Elena's POV
My champagne glass slipped from my fingers.
The crystal shattered against the floor, and everyone turned to stare. But I couldn't look away from him. Dominic stood twenty feet away, his hand bleeding onto the white tablecloth, his face drained of all color like he'd seen a ghost.
Maybe he had.
"Dr. Castellano, are you alright?" Someone touched my elbow, but their voice sounded far away, muffled like I was underwater.
Dominic's eyes—those dark eyes I'd once loved—locked onto mine. His mouth opened, closed, opened again. No words came out. He looked exactly the same. Older, yes, with tiny lines around his eyes that hadn't been there before. But still him. Still the man who'd promised me forever and then vanished.
My throat closed up. Six years of carefully built walls threatened to crumble in an instant.
"I'm fine," I managed to say, though my voice shook. "Just clumsy."
A waiter hurried over to clean the broken glass. I forced myself to smile, to nod, to pretend my entire world wasn't tilting sideways. But my hands trembled as I smoothed down my dress.
Dominic started moving toward me. His injured hand left red drops on the floor.
No. Not now. Not here. Not ever.
I turned and slipped into the crowd of doctors and donors, weaving between conversations about research grants and surgical innovations. My heels clicked rapidly against the marble. Behind me, I heard someone call out, "Dr. Reeves, your hand—"
Reeves. Dr. Dominic Reeves. The new Chief of Cardiothoracic Surgery they'd been whispering about all week. The brilliant doctor who'd just transferred from Johns Hopkins.
Of course. Of course it was him.
"Elena!" His voice cut through the crowd, and I flinched. He'd called me Elena, not Dr. Castellano. Like we were still those two kids who'd fallen in love in medical school. Like he still had the right to use my first name.
I ducked into a hallway near the restrooms, my heart hammering against my ribs. This couldn't be happening. I'd researched this hospital thoroughly. I'd made sure he wasn't here. How had I missed this?
Footsteps echoed behind me. "Elena, please. Wait."
I spun around, anger flooding through me so fast it burned. "Don't."
Dominic stopped a few feet away. His face was pale, his eyes wide with shock. Blood still dripped from his hand, but he didn't seem to notice. "I thought... they told me you were..."
"Dead?" The word came out sharp as a scalpel. "Sorry to disappoint you."
"No, I—" He took a step closer, and I backed away. The hurt that flashed across his face should have made me feel guilty. It didn't. "I looked for you. For months, I looked everywhere."
"Not hard enough." My voice cracked, and I hated myself for it. I couldn't let him see me break. Not again.
"Your parents said you didn't want to be found. That you'd made it clear—"
"My parents?" Ice flooded my veins. "You talked to my parents?"
Dominic's expression shifted into confusion. "Of course I did. When you disappeared, I went to them first. Your mother said you'd left and didn't want any contact. That you'd... moved on."
The hallway spun. My mother. My mother had lied to him. But why would she—
No. I couldn't think about this now. Not with Dominic standing in front of me, looking at me like I was the answer to every question he'd ever had.
"I don't care what my mother told you." I lifted my chin, meeting his eyes directly. "That was six years ago. I'm different now. This—" I gestured between us, "—whatever this is, it's over. It's been over."
"Elena—"
"Dr. Castellano," I corrected sharply. "We work together now. That's all we are. Colleagues."
Something flickered in his eyes. Pain? Anger? I couldn't tell anymore. "You can't just—"
"Watch me." I turned to leave.
"I know about Adrian."
The words hit me like a physical blow. I froze, my hand gripping the wall for support. The hallway suddenly felt too small, too bright, too loud.
No. No, no, no.
Slowly, I turned back around. Dominic's face had changed completely. His jaw was set, his eyes hard with something that looked like fury and hurt mixed together.
"What did you say?" My voice came out as barely a whisper.
"Your son." Dominic's hand clenched into a fist, blood seeping between his fingers. "Adrian. I saw the photo on your office desk during the tour this morning. He has my eyes, Elena. My exact eyes. So tell me—" His voice broke, raw and desperate. "Tell me the truth. Is he mine?"
The world stopped spinning. My heart stopped beating. Everything just... stopped.
And from the shadows behind Dominic, another voice spoke—cold, familiar, and absolutely the last voice I expected to hear.
"Well, well. Isn't this a touching reunion?"
I looked past Dominic's shoulder and felt the blood drain from my face.
My mother stood there in an elegant black gown, smiling like a viper.