Chapter 219

The Carter estate sat like a monument to old money and ambition. Elena stepped into the sun-drenched kitchen, adjusting the collar of her sweater higher, hiding the fading marks on her neck. The scent of freshly brewed coffee hit her, bitter and grounding.

Her father, Enric Carter, stood by the island counter, his phone balanced between his shoulder and ear, voice clipped and assertive.

“I don’t care what he said, if the suppliers aren’t meeting the deadline, pull out and find someone else. Tell Mitchell I don’t pay him to screw up.”

Elena leaned against the counter, eyes heavy from lack of sleep and thoughts she couldn’t shake. Her father hadn’t noticed her yet.

“Yeah, tell him the merger paperwork has to be signed by Monday. No excuses. Got it?”

He hung up the call and turned his attention to her. “Elena?” He narrowed his eyes slightly, taking in her oversized hoodie and the way she kept her head down.

She cleared her throat and gave him a smile she didn’t feel. “Morning.”

“You’re up early.”

“Barely,” she muttered, sipping her coffee.

“I heard you didn’t come home last weekend when I was on the trip.”

Elena’s pulse spiked. “I… I was at Avonlea’s. I texted you.”

A lie. A terrible one.

He nodded slowly, too slowly. “And I’m just supposed to believe that?”

Elena’s grip tightened on the glass. “Why not?”

“Because I know that look, kid. It’s the same one your mother used to wear when she was hiding something.”

Her stomach twisted at the mention of her mother. “I’m not hiding anything.”

He stepped toward her, leaning on the counter. “Elena, listen. I know I haven’t been around much lately. But if there’s something going on, someone, I need to know.”

Her heart skipped. “There’s nothing, dad.”

“I got a call from Dean Holloway yesterday.”

Her blood turned to ice.

“He said you missed two exams this week.”

She swallowed hard. “I… I wasn’t feeling well.”

“Elena.” Her father’s voice softened, but the disappointment cut deeper than anger. “This isn’t like you. You’ve been distracted for weeks. Skipping classes. Staying out all night.” He leaned forward. “What’s going on?”

I slept with a stranger twice my age and now I can’t stop thinking about him.

“Nothing,” she whispered. “I’m just stressed.”

“I know I’ve been busy lately, but I need you to take more responsibility, El. People see you. You're a Carter. That means something.”

A Carter. A name with weight. A legacy. And here she was, sneaking out of men’s beds, lying through her teeth, walking the razor’s edge of disaster.

“I’ll be better,” she said quietly.

Her father nodded, already half-focused on the next meeting on his schedule. “Good. I’m having someone over for dinner tonight. A business associate. Try to be presentable, okay?”

“Another boring suit?” she asked, hoping it was no one she'd have to fake a smile for.

Enric grinned. “He’s sharp. Young. Handles his shit. Reminds me of me, actually.”

Great. Another ambitious shark to add to her father’s collection.

“I’ll make myself scarce.”

“I’d rather you didn’t. Could be good for you to sit in and learn.”

Elena’s stomach twisted. She nodded slowly. “Sure. I’ll try.”

As her father left the room, Elena leaned forward, pressing her palms to her face. “God, just let it be someone boring.”

But fate, as always, had other plans.

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

Across town, Ryan Johnson leaned back in his chair at the long glass table in his parents’ dining room. The chandelier above him glittered with overcompensated wealth, and the smell of rosemary chicken wafted from the kitchen, where his mother was setting plates like it was still 2005.

“You’re late,” his mother said, setting down the silverware with unnecessary force.

“I came straight from the office,” Ryan replied, loosening his tie. “I’m juggling three collapsing contracts and a team that can’t make a decision without a crisis call.”

His father grunted from the head of the table. “Excuses.”

Ryan didn’t flinch. “Facts.” He kissed her cheek.

His mother sighed, wiping her hands on a linen cloth. “You work too hard. When was the last time you brought someone home for dinner? I mean a real woman. Not those assistants you parade around for two months before disappearing on them.”