Chapter 5 Lena's Pov

I didn't want to be here.

The dress , the heels pinched and the room was too full of pretentious people holding glasses of wine like they actually knew what they were tasting. I would've left the moment I walked in if it weren't for Maya clutching my arm like her life depended on it.

"Come on," she whispered, practically bouncing on her toes. "This is the biggest art function of the year and Raymond Vale himself is supposed to make an appearance. You can't just skip out on a chance to breathe the same air as a genius."

I rolled my eyes. "I can barely breathe in this dress."

Maya didn't laugh. She was too busy scanning the glittering crowd for her elusive artist crush. I sighed and reached for a glass of champagne from a tray drifting past, taking a small sip and trying not to wince. I didn't like champagne, I didn't like these kinds of events. I didn't like being surrounded by things that made me feel... small.

It had been months since the alley.

Months since the panic attacks and the police interviews. Since the anonymous box and the note that made my blood freeze. I had buried all of it-along with him, the man I never saw again. The one who saved me and scared me all in the same breath.

Ray.

Just thinking of the name sent a ripple down my spine but that was behind me now. My therapist said so. I had done the work, I had moved on. I even had a new job, new apartment and a new number.

I was a new Lena or so I thought.

"Lena." Maya's voice cut through my thoughts like a razor. "Oh my God. Don't turn around, but I think he's here."

"Who?"

"Raymond Vale--The Raymond Vale. He just walked in."

Despite myself, my heart jumped. "So what? You came for him. I'm just here for moral support and free drinks."

She stared at me, then grinned slowly. "You should totally meet him. I read in an interview that he loves talking to people outside the art scene. You're perfect."

"Maya, no-"

But she was already dragging me across the floor like a child tugging a balloon, weaving through well-dressed elites and murmuring compliments until we stopped in front of a man surrounded by admirers.

And then everything inside me went still.

Ray---My Ray.

No... Not my anything but it was him. I would never forget those eyes-dark and unreadable. The quiet intensity that clung to him like a second skin, except now he was dressed in a midnight-black suit, collar open, tie absent. He looked so polished, so calm, like the kind of man who lived in penthouses and hosted private gallery nights with whispered invitations.

Raymond Vale.

That's when it hit me. He was a billionaire, a world-renowned artist and he was staring right at me.

Our eyes locked. I felt like I had been punched in the stomach.

"Lena," Maya whispered beside me, clearly oblivious to the fact that my brain had just imploded. "Say something."

I opened my mouth but nothing came out.

Ray's lips curled slightly-not into a smile, not fully but it was recognition.

"Miss?" he said smoothly, his voice the same deep murmur I remembered. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

I blinked. Swallowed. "I... I think I have."

He chuckled softly, and it was terrifying how charming he sounded. "That's usually my effect at these things."

Maya stepped in, practically buzzing. "I'm Maya, and this is Lena. She's not really into art, but I had to drag her out tonight."

"Is that so?" Ray tilted his head, his gaze never leaving mine. "Then I must thank you, Maya, for bringing such... unforgettable company."

Maya giggled like a schoolgirl but I couldn't breathe.

"I-" I forced words out. "We should go."

Ray held out a hand. "Actually, Lena, would you mind staying for a moment? I'd like to speak with you privately, if that's all right."

Maya's eyes widened. "Wait, what?"

"I promise it won't take long."

It felt like the whole room had gone quiet, though I knew that was just in my head. Maya looked at me, confused. I gave her a small nod and she reluctantly stepped away. Ray gestured toward a quieter corner of the gallery, past a curtain where soft jazz played and only a few guests lingered. I followed him.

The moment we were alone, I stopped walking. "Why didn't you tell me?"

He turned. "Tell you what?"

"Who you were." My voice was low but sharp. "You knew me, you saved me, you watched me and the whole time, you were this-Raymond Vale? The man who sells portraits of pain for millions?"

"Yes I am. Is that a problem?" He asked me and I froze.

I swallowed hard, suddenly aware of how far I was from the rest of the room. How no one would hear me if I screamed but I didn't feel afraid and that scared me most of all.

"You're insane," I whispered.

He stepped closer. "Maybe but I never lied about how I felt."

"And how is that, exactly?"

His voice dropped lower, nearly a whisper. "You were mine before I met you, Lena. I saw you long before I touched your world and now that I have... I can't let go."

I should've slapped him. I should've run but instead, I stood there frozen.

Because part of me-the broken, twisted part-felt safer with him than I ever had with anyone else.

Even now........Especially now.

His eyes softened. "I'll keep my distance, if that's what you want but if danger ever comes again... you'll find me close."

He turned to go.

I should've stopped him or maybe I shouldn't have followed him in the first place but as he walked away, I knew something deep and dangerous had just resurfaced.

And this time, I wouldn't be able to bury it again.