Vespera Nightingale

The elite social scene was always the same: a sea of artificial smiles, luxurious outfits, and fleeting bonds. It felt like an exhausting cycle of vanity, where finding even one genuine person was as tough as hunting for a diamond in a dump.

Everyone mingled, sporting the expressions that looked best for the cameras.

For Ezekiel Sterling, there was no need to put on a show. He stood there like an unmovable iceberg, cold, distant, and famously uninterested in the social antics around him.

Next to him, a woman clung to his arm, the only person he truly tolerated. She constantly checked his expression, her laughter ringing a bit too loudly as she tried to close the gap between them.

“Thanks for picking me up at the airport earlier, Kiel. I thought for sure you’d be swamped with work,” Lynn Astor said, her bright smile fixed on him.

Ezekiel glanced down at her, maintaining a neutral expression. “I made time. It’s been a while since you’ve been home,” he replied, his voice steady and familiar, but lacking the warmth she seemed to want.

Suddenly, the background noise of the ballroom erupted into a wave of applause.

Jerry Gray had arrived. In his mid-thirties and the youngest son from a powerful family, Jerry was a man of many talents. He is a popular writer, a respected director, and a genius behind numerous hits. He stepped into the spotlight, but he wasn’t alone.

Hooked onto his arm was a woman.

She was strikingly beautiful, clad in a custom emerald gown. This wasn’t just a regular silk slip; it was a sculptural work of art with a high, pleated neckline and a daring, sheer-paneled waist that flowed into an extravagant train.

The vibrant color seemed to absorb the room's light.

The crowd held its breath. Who was this stunning figure beside Jerry Gray?

Ezekiel froze. His heart didn’t just beat; it pounded. It was her, the woman from the airport. The dress seemed tailored just for her. It was as if emerald was her color and it doesn't belong to anyone.

But it wasn’t just the stunning appearance. It was her face. She looked like the one woman who had haunted his dreams for three long years.

Next to him, Lynn gasped, her grip on his arm tightening until her knuckles turned white. “Lorna...”

The name hung in the air like a forbidden spell. Lynn quickly regained her composure, though her heart raced. It couldn’t be. She would recognize her own twin sister, even if they weren’t identical. And more importantly, Lorna was dead.

Lynn glanced at Ezekiel and felt a sharp stab of dread. A look she hadn’t seen in years appeared on his face: fear, relief, and an intense, raw longing.

Something inside Lynn shattered. Her voice turned sharp, her teeth gritting as she whispered, “It can’t be her, Kiel. Lorna doesn’t look like that. She’s dead.”

Ezekiel’s eyes were still glued to the woman in emerald. “Her body was never found, Lynn,” he replied simply.

Without another word, he detached himself from Lynn and walked toward Jerry, who was already surrounded by a group of elite guests. Jerry looked flush with pride as he introduced the woman.

When Jerry saw Ezekiel, his face lit up. “Ezekiel, my bro! Great to see you!”

At that moment, the woman in the emerald dress turned. Her posture was perfect, her smile sweet yet practiced. Ezekiel’s heart raced. She looked like her, but the vibe was entirely different. It was cooler, and definitely more dangerous.

Jerry, always cheerful outside of filming, eagerly greeted one of his investors. “Ezekiel, thanks for investing in the new series. We’re going to make history.” Noticing the tension in Ezekiel’s gaze, Jerry's smile turned teasing.

“Ezekiel, meet a dear friend of mine, Vespera Nightingale. Vespera, here’s one of our main investors, Ezekiel Sterling. This is the guy I was telling you about.”

The woman’s smile widened, reaching a level of perfect, polite warmth. She extended her hand, a hand that felt soft, steady, and devoid of any familiar markings.

Vespera... Ezekiel repeated in his mind. She really didn’t look surprised to see him; she regarded him as if they were strangers meeting for the first time.

“Oh, it’s lovely to meet you, Mr. Sterling,” she said.

The voice.

