Dumped by My Ex, Then I Married the Richest Man

Outside the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, the sea was pitch black and restless. Inside, the room was warm and cozy, the fire in the fireplace flickering, casting a soft glow over the embracing couple.

Aria was dressed in a silky robe, nestled bonelessly in Sebastian's arms, her fingers lazily tracing circles on his chest. "Sebastian, wasn't today the day you were supposed to get the marriage license with Clarissa? Aren't you worried she'll be mad, since you're here with me instead?"

Sebastian let out a snort of laughter, his arm draped carelessly across the back of the sofa, posture screaming indifference. "Mad? What's she mad about?"

"She chased after me for six years, and the second I threw her a bone, she thought she was in. Seriously?"

"If it wasn't for the Beckett family's background and her knowing how to keep in line, I wouldn't even bother playing nice. She can never compare to you."

Aria's eyes flickered with amusement, but on the surface, she looked pitiful, delicate.

"Don't say that, Sebastian-it's my fault. If I hadn't gotten hurt back then, maybe you and her-"

"It had nothing to do with you, Aria!" He instantly tightened his hold on her, voice tense with frustration and guilt. "If it weren't for her, you wouldn't have missed out on such a huge opportunity. She's the one who owes you."

"Everything Clarissa has came at your expense. So tell me, what right does she have to feel wronged?"

The more he thought about it, the more it agitated him.

He leaned down, kissed the top of Aria's head, speaking gently, "Let's not talk about her anymore. She ruins the mood. Tonight's about you and me."

*****

At the same time, Clarissa stood in front of the apartment she had lived in for years, feeling an oddly familiar sense of unease.

She slid the key into the lock, but it wouldn't turn. A warm, firm hand suddenly covered hers from behind, applying a gentle twist.

Click-the door opened.

Elian stood just behind her, close enough that his breath brushed against her ear.

He chuckled quietly, teasing, "What, nervous to come home? Need me to carry you in, Mrs. Langley?"

Clarissa's ears warmed instantly. She stepped away quickly and walked into the apartment ahead of him.

The place wasn't big, but it was neat and cozy. A cat was napping lazily on the armrest of the couch and perked up at the noise.

Clarissa's face softened without her noticing. She crouched down, reaching out her hand. "Come here, Plumie."

The cat blinked, recognized her, and hopped down gracefully, brushing up against her legs affectionately.

Elian closed the door, leaning against the entryway cabinet, watching the woman and the cat. There was something unreadable in his eyes.

He raised an eyebrow, his voice lightly nostalgic with a hint of tenderness. "So it's still here. You've kept it all these years."

Clarissa gently ran her fingers over Plumie's soft fur, glancing up at him, an unexpected flicker of surprise in her gaze. "You remember?"

"Of course I remember." Elian walked over and crouched across from her, reaching out tentatively to touch Plumie's nose. The cat shifted back slightly but didn't run.

He chuckled, but his eyes stayed on Clarissa as he said meaningfully, "Back when I gave her to you, she was skin and bones, like a little rat. Now she's all fat and happy."

His words were like a key, suddenly unlocking a wave of memories.

One sweltering summer years ago, he had stood outside her place in a plain white T-shirt, sweat-damp hair stuck to his forehead, gently holding a scruffy little cat in his arms.

Back then, his family had fallen into crisis and he was about to be forced overseas-no idea what the future held.

The fire in his youth had long been dulled by reality, leaving behind only sharp edges and a quiet unwillingness to let go.

He shoved the kitten into Clarissa's arms, tone deliberately casual and nonchalant. "Here. Found it by the street, no one seemed to want it. Figured you're into these little furballs. If you don't mind, just keep it."

The moment she held that warm, tiny life, her heart softened.

She could tell-he cared about the cat. Maybe... he cared about her too.

But she knew he was leaving the country. So she swallowed that bitter sting in her chest, forced a bright smile, and said, "Thank you, Elian. I'll take good care of it. You take care too over there. Wishing you all the best."

He looked at her for a long beat before muttering a low "yeah," then turned around and walked off without glancing back once.

Pulled back from the memory, the air seemed laced with a quiet sense of loss.

Elian scratched under Plumie's chin, and the kitten purred contentedly, like it finally remembered him.

He looked up, that mischievous glint returning to his eyes, lips curling into a teasing grin. "You know, Clarissa, you took in this cat, and now married me so decisively. Don't tell me... you've actually been into me all along?"

His voice rose playfully, body leaning forward just slightly, closing the gap between them.

Clarissa froze at his sudden suggestion, cheeks blazing red. Flustered and annoyed, she blurted, "Elian! Don't talk nonsense!"

"Nonsense?" Elian chuckled low, his gaze locked onto hers, intense enough to pull her in. "Then explain-why me, exactly?"

Every word hit straight, with an intensity that made the air itself thicken with tension.

"Stop flattering yourself!" Her heart pounded like crazy. She tried to sound firm, but his nearness robbed her voice of its usual steadiness.

"I'm flattering myself?" Elian leaned in closer, so near their noses almost touched. His voice dropped to a murmur, intimate and dangerous. "Clarissa... say that again, looking me in the eye."

Reluctantly, she met his gaze-dark, deep, and swirling with emotion she couldn't quite name. It was overwhelming and magnetic.

She opened her mouth but couldn't get a word out.

They just stared, like two stubborn cubs in a silent standoff, neither backing down, yet inching closer and closer without even noticing-close enough to feel each other's breath.

"Clarissa, can I... kiss you?"

Elian's voice was barely audible, laced with hesitation and vulnerability. As he leaned in, his warm breath brushed her lips-

Clarissa jolted like she'd been snapped out of a trance.

"No!" she shot up like a spring, fumbling for words. "I-I need to pack my stuff!"

Then she bolted into the bedroom and slammed the door behind her like she was escaping something terrifying.

Silence took over the living room, broken only by a confused "meow" from Plumie.

Elian stayed frozen in his half-crouch, staring at the shut door. The heat in his eyes dimmed, slowly replaced by something deeper-longing, thick with regret.

He straightened up and walked over to the window, staring out at the city lights. He lit a cigarette but didn't take a drag.

Regret filled his chest.

Why did he leave all those years ago?

Why didn't he just stay no matter what?

If he'd been just a little braver, a little more certain, maybe they wouldn't have lost six years.

Without that six-year gap... how could he have let that bastard Sebastian hurt her so badly?