Chapter 18 – A Table of Cold Smiles
The clinking of cutlery and the soft hum of conversation filled the air of the exclusive rooftop restaurant. Lena sat across from Adrian, her hands neatly folded in her lap, though inside they trembled. He had brought her here for a business lunch with several board members of his company—men and women whose names carried weight in every corner of the city.
She knew what was waiting the moment they walked in.
The whispers started almost immediately. Heads turned. Some women lowered their glasses to murmur behind their hands, while the men's eyes flickered with a mix of curiosity and amusement.
"That's her," someone whispered as they passed. "The scholarship girl."
Lena forced her chin up, each step a battle. Adrian, as always, moved with effortless authority. His presence silenced the room as they reached the private table. But the stares didn't fade.
"Adrian," one of the board members, Mr. Dalton, greeted with a polite smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "And… your guest." His pause was deliberate, as if the word guest carried more sting than a name.
Adrian's hand brushed lightly against Lena's back as he pulled out her chair. "This is Lena Hart," he said evenly, his voice carrying enough steel to cut glass. "She's here as my partner."
Lena's heart skipped. Partner? He hadn't used that word before. She glanced at him, but his face remained unreadable, his gaze already fixed on Dalton.
The lunch continued, filled with numbers, market reports, and subtle barbs. Every now and then, Lena caught fragments of conversation drifting her way.
"…so young…"
"…not her place…"
"…Clara was always more fitting…"
Her appetite shrank with each whisper. She kept her hands clasped tightly beneath the table, reminding herself not to let them see her flinch.
Finally, one of the women leaned forward, her smile sweet but her eyes sharp. "Miss Hart, I hear you've had… an interesting past. Quite ambitious, chasing opportunities even in your college days. That must've taken courage."
The table stilled. Lena's throat closed, the memory of those twisted photos flashing in her mind.
Before she could form a response, Adrian's voice cut through the tension like ice.
"Ambition is what separates leaders from followers," he said calmly, his gaze sweeping across the table. "And Lena has more integrity in her ambition than most of the people gossiping about her."
The woman flushed, her smile faltering. The others exchanged uneasy looks.
Lena sat frozen, her chest tight, heat blooming behind her eyes. Adrian hadn't just dismissed the gossip—he had defended her, publicly.
As the meal ended, the board members rose with polite farewells, their gazes softer than when they arrived. But Clara's shadow still lingered. The whispers hadn't disappeared. They had only been silenced, for now, by Adrian's authority.
When they stepped into the waiting car, Lena finally turned to him. "You didn't have to do that," she whispered.
Adrian's gaze slid to hers, steady and unreadable. "I don't defend what doesn't matter."
Her heart pounded, his words both sharp and tender at once. And though she couldn't quite breathe, one thing became clear—Clara's war was only pushing them closer.