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Chapter 6: The Ex

Author: Yurivale
last update publish date: 2026-10-03 06:58:00

Milo had one ex.

One ex who taught him everything about being left.

His name was Daniel. He was 28, a gallery owner in SoHo. He was the one who found Milo when Milo was 19 and fresh from Taraba, doing small photo shoots for $50.

Daniel said Milo was "too much." Too clingy. Too jealous. Too intense.

Daniel left him for a painter. He didn't even say it to his face. He sent a text.

Milo never forgot that text. He had it screenshotted.

So when Daniel walked into the charity gala at The Pierre, Milo's blood went cold.

"Lucien," Milo whispered, grabbing Lucien's sleeve. "We need to leave."

Lucien was talking to a senator. "What? Why?"

"Now. Please."

Lucien turned. He saw Milo's face — pale, freckles standing out, hands shaking.

Then he saw Daniel.

Daniel saw Milo too. And he smiled. That gallery-owner smile that had once made Milo feel special.

"Milo Chen? Wow. Small world," Daniel said, walking over with a wine glass. "You look... expensive now."

Milo stepped behind Lucien.

"Who is this?" Lucien asked, voice already cold. He could feel Milo shaking behind him.

"I'm Daniel. Milo's ex. We were together for two years," Daniel said, looking Lucien up and down. "So you're the new upgrade? CEO? Impressive. He always wanted someone rich to obsess over."

Milo's fists clenched in Lucien's jacket.

"Don't talk to him," Milo said, voice tiny.

Daniel laughed. "Still the same, I see. Possessive as ever. Does he know you used to check my I*******m every hour? That you showed up at my gallery at midnight because I didn't text back?"

The senator had awkwardly walked away. People nearby were listening now.

Lucien put his arm around Milo, pulling him in front of him, chest to back. A shield.

"You should leave," Lucien said to Daniel. Quietly. But in that CEO voice that made interns quit.

Daniel held his hands up. "I'm just warning you, man. He's pretty, but he's crazy. He'll ruin your life. He ruined my—"

He didn't finish.

Milo moved.

Milo was fast when he was scared. He grabbed Daniel's wine glass and threw the wine straight in Daniel's face. Red wine, all over Daniel's expensive white shirt.

Gasps everywhere. Phones came out.

"Milo!" Lucien grabbed him.

Daniel wiped his face, stunned and furious. "You little—"

"He's MINE!" Milo shouted, and his voice cracked. It wasn't cute anymore. It wasn't sweet. It was raw and broken and loud enough for the whole ballroom to hear. "You don't get to talk about me! You left! You left me! You don't get to come back and tell him I'm crazy!"

Tears were running down Milo's face now. Mascara running. Lip piercing trembling.

"I know I'm crazy! I know I am! But he likes it! He likes me! You didn't!"

Lucien's heart stopped. He had never seen Milo cry like this. Not out of jealousy. Out of old hurt.

Daniel was shouting, security was coming, but Lucien didn't care. He picked Milo up. Literally picked him up off the floor, one arm under his knees, one around his back.

"He's mine," Lucien said to Daniel, looking him dead in the eye. "And you don't get to talk about what's mine. Ever again. If I see you near him again, I will buy your gallery and burn it down. Do you understand?"

Daniel understood. Everyone in the room understood. Lucien Beaumont never raised his voice. He never had to.

Security took Daniel away.

Lucien carried Milo out of the gala, through the lobby, past all the cameras flashing like crazy. Milo buried his face in Lucien's neck, sobbing and whispering, "Don't leave, don't leave, don't leave."

"I won't," Lucien whispered back, carrying him to the car. "I'm not him. I will never leave."

In the backseat of the Maybach, Milo was shaking in Lucien's lap.

"I'm sorry," Milo cried. "I'm sorry I ruined your gala. I'm sorry I'm like this."

Lucien held his face and kissed his tears away, one by one.

"Don't be sorry," Lucien said. "You didn't ruin anything. You showed everyone who you belong to."

Milo looked at him, eyes red and swollen.

"Did you mean it? That you'll burn his gallery down for me?"

"I meant it."

Milo let out a little sob-laugh. "That's so toxic."

"You're welcome."

Milo clutched Lucien's shirt. "Say it again. Say I'm yours. Please. I need to hear it."

Lucien kissed his forehead, his freckles, his wet cheeks.

"You're mine, Milo Chen. You're my crazy, possessive, jealous, perfect boy. And I'm yours. Only yours. Forever. Even if you throw wine on everyone in Manhattan, I'm still yours."

Milo finally stopped shaking. He curled into Lucien, small and exhausted.

"Take me home," Milo whispered. "I want to go home. Our home."

Lucien told the driver, "Home. Now."

And as the car pulled away from The Pierre, Milo fell asleep in Lucien's arms, holding onto Lucien's tie like a lifeline, with red wine still on his fingers.

Tomorrow, this would be on Page Six. "Billionaire CEO's Boyfriend Causes Scene at Gala."

But tonight, Lucien just held his possessive boy and let him sleep.

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