Charles had been stuck on the same clip for the past ten minutes—Elena's kiss with Victor. He replayed it again, and again, and again. His jaw tightened, his grip on the phone firm like he was about to crush it. His eyes didn't blink, brows furrowed, and his lips pressed into a hard line. Every time Victor's lips met Elena's, Charles's chest burned. Jealousy wasn't just crawling—it was dancing inside him.
He shook his head, whispering to himself, "She's not mine… never was." But deep down, a voice kept saying, Then why the hell does it hurt this much?
Mino, who had been lounging on the couch in Charles's penthouse, finally spoke up after watching him spiral in silence.
"Wow," Mino said in a dramatic tone, placing a hand on his chest like he was narrating a movie trailer. "Twist of fate, bro. The heartbreaker is still in love with the woman he broke her heart, but she's busy getting rebuilt by another man—on live TV!"
Charles shot him a death glare.