It was that same melodic tone that had whispered his name in the dark, yet now the rhythm felt different, more confident, more distant.

Ezekiel found himself paralyzed, staring at her outstretched hand as the world around him faded into a blur of impossible questions.

Vespera’s hand lingered in the air, a graceful gesture that Ezekiel seemed unable to accept. He looked like a man lost in a past that everyone else had buried.

“Um... Mr. Sterling?” Vespera called softly, her voice pulling him back from his daze.

He blinked, a faint, forced smile creeping onto his face as he finally reached out. When his fingers wrapped around hers, the sensation was jarring. His hand was like ice, trembling with a subtle, repressed shake that sent a chill down his spine. Her warm skin felt like fire.

But Ezekiel didn’t let go.

He gazed down at their joined hands with an intensity that bordered on obsession, his thumb tracing her knuckles as if searching for something familiar.

Vespera’s brow furrowed in genuine confusion. She cast a helpless look toward Jerry, who simply offered a teasing grin and mouthed, “He seems to like you.”

Vespera looked away, her wide, innocent eyes blinking before she spoke again, her tone sweet and concerned. “Mr. Sterling? Are you alright? You look quite pale.”

The sound of her voice shattered the last thread of his control. He abruptly recovered, dropping her hand as if it had burned him, and turned away without a word. He walked into the crowd, his steps unsteady.

Vespera watched him leave, a hint of worry on her face. She turned back to Jerry. “I think Mr. Sterling isn’t feeling well. He seemed… shaken.”

Jerry just laughed, shaking his head. “I think he fell in love with you at first sight, Vespera. The guy couldn’t take his eyes off you.”

Vespera laughed lightly. “Oh, come on. That’s ridiculous.”

Jerry chuckled with her, but then his expression shifted to something more serious. “The announcement will be made tomorrow. Once the world knows you’re the lead, everything’s going to change. Be ready for questions, scrutiny... maybe even some hate. Just be prepared.”

Vespera’s smile stayed in place but became sharper. “Of course. I’m always ready.”

A moment later, Jerry excused himself to chat with other colleagues, leaving Vespera to navigate the room on her own. She moved through the elite crowd like a swan gliding through dark waters.

People stared, some with admiration, others with envy, but she brushed off their gazes. It was just part of the price for being stunningly gorgeous.

Needing a moment of solitude, Vespera headed toward the terrace entrance. As she stepped through the archway, she nearly bumped into a woman.

The woman’s pupils dilated in shock at the sight of Vespera. Her breath hitched, and she drained of color. Vespera offered a faint, slightly awkward smile and bowed her head politely. “I’m sorry,” she murmured before slipping past her.

The woman remained frozen, barely able to breathe as Vespera disappeared into the night.

Outside, the noise of the gala faded to a dull hum. Vespera walked toward the stone railing, but paused when she spotted a silhouette leaning against the wall.

A small orange ember glowed in the dark… it was Ezekiel, smoking.

She stayed still for a moment, the moonlight glinting off her emerald dress. When Ezekiel finally looked up, their eyes locked. Vespera offered that same polite smile, but Ezekiel's face was a mask of torment.

He crushed the cigarette under his shoe with a sudden, forceful motion and took a step towards her. Each heavy step carried three years of grief and a sudden, terrifying hope.

He stopped just inches from her, his shadow looming over her smaller figure.

“Mr. Sterling?” Vespera asked, concern lacing her voice as she examined his haggard features. He doesn't look okay. “Are you really okay? You look—”

“Stop it,” he interrupted, his voice a low, jagged rasp.

He reached out, his hand hovering near her face, almost like he wanted to touch her but was scared she might vanish. His eyes were serious, searching hers for any flicker of recognition.

“I don’t know what game you’re playing, or why you’re using that name,” he whispered, his voice quivering with raw, desperate emotion. “But I know my heart, and I know the woman I lost. I’m sorry I couldn’t find you back then... but I know it’s you. I know it’s you, Lorna.”