Chapter 5: A Garden of Glances and Burning Hearts13Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNMYXxGWdTz
Irina looked like she was living her dream.
“You’ve changed so much,” Wanston said with a warm smile. “I almost didn’t recognize you. You’ve become a very fine woman.”
“Thank you,” she replied, her cheeks warming. “You also don’t look like the old Wanston.”
“Yeah,” Wanston chuckled. “Now I’ve become stronger,” he added in a mock-serious tone that made Irina laugh.
Their laughter mingled like a secret shared between old souls.
Across the room, Stephen watched them with a sharp, murderous stare. His jaw was tight, and fury clouded his expression.
Nikolai, standing nearby with a glass of wine in hand, noticed Stephen’s reaction. He followed his gaze to Irina and Wanston, then smirked and took a slow sip of wine.
Looks like something interesting is about to happen, he thought.
“Thank you, Irina,” Wanston said as their dance came to an end. “It was my pleasure.”
“The pleasure was mine,” she replied softly.
“If you’d like to take a walk, we could go to the garden,” he offered. “I know you’re not a fan of crowded places.”
Irina blinked, surprised. “Okaaay…”
As they turned to leave, Stephen’s voice cut through the air. “Where are you going?”
Irina paused, but Wanston stepped in, calm and unbothered. “Just for a walk.”
Before Stephen could say more, Victor approached with a gentle smile. “Yes, you both should go,” he said kindly.
“Okay, sir,” Irina and Wanston nodded, then headed toward the garden.
Stephen was about to follow when Victor grabbed his arm—firm and unyielding.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m going after them,” Stephen growled.
“Let them be,” Victor said, his tone calm but commanding. “Remember what I told you. Behave.”
Stephen clenched his fists.
“Did you forget everything?”
“I remember,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Good. Then act like it. Do your work, too.”
Just then, Mr. Hale approached Victor and nodded toward the departing figures. “They look happy.”
Victor glanced over, a thoughtful smile playing on his lips.13Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1lZLzt6o5G
“Yes,” he said. “They do.”
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“The sky is so beautiful tonight,” Irina whispered, her eyes tracing the shimmer of stars above them.
“But not as beautiful as you,” Wanston replied without hesitation.
Irina paused, startled. She turned to him, her expression frozen—wide-eyed, blank—and then color flushed her cheeks. She looked away.
“I… I heard about your mother,” he continued gently, his tone shifting. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. It must’ve been hard.”
Irina’s voice was soft, almost breaking. “It was hard… but I believe everything happens by God’s will. I’ve made peace with it.”
They fell into quiet conversation, wrapped in memories of childhood—of running barefoot through fields, laughter echoing through corridors, secrets whispered under trees. The night held them in a gentle silence, broken only by their shared smiles.
As the party began to fade, they returned to the estate where carriages and cars were waiting.
At the gate, Victor shook hands with the host.13Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5DPhUP11hN
“Thank you for inviting us.”
“It was our pleasure, Mr. Victor,” came the warm reply.
Wanston stepped ahead and opened the car door for Irina. But before she could enter, he gently took her hand and kissed it.
Irina froze, eyes widening in shock. A blush bloomed across her face, more intense than before.
Across the drive, Nikolai leaned against his car, smirking knowingly at the scene.
Stephen, standing nearby, clenched his fists. His jaw was tight, and his eyes burned with fury. One wrong move, and he looked ready to explode.
Wanston, leaned in just slightly toward Irina and said, in a low, sincere voice,13Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxYKR27UEkb
“Thank you… for today.”13Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUQmZGQqg5K
The ride home was painfully silent.
Stephen sat beside Irina in the back seat, his posture rigid, his eyes locked on the window like it held all the answers he didn’t want to hear. His jaw clenched and unclenched, the only sign of the storm brewing inside him.
Irina sat still, her hands resting nervously in her lap, occasionally brushing against the soft fabric of her dress. Her thoughts were a whirlwind—of the dance, Wanston’s hand on hers, the kiss he pressed to her fingers. She didn’t dare look at Stephen. She could feel the heat of his tension radiating off him like fire.
The silence between them was unbearable.
Not angry words. Not accusations. Just silence. Cold. Heavy. Burning.
The headlights of the car painted shifting shadows across her face, and for a second, she thought he might say something. But he didn’t. He just kept staring out the window, shoulders tight, fists clenched on his thighs.
When the car finally pulled up to the mansion, Stephen didn’t wait.
The second the driver opened the door, he stepped out and slammed it shut behind him with enough force to make Irina flinch. The sound echoed in the quiet night like a crack of thunder.
He didn’t look back.
He walked straight inside, disappearing into the shadows of the hallway, his footsteps loud against the marble floor.
Irina stepped out more slowly. She turned and headed toward her room.
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The night had deepened into a cold hush, the garden now cloaked in silver shadows. A faint breeze rustled the hedges, carrying with it the distant scent of roses and smoke.
Stephen stood alone in the courtyard, shoulders tense, his black coat hanging open in the wind. He lit another cigarette with sharp, angry hands — the flame revealing his drawn face, the raw fire in his eyes.
The cigarette glowed red in the dark, the only warmth in the midnight frost.
He had seen everything.13Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡayT6mp4uAV
Every stolen glance. Every brush of hands. Every damn smirk Wanston threw her way.
He took a long, slow drag — smoke curling from his lips like the storm boiling in his chest. His gaze locked onto the driveway where Irina and Wanston’s car had vanished minutes ago.
“Of course,” he muttered, voice sharp with venom. “Of course, he kissed her hand. Like she was already his.”
His jaw clenched, a nerve ticking beneath his skin.
He knew Wanston Hale — knew the lies polished into that smooth voice, the ambition behind his soft-spoken charm. Men like him didn’t love.13Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsldDbxa6LA
They conquered.
And Irina... she was walking straight into it.
But Irina wasn’t a prize.13Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBSyV1mtfe8
She wasn’t a toy to be won—or lost.13Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkAgCOTQMNB
She was his.
Stephen flicked the cigarette to the ground and crushed it under his boot, sparks scattering like his barely held temper.
He turned slowly, eyes lifting to the soft golden glow behind her bedroom window.
And in a whisper that burned like a vow, he said,13Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ75YEvgelvP
“No one — no one — takes what’s mine.”
