- ( Dylan's POV ) -
Elijah knows this place is mine.
I know that whenever he is in Raventon, he will come here.
What I did not expect was for him to arrive with Amelie, or Sophia,
whichever identity she has chosen to wear today.
I did not look at them right away when they entered Café Bulle De Ciel.
I did not need to.
There are presences you do not have to face to know they are already there.
The air shifts without warning, it grows heavier, and it feels as though
something pulls at your chest without permission.
I saw Elijah first through the reflection on the counter glass.
His back was straight, his posture composed, legitimacy worn like something
he was born into, as if he had the right to occupy every space he stepped into.
And beside him was Amelie.
I did not turn around.
I did not need to.
I knew the weight of her presence even with my back to her,
a kind of gravity I had avoided for a long time, yet one that had never truly left.
They sat in the center, in a spot visible from almost every angle.
As if it were deliberate.
As if it needed to be seen.
As if I needed to see it.
I heard Elijah's voice when the crew approached them.
"One hot americano. One cappuccino."
A bitter smile curved on my lips.
Some things are easy to claim when you grow up believing
the world already has a place for you.
I turned away, intending to head into my office.
I did not want to see how she smiled at Elijah.
I did not want to hear how natural their laughter sounded, as if nothing had changed,
as if they had not seen me, as if I had never been part of any memory at all.
But I heard it anyway.
And that hurt more.
"Dylan."
A voice stopped me.
Jasmine.
She was like light forcing its way into a room long ruled by shadow.
Her clothes were immaculate, her posture confident,
and she moved as if she belonged in spaces like this.
"I thought you were busy," I said.
She smiled. "For you? Never."
She stepped closer, without hesitation or question, and placed her hand on my arm,
as if she knew she could, as if she was certain.
And once again, I allowed it.
Not because I wanted her.
But because from the corner of my eye, I saw Amelie's movement falter.
Just one second.
But it was enough.
"Isn't that Elijah?" Jasmine asked freely. "When did he get back?
And who's the woman with him, they look close. His fiancée?"
Before I could answer, she released my arm and walked straight to their table.
I followed, intending to stop her, but I was already too late.
"Hello, you're Dylan's brother, Dr. Elijah Chen, right?" she said brightly.
"I'm Jasmine Hernandez, Dylan's future girlfriend."
I did not correct her.
I did not stop her.
I looked at Amelie.
And what I saw was not jealousy.
It was restraint.
As if she were holding something shattered inside her, forcing herself not to let it fall.
"Ah, Simeon Hernandez's youngest daughter," Elijah said politely. "Nice to meet you."
Then he looked at me.
"So it's true, you're partnered with Hernandez Holdings."
"Working with Hernandez Holdings," I replied.
He nodded. "Good to know."
But I felt the weight behind every word he chose.
Amelie stood.
"We need to go," she said, not looking at me.
Elijah nodded. "We still have to meet with Marie's agent."
As they walked away, I felt the pull of her presence, not in a glance or a goodbye,
but in a feeling that refused to let go.
And I wanted to chase it.
I did not understand why.
After they left, Jasmine sat on the stool in front of me.
"So," she said, "interesting couple."
"Don't start," I replied.
She smiled. "Relax. I'm just observing."
"It's over," I said, and only then did I realize the mistake in my choice of words.
"What?" She frowned. "What do you mean, over?"
I stayed silent.
"I know that look, Dylan," she continued. "Do you know her?
Don't tell me you have a past with that woman."
I met her gaze.
"Careful. You're assuming."
"Or maybe," she replied, "I'm not blind."
She stepped closer, lowering her voice.
"Just remember, there are women willing to stay, women who would do anything for you.
You deserve that." .... I smiled.
Bitterly, because if only she knew.
************
That afternoon, Marie came to see me. The heaviness on her face was unmistakable.
She asked for a moment, said it was urgent, and I let her into my office at the café.
She went straight to the point.
"There's a contract."
"What kind of contract?"
"Between Amelie and Elijah."
I went silent.
She pleaded, said it was for Amelie's family, for her mother, for Aunt Vilma,
who once treated me like her own son.
She handed me the papers, stamped confidential.
What stood out was simple and brutal.
She was not allowed to be in a relationship while the contract was in effect.
And if it was broken, there would be consequences.
I laughed, low and empty.
I stood and returned the papers to her.
"Don't waste your time," I said coldly.
"I don't care what exists between her and Elijah. That's no longer part of my life."
She left with heaviness in her eyes.
And I was left with new knowledge, and even more resentment.
Early morning at Alderidge Heights.
I was jogging, alone.
Until I saw her.
Amelie, running as well, her breathing strained, her movements restless.
Our eyes met.
She did not look away, and neither did I.
We passed each other like ghosts.
Yet I could feel that we both wanted to say something.
I stopped for a moment and drank water slowly, deliberately.
From the corner of my eye, I saw her glance back.
And then I knew.
I remembered the line in the contract.
I whispered to myself, " I will make you fall for me, Amelie."
" This time, you can't escape. "
This time, you will feel what it's like to be played.
*************
That night, I made a point of staying in the mansion.
I knew she liked to swim.
I went ahead of her.
I let the water cool the heat in my chest. When I climbed out, she was there,
standing at the edge, as if she had been caught mid-breath.
Only for a moment.
She left immediately.
I smiled.
The first step of the plan was a success.
The night grew deeper.
Later .....
My room was not far from the guest room where she stayed.
I heard a door open, footsteps moving down the hallway.
I followed her.
The corridor was quiet all the way to the kitchen.
She opened the refrigerator.
I stopped behind her, too close.
She did not notice at first, as if her thoughts were elsewhere.
I took a beer, my arm brushing her shoulder, my breath touching the side of her face.
"You're shaking," I whispered.
She turned sharply, startled, her cheeks flushed.
She quickly pulled away and returned to her room.
I leaned against the refrigerator, crushing the beer can in my grip until it nearly caved in.
I rubbed my temples.
Why, in those few seconds, did I not feel anger?
Why did I feel the urge to pull her into my arms?
My intention was to tempt her.
So why did it feel as though I was falling into my own trap?
*****************
The next morning, our grandfather summoned me.
For a breakfast and coffee in the garden, just Elijah and me, the air heavy.
He confirmed the truth of my partnership with Hernandez Holdings.
I did not deny it.
"It's time," he said, "to give you a place in our company."
And in that moment, I felt it clearly.
It was not only my emotions that were shifting.
My fate was moving with them.