The CEO's Regret: Darling, Don’t Leave Me novel Chapter 92

Chapter 70: A Spectator.

Vanessa

I met Ethan Blackwood long before Clara even knew who he was.

Long before she pronounced his surname as if it belonged to her.

I met him at a charity gala organized by my father’s foundation. I remember the night perfectly…

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The hotel’s ballroom lit by crystal chandeliers, champagne glasses glistening under warm lights, measured conversations, strategic laughter. It was one of those events where no one went just for charity; they went for alliances, for visibility, for power.

My father introduced me to several influential families that night. And then I saw them come in.

The Blackwoods.

Ethan walked with his parents with that natural security that is not learned, it is inherited.

Impeccable dark suit, straight back, firm jaw. He wasn’t the most smiling in the room, but he didn’t need it

either.

There was something about him that was imposing.

My father approached his with that diplomatic tone used by men who manage fortunes.

“Ricardo, it’s a pleasure to see you.”

And that’s when our worlds formally intersected.

“Vanessa, this is Ethan Blackwood.”

We looked at each other. It was not a casual look.

It was one of those that lasts half a second longer than necessary.

“A pleasure,” he said, holding out his hand.

His voice was deep, controlled.

When I shook his hand I felt a firmness that I liked.

“The pleasure is mine,” I replied.

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That night we talked more about protocol. We left the group under the excuse of commenting on the

event. We discovered that we had both studied at similar universities, that we shared a business vision,

that we understood the weight of the surnames we carried.

It was not a teenage crush.

It was recognition.

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Hknew who he was, I knew what his last name meant. And I also knew what mine meant. But beyond

that… I liked the way he looked at me.

Without condescension, without trying to impress me.

As if he were evaluating whether I was as firm as I appeared.

That night, when I returned home, I knew something clearly… I wanted him, not on a whim.

As a project, as a companion. Like the man who should be by my side.

Because it fit, because together we were a balance of power.

Because I understood his world and he understood mine.

It didn’t take long for us to see each other again. And time did its thing… Later, strategic dinners arrived that became less strategic.

Meetings that extended beyond work, laughter that began to be authentic.

The romance began naturally… No eternal promises. No dramatic statements.

Two adults who knew what they wanted. Or so I thought.

I remember one night in particular, we were on the terrace of a tall restaurant, the city stretching out below

us like a board of lights.

He was talking about business expansion… I listened to him.

And I thought, “This man is going to go very far.” And wanted to be there when he did.

My heart was pounding at that time. With enthusiasm… With expectation.

I thought it was only a matter of time before he understood that I was the logical choice.

The right woman, the one who fit his surname. But life does not move by logic.

It moves through history.

And Ethan’s story had a name, Clara.

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I never hated her, that’s the funny thing. I didn’t hate her, it made me uncomfortable. Because she didn’t fit

into our perfect scheme.

She was not an alliance, she was not a strategy. It was love… And against that… It’s harder to compete.

The years passed, Ethan and I worked together. We grew professionally, we built trust. But there was

always something that didn’t quite cross the line.

I waited patiently. Convinced that time would give me the place I deserved.

He never promised me marriage, but he didn’t deny me a future either.

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Chapter 70 A Spectator

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And I, proud as I am, never demanded.

Because I was sure that he would eventually choose me.

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Today I entered his office without knocking, as always. And he asked me to knock on the door.

From today. That small change was an alarm, Ethan doesn’t make small changes for no reason.

Something is moving.

I came out with the uncomfortable feeling installed in my chest. Later, I needed to review some

administrative pending and I went to her assistant’s office.

She was not there, the electronic agenda was open on the screen! don’t usually invade, but something

pushed me. A hunch that I didn’t want to ignore, I slid the cursor barely.

Orders of the day, meetings. Special orders and there it was.

“Bouquet Delivery – Clara Sinclair.”

Date: today.

Red roses.

The air became heavy.

I read the line twice, three times. My heart didn’t beat any faster. It shrank.

As if someone had squeezed it tightly from within.

Red roses, not corporate. Non–diplomatic… Personal.

I felt the heat rise up my neck, so that’s it. It was not the limit at the door by protocol.

It was because of her. Clara.

The woman who was always the shadow among us, the only one capable of moving it without strategy.

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The only one for which he would change habits. I closed the agenda slowly.

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