CHAPTER 3: WE MEET AGAIN
1232 Words
(Ethan’s POV)
I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
The petite woman from the hospital was limping out of the emergency entrance.
“Miss, please, you really should—” a nurse called after her.
But she ignored her just like she did me and stormed out of the hospital.
I blinked, still trying to process her audacity.
I’d fought wars. Commanded armies. Toppled kingdoms.
And yet, here I stood, rendered completely speechless by a woman who barely reached my chest.
In over three thousand years of existence, no one, absolutely no one had ever dared speak to me the way she had.
People usually either cowered in my presence or fell over themselves trying to please me.
But not her.
She’d looked me straight in the eye and said exactly what she thought, not minding the consequences.
I couldn’t move. I just stood there, stunned.
Who is this woman?
“James,” I called to my driver without looking away.
“Yes, sir?”
“Follow that woman. Make sure she gets home safely.”
He nodded and left without question.
I was still reeling. The events of the day played back like a blur—
One minute, I was scrolling through reports in the back seat of the car…
Then came screeching brakes and a dull thud.
I’d leapt out without thinking. Dropped to my knees, ignoring the damage to my expensive suit.
And when I’d gathered her into my arms… something inside me shifted.
She’d felt fragile. Breakable. Yet somehow… right.
Like she belonged there, in my arms.
But when she opened her eyes, my world tilted completely.
Those eyes.
Deep emerald, with flecks of gold that shimmered in the light.
For one heart-stopping second, I thought… I hoped…
But it wasn’t her. It wasn’t Sera.
Still—why did her eyes look so much like Sera’s?
That was what haunted me.
Her face was unfamiliar. Her voice sharp, even brash.
But those eyes...They were hers.
The same rare color.
But this woman? This fierce, wild little storm?
She was nothing like Sera.
Sera had been soft. Warm.
Her voice could calm a raging beast. Her presence had soothed the fire in me.
But her?
Her sharp tongue could drive a sane man mad.
And the way she looked at me… like I was the fire. And she wasn’t the least bit afraid to burn.
My phone rang, slicing through my thoughts.
I fumbled for it, my hands still slightly unsteady.
Anthony.
“Sir,” he said briskly, “we found someone.”
I straightened. “Found who?”
“The obsidian pendant. Someone cracked it. Translated the full inscription perfectly.”
I froze. “That’s impossible.”
“I thought so too. But I checked it myself. Word for word. Including the old dialect.”
For a moment, I forgot how to breathe.
“You’re certain?”
“Verified it against the original text. Every single rune matches. She even mentioned the blood magic.”
A surge of something I hadn’t felt in centuries thundered through me.
Hope.
I had searched for so long. So damn long.
Scholars, mystics, historians… they’d all failed me.
But now someone had succeeded.
"I need to meet her," I said, my voice urgent. "Tonight."
"I've been trying to reach her for a while now, but I'll send her an email invite to the Hillcrest gala. She'll be there."
The Hillcrest gala. Of course. As one of their biggest clients and investors, I was hosting the damned thing.
Under normal circumstances, I would have made an appearance, written a substantial check, and left as quickly as possible.
I hated crowds, hated the small talk and meaningless socializing that came with maintaining my human facade.
But tonight would be different. Tonight, I might finally get the answers I'd been searching for centuries.
“Make sure she’s comfortable,” I said. “Whatever she needs, whatever she wants.”
“Understood. I’ll take care of it.”
“Good. Thank you.”
I ended the call and stood there, trying to steady my heartbeat.
The pendant had been my only clue. My last thread of hope to finding Sera again.
And now...
Now I had a chance.
In that moment, the sharp-tongued woman from the hospital faded from my mind.
All I could think about was Sera—
And the thought of finally reuniting with her again.
---
The Hillcrest gala was already in full swing by the time I arrived.
The grand ballroom glittered beneath crystal chandeliers, the city's elite draped in silk and tuxedos.
The air buzzed with laughter, wine, and the elegant strains of a live quartet.
I moved through the crowd with ease, offering polite nods and brief smiles, but my focus was elsewhere.
Every few minutes, my eyes swept the room.
Looking.
“Isn’t she here yet?” I asked for the fifth—maybe tenth time.
“She’s on her way,” Anthony replied calmly. “I’ll let you know the moment she arrives.”
I nodded, tapping my fingers restlessly against my glass.
“Sir,” Anthony returned minutes later, appearing at my side like a shadow. “She’s here.”
My pulse surged. “Where?”
“By the entrance. Getting her coat checked.”
I turned and my breath caught.
There, by the coat check...
It was her.
The same petite firecracker from the hospital.
She was the expert?
She stood tall, poised in a midnight blue gown that clung to her curves and flowed like water around her feet.
Her auburn hair was packed up in a way that exposed the elegant line of her neck.
And those eyes… just as vivid. Just as defiant.
She wasn't limping anymore, though I could tell by the careful way she moved that she was still in pain.
Stubborn woman. She should have been home, resting, not standing in a ballroom full of strangers.
“Sir?” Anthony’s voice broke through. “Should I bring her over?”
I shook my head. “No. I’ll go to her.”
She turned just as I approached, her eyes locking with mine.
“You again,” she breathed, the words laced with surprise and irritation.
“Are you following me?”
I chuckled. “I could ask you the same.”
Her brows rose. “Well, if you’re here to finally apologize for almost killing me, I'm afraid it's too late. I’ve got more important things to deal with.”
I laughed softly. “I’m curious—what could be more important than your rest and recovery?”
“If you must know, I’m here to meet Mr. Ethan Drayes. I have important business with him, and my job depends on it. So if you’ll excuse me—”
“Miss Marco!” Anthony appeared again, perfectly timed. “Glad you could make it.”
He turned to me with a knowing smile. “Mr. Drayes, this is Miss Ayla Marco, the antique expert I mentioned.”
She blinked. “Wait what?... This man is Mr Ethan Drayes?”
Anthony nodded.
I watched as the color drained from her face. She froze, speechless for the first time.
I couldn't help the grin that tugged at my lips.
Oh my days....
This was going to be a very interesting evening and to crown it all he finally arrived.
Mr Rowan Hills.
- Writer
