Chapter 6

Lena woke up in bed, her body aching. Andrew stood beside her, cold and unreadable.

"You really outdid yourself this time," he said, voice like ice. "I should've left you in there for three days, but Nicole—being so generous—begged me to let you out.

"I know you still can't let go, but listen up, Lena. I will never love a girl twelve years younger than me. You and I? Not happening."

The door slammed behind him before she could even open her mouth.

Lena leaned against the headboard, eyes shut, exhaling slow. 'Andrew... I really don't love you anymore.'

***

The Rohan estate buzzed with wedding prep. Nicole flitted around, barking orders, all smiles as she looped her arm through Lena's—like their messy history had magically disappeared.

"The venue's set, decorations are perfect. Only thing missing? A bridesmaid. Lena, you'd be PERFECT! Who knows? Maybe you'll hit it off with a groomsman and finally get a boyfriend."

Her voice dripped with fake sweetness.

Lena wasn't great at pretending. She pulled her arm free, ready to shut it down, when a cold voice cut through the air.

"She can't be a bridesmaid."

Both girls turned. Andrew stood behind them.

Nicole blinked. "Why not?"

He didn't answer. Just looked at Lena.

She'd been different lately. No desperate clinging, no pathetic attempts to get his attention. But the idea of her finding a boyfriend? That irritated him.

Not that he knew why.

His jaw tensed, mind scrambling for an excuse, but Lena spoke first.

"I'm not even in your age group. It wouldn't be appropriate."

Not the real reason—she'd be gone before the wedding even happened—but it worked.

Andrew gave a small nod. Nicole sighed. End of discussion.

Just as Lena exhaled, ready to escape, Nicole spoke up again.

"If Lena can't be my bridesmaid, then as a sign of your blessing, why don't you give me the wedding dress you designed? I've always loved it."

Lena froze, instinctively glancing at Andrew.

That dress—she'd designed it at eighteen. It had even won an award. Countless heiresses had begged to buy it, but she refused every single one.

Because it was meant for her.

She'd dreamed of wearing it on her wedding day. To Andrew.

And he knew that. But instead of shutting Nicole down, he hesitated—then spoke.

"Lena, if you sell me the gown, I'll agree to whatever condition you name."

A smirk ghosted across her lips. "No need. Nicole's right—I should give you both my blessing. Consider it my wedding gift."

She made a quick call. Minutes later, boutique staff arrived, carefully handing the gown to Nicole.

Beaming, Nicole snatched it up and bolted for the fitting room, too thrilled to keep tormenting Lena.

Lena watched her go, her face unreadable, then turned back toward her room. No anger. No sadness. Just nothing.

Andrew, however, stood frozen, staring after her, lost in thought.

***

Late that night, Lena packed her suitcase alone. Almost everything was set—the paperwork, the plans. Soon, she'd be gone.

Just as she stashed her luggage and was about to crash, the door slammed open.

Andrew stormed in, grabbed her wrist, and snapped, "What did you do to the wedding dress? Nicole put it on, and now she's covered in rashes. Itching like crazy. Were you trying to kill her?"

Under the dim yellow light, his eyes burned, sharp enough to cut.

Lena yanked back. "I didn't touch it! I wouldn't—I couldn't! Why would I hurt her?"

His face went cold. Then—shove. She hit the bed, his glare like ice.

"I don't care what excuse you have. You still won't let me go, fine. But going after Nicole?" His voice dropped, lethal. "You'd better pray she's fine, or else—"

Before he could finish, a maid rushed in. "Mr. Rohan! Ms. Jenner just fainted!"

Andrew stiffened. "Watch Lena. Don't let her escape."

Then he was gone.