira had arrived, just as I’d expected. She entered, heels clicking on the floor as she took in the room with her usual critical gaze.
Dressed impeccably, of course, a designer coat draped over her shoulders, her hair pulled back in that polished way of hers. She barely glanced at the remote lying haphazardly on the coffee table, or my phone, still displaying Ella’s picture.
"Another rough day?" she asked, her voice devoid of sympathy as she moved to the bar cart in the corner, pouring herself a glass of wine. She didn’t bother offering one, which didn’t surprise .
I pushed myself up on the couch, a flash of impatience breaking through my frustration. "Did you handle it? Is Joanne settled?"
Mira raised an eyebrow as she set her glass down, clearly unimpressed with my tone. "Really? That’s the first thing you ask ?" She looked at for a long mont, as if deciding whether I was worth her ti or trouble. Then, finally, she let out a sigh. "Yes, Klaus, I spoke to Joanne. She won’t bother you again, unless she wants to see the other side of ."
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