5: EYES THAT HAUNT

ELARA’S POV

“Wonderful! I have dresses in the back you ladies can change into,” Mrs. Chelsea beams.

Jenna pulls me aside, whispering, “More connections mean more jobs, and more jobs mean more money. Plus, I bet they’ll serve us some expensive wine and delicious snacks”

I chuckle, rolling my eyes. “Fine, whatever.”

We walk into the room, where she has an entire rack of elegant evening gowns ready.

Jenna doesn’t hesitate. She’s already looking through the dresses, holding up a deep blue one against herself.

“Try this,” she says, tossing me a sleek beige gown. I hold it up, admiring the simple yet beautiful design.

With a sigh, I change into the dress, touch up my makeup, and glance in the mirror.

Jenna gives me a thumbs up, and we rejoin the event, blending into the crowd of socialites all dressed to impress.

Mrs. Chelsea finds me quickly, her arm linking with mine as she introduces me to several guests. Making sure to tell them how much of a lifesaver I am.

I do my best to keep up, smiling politely and making small talk. After a while, the crowd starts to feel suffocating, and I excuse myself to the side of the room to catch my breath.

I take a seat by the seating area, the whole room falls quiet, murmurs spreading through the crowd. I turn toward the entrance to the three men that walked in and freeze.

It’s Antonio Mancini, James Leclarc with their plus ones and Nate. My Nate, looking as handsome as ever except his arm is around another woman. She’s stunning, dressed in a sleek red gown, her laugh too loud as she clings to him.

Our eyes meet for a split second, and I instinctively smile, hoping he’ll return it. But his scowl only deepens, and he turns away, focusing all his attention on her.

A sharp pain shoots to chest but I brush it away.

I’m checking my phone when I feel someone’s gaze on me. Glancing up, I see a man watching me from across the room.

Tall, dark haired, and impeccably dressed, he has an air of quiet confidence. When our eyes meet, he gives me a slight nod, as if we’re sharing some private joke.

Something about him is oddly familiar, though I can’t place it. He begins to walk over, but before he could get to me he gets intercepted by a lady in a green dress pulling him to the other direction.

As the evening drags on, I watch Nate mingle with everyone.

Everyone but me.

The people who had been so friendly earlier are suddenly distant, as if they, too, noticed his cold shoulder.

When he finally stepped away from his group, my gut twists, urging me not to follow.

But he has been ignoring my calls and texts, and if I want to tell him about our child, I need to be brave enough to talk to him face to face.

Ignoring the voice in my head screaming at me telling me not do it, not to go close to Nate, I take a deep breath and move toward him.