Chapter Four : The gala ghost

LENA'S POV

Coincidence.

That was what any rational person would call this.

But I wasn’t naive enough to believe in coincidences. Not when it came to my family. Not when it came to the life I had been forced into, the expectations that had been placed upon me like a noose around my neck.

Kian Davenport had been missing for five years. He had been presumed dead. And yet, here he was, standing among Hudsonville’s elite, pretending not to know me.

My fingers curled into a tight fist at my side, nails digging into my palm. This wasn’t just chance. It wasn’t fate. It was deliberate.

And I was going to find out why.

The weight of the gala felt suffocating now. The chandeliers, the laughter, the constant murmur of business deals and empty pleasantries—it all blurred into a meaningless backdrop. My mind was elsewhere, tangled in a mess of unanswered questions, uncertainty, and something that felt a lot like betrayal.

I needed to leave. I needed fresh air. I needed—

A cold shiver crawled up my spine, a slow awareness settling over me.

I wasn’t alone.

Someone was watching me.

The hairs on the back of my neck prickled as I turned slightly, my eyes narrowing as I caught the reflection of a man standing just behind me in the polished silver of a decorative serving tray.

Harlin Cartwright.

My stomach twisted.

Harlin was the man my grandfather had chosen for me—the business deal I was supposed to marry to save my father’s fortune. He was everything I despised about the world I had been born into. Calculated. Entitled. Smug.

And now, he was admiring me like I was already his.

I turned sharply, my gaze locking onto his.

“Can I help you?” My voice was clipped, my posture stiff.

Harlin smiled, slow and confident, as if he had every right to stand there, watching me like I was a prize he had already won. “No need to be so hostile, Lena.” His eyes trailed over my form, lingering just a second too long. “You look… breathtaking tonight.”

I resisted the urge to recoil. I clenches my designer bag dearly.

“Flattery won’t change my mind,” I said coolly.

His smirk deepened, like my resistance only entertained him. “That’s what I like about you,” he mused, taking a sip of his champagne. “You fight so hard against the inevitable. It’s amusing, really.”

I clenched my jaw. “Excuse me?”

Harlin leaned in slightly, his voice dropping just enough that only I could hear. “We both know how this ends, Lena. You’ll marry me. Whether you want to or not.”

My pulse spiked, anger igniting in my veins. “I’d rather set myself on fire.”

He laughed, the sound low and knowing. “That’s the problem with you, Lena. You’re stubborn. But in the end, you’ll do what’s best for your family. Just like you always do.”

“You don’t really have the rights to say that, since you know nothing about me, family or business wise. But from the way you look, someone could confuse you for the lazy type.” I said, emphasizing my last sentences more louder to his hearing.

“Because you managed your late father’s business property well, doesn’t mean you’re good either.”

I opened my mouth to retort, but before I could, a voice called through the speakers.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, we would like to invite the esteemed Miss Lena Whitmore to the stage.”

I paused before realizing what Mr. Langston had told me was actually true. The applause was immediate, the attention shifting toward me.

Damn it. Not now in the front of Kian.

“Sorry, my award awaits me. Read my books. You may be successful like me one day.” I told Harlin, with a fake smile plastered across my face.

He abrupt moved closer to me, muttering words I instantly regretted hearing. “More reason to marry you, Lena. Our kids would be brilliant, just like their pretty mother.

I shot Harlin a glare before turning on my heel and walking toward the stage, my heart pounding for reasons I couldn’t quite place.

Not just because of the speech. Not just because of the pressure.

But because as I moved, I felt another gaze on me.

A familiar gaze.

Kian.

I didn’t look at him. I wouldn’t. But I felt him watching. And that unsettled me more than anything.

The stage was bathed in golden light, the weight of expectation heavy as I took my place at the podium.

Hundreds of eyes were on me. Some with admiration. Some with curiosity. Some with judgment.

And then there was Kian.

I spotted him in the far-right corner of the room, his posture relaxed, his expression unreadable. But what threw me off wasn’t just the fact that he was watching.

It was the way he was watching. My heart skipped series of beat, realizing he was giving me his full attention.

Talk about not knowing me.

There was a smile plastered on his face, perfectly polite, perfectly detached. But his eyes—they were different. Studying me. Calculating. As if he were trying to piece something together.

Like I was the mystery. Like I was the ghost.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced myself to focus.

I was a Whitmore. I had been trained for this.

I placed my hands on the podium, took a steadying breath, and began.

“Good evening, everyone,” I started, my voice even, controlled. “It is an honor to stand before you tonight, representing not just my family, but the values and legacy we continue to uphold in Hudsonville. I’m Lena Whitmore, Acting CEO of Whitmore's Aircrafts innovation incorporation, and I want to say a big thank you to all nominations, nominees and nominators.

The words came smoothly, practiced. I spoke of business, of charity, of ambition. I spoke of the power of unity, of progress. The crowd listened, nodded, applauded in the right places.

But my mind was elsewhere.

Kian.

His stare didn’t waver.

Why was he here?

Why was he pretending?

And why did it feel like he was waiting for something?

I forced a smile as I reached the end of my speech.

“Tonight, as we celebrate success, let us also remember that our true strength comes from those who stand with us. Our allies. Our partners. And most importantly—” my voice wavered just slightly, but I covered it with a steady breath, “—those who never abandon us.”

I saw something shift in Kian’s eyes.

A flicker. A crack.

And then it was gone.

I stepped away from the podium, the applause swelling around me, drowning out the thunderous beating of my own heart.

Distraction.

As I returned to my table, a waiter appeared beside me, placing a plate in front of me with a perfectly arranged filet mignon and roasted vegetables.

“Enjoy, Miss Whitmore,” he said with a polite nod before stepping away.

I picked up my fork, focusing intently on my plate.

Cut. Chew. Swallow.

I wouldn’t look at Kian.

I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he had unraveled me tonight.

I wouldn’t let him see how much he still affected me.

Even if my hands trembled slightly against the silverware.

Even if every fiber of my being screamed to demand the truth.

Because right now, the only thing I had control over was this moment. This meal. This carefully constructed illusion of indifference.

So I focused on my food.

And not on the ghost of the man I once loved.

“Lena.”

I turned around.

A pair of emerald–green eyes scanned my face with pleasure and longing touch.

“May I have this dance?”

A smile plastered across my lips, before glancing back at where Kian sat with other invited investors.

This is going to be fun.