Chapter 4
Louisa blinked, feigning innocence. “This? Adrian gave it to me. Isn’t it pretty?” Adrian, ever the diplomat in a sea of damage, stepped forward gently. “You could always make yourself a better one,” he said softly. “But Louisa didn’t have anything nice to wear. Please try to understand. “Don’t make trouble here,” he added. “Grandpa must be waiting inside.” I looked at the two of them. Perfect match. One liked to provide, the other always begged to be provided for. “Okay,” I said dryly. “It’s up to you tonight.” Then I turned around and walked into the event hall first. As I headed straight for the refreshment table and took a glass of lemonade to cool my rising anger, Louisa slithered in behind me. She reached out casually. “Oh, I’ll take that.” Her fingers brushed mine and—splash—the lemonade poured down the front of my dress. “Oops,” she said with the fakest pout. “I didn’t mean to.” The sticky liquid ran down my torso, dripping to the floor. A small puddle spread at my feet. I stared at her, face blank. The guests had not noticed yet, but this could easily turn into a spectacle. I was sure she wanted more attention—especially if she slipped on that puddle and played the pregnancy card for sympathy. So, I said calmly, “I should clean this up before someone falls,” Then I reached into my purse and pulled out her thong with just my index finger. I dropped it onto the wet floor between us. I said sweetly, “At first, I wanted to throw it in the trash… but it turns out someone found a better use for it.” Louisa’s eyes widened in horror, her gaze darting to the delicate black lace now soaking in lemonade. It was expensive high-end product, sure. But to me, it was just trash that belonged where it landed. “Elena!” But just as Louisa looked ready to lunge at me, Adrian arrived and asked, “What happened?” I answered before Louisa could open her mouth. “Ah, that—Louisa accidentally spilled lemonade on my dress.” Louisa, still holding her half-empty glass, could not deny it. Her excuse died on her tongue. Instead, she lowered her head slightly and muttered, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” “That’s fine,” I said with a dismissive wave, cutting her off before she could fake any more emotion. “I’ll go freshen-up first, then.” I turned on my heel and left the two of them standing there. I did not know what Louisa said afterward, I only saw her trying to slide her thong under her heel and out of sight. It must have been humiliating. She should be grateful I did not throw it in her face and screamed cheater in front of the entire Velasco family. After cleaning my dress in the restroom and wrapping a silk scarf from my bag over the stained area, I came to Señor Velasco. “Happy 75th birthday, Grandpa,” I said softly. Señor Velasco turned to me, a warm smile lighting his face. He opened his arms without hesitation and pulled me into a hug. “Thank you, mi amor,” he said, his voice kind and low. “But why did you greet Grandpa alone? Not with Adrian? Did that boy upset you again?” Since long ago, he had been my protector—understanding how mischievous Adrian could be and always siding with me when it mattered. I nodded slowly. “Yes,” I whispered. “He hurt me so much this time, Grandpa. Pardon my rudeness, but it wasn’t just once or twice that Adrian hurt me.” I reached into my clutch and pulled out a USB, a proof I gathered for a year. “Adrian… cheated on me. With his own secretary. “I tried to endure it, Grandpa. But that woman is pregnant with Adrian’s child now.” His expression darkened as his personal assistant plugged it on the tablet he brought. Señor Velasco snapped the tab and hissed, “Call that brat!” I immediately waved my hand gently in refusal and said, “No need, Grandpa. He’s madly in love with that woman. I don’t want to marry him anymore. “To fulfil my grandfather’s will, I’ll marry Uncle Diego instead,” I continued. “After all, I accept my professor’s recommendation to continue studying in Paris too.” As I said that, someone finally came over and said, “That boy, how dare he make a girl cry.” Señor Velasco, his assistant, and I looked over almost at the same time. It was Diego Velasco, the one I said I would marry. Without hesitation, Diego reached for my fingers and linked them before smiled at his father and said, “Dad, if that’s what Elena wants, then I’ll agree.” Just like that, simple but totally made everyone stunned, even I could not hide my shock. I had prepared myself for a lecture, a polite rejection, or a gentle reminder that this was family and not a soap opera. Instead, Diego accepted easily and we agreed to leave Spain the next day. I packed the last of my essentials from the villa the next morning. Adrian was packing too. He had been ordered to leave for L.A. on a “business trip” for a month with Louisa—Señor Velasco’s way of removing them from the narrative. Apparently, Diego had only one condition, Adrian must leave. And he did. Adrian leaned in and kissed my forehead gently, as if he still thought we had a future. “I hope you don’t hate Louisa too much,” he whispered. “She’s just my secretary while we will get married eventually.” The words struck me like déjà vu. He used to calm me down like that when I confronted him about Louisa’s arrival in our apartment. The only difference was me. Back then, I was naive. That time, my heart had hardened. There was not a single thread of warmth left for his temptations. I did not care anymore—not about the wedding we had been planning since our engagement, or the invitations already spread. In just an hour, I would be gone. “I’ll miss you, Lena. Back from Los Angeles, we will immediately get married, okay?” My body tensed. I realized I had never actually heard him say ‘I love you’ to me. He had said I miss you, I need you, I want you over and over, especially when his desire was at its peak. But I rarely heard I love you. I confronted him, “Adrian, do you love me?” His eyes flickered for a moment. He hesitated before smiling again and said, “Do I need to say it out loud? Isn’t it clear with just action?” Then he turned his gaze to the Rolex in his wrist, and added before leaving the villa, “Oh, I have to leave soon. See you next month, mi amor.” His answer made things clear. He never loved me. So, I walked to the photo wall, lit the match, and muttered, “I’ve burned it all, so I’ll leave as you wish, Adrian Velasco.”