The small, cozy kitchen fell back into a complete, comfortable silence.
Professor Julian picked up his chopsticks once again and picked up a small piece of cooked chicken. He chewed it slowly, staring down at his plate. His tense shoulders had visibly relaxed, and his quick, ragged breathing had finally settled down to a steady rhythm.
Even so, Veyra could still pick up on the lingering signs of deep stress. She noticed the slight tightness in his jawline, the subtle way his eyes kept drifting toward the dark window pane, and the shadow that had crossed his face the second she mentioned the research institute.
He had a history with that place, and it was clearly a painful one. She could feel the heavy weight of it sitting in the room between them.
A part of her desperately wanted to ask him more about it so she could understand what he had gone through, but she refrained from pushing. She had no desire to force open old wounds or drag up memories that hurt him.
Instead, she kept her thoughts to herself and stayed quiet, letting him enjoy his dinner in peace.
Nearly an hour later, Veyra said her goodbyes and stepped out of his small house.
The late evening air was pleasantly cool, and the quiet residential streets were completely empty. Leon was standing faithfully beside the black car, holding the door open for her the moment she approached.
"Are we heading straight back to the manor, ma’am?" he asked respectfully.
Veyra gave a short nod. "Yes, let us go home."
She climbed into the comfortable leather back seat and settled in for the drive. As the car pulled away from the curb, she reached down into her handbag, her fingers searching around until they brushed against a small, smooth glass object. She pulled it out into the dim light of the interior cabin.
It was the small bottle of sleep-aid essential oil. The exact same bottle she had retrieved from the trash bin earlier, the one Dorian had carelessly discarded without a second thought.
She held it gently in the palm of her hand. The clear glass felt cool against her skin, and the small label she had written by hand was still completely intact.
She had saved it instead of leaving it in the garbage, though she wasn’t entirely sure why she had bothered. Perhaps it was simply because she had put so much effort into making it, or because it belonged to her.
Without overthinking it any further, she slipped the small bottle back into her bag and zipped it shut.
The Thorne manor was dark and quiet by the time the car pulled up the long driveway.
Veyra walked quietly up the grand staircase and headed straight into her bedroom. She closed the door behind her, walked over to her closet, and pulled out her travel suitcase. Setting it on the edge of the bed, she reached into her bag and brought out the official university folder.
She opened it one last time, letting her eyes rest on the thick paper, the raised golden seal, the official signature, and the bold text printed across the top.
Medicinal Chemistry.
A small, proud smile touched her lips. She carefully slid the document back into its protective folder, laid it flat inside her suitcase, and zipped the bag completely closed. Then she lifted the suitcase and tucked it away into the deep back corner of her walk-in closet.
She would keep it hidden away and completely safe until the day classes officially started.
Directly across the wide hallway, Leon was inside his own quarters.
He sat quietly on the edge of his bed, leaning forward with his elbows resting heavily on his knees. His mind was racing, replaying every single detail of the afternoon’s events over and over again.
He thought about the tense standoff in the restaurant lobby, the arrogant attitude of Naya Whitmore, the loud slap that had echoed off the marble walls, and the drawn weapons.
He had unholstered his own gun during the fight and had been fully prepared to pull the trigger if anyone made a lethal move toward Veyra. Even though the immediate threat had ended and the crisis had been avoided, he knew deep down that the situation was far from over.
Naya Whitmore was definitely not the type of person to let a massive public humiliation go unanswered. He was absolute certain of that.
She was the spoiled daughter of a powerful councilman who was currently running for top political office. She had been publicly humiliated in front of high-society peers by a woman she considered inferior.
She would undoubtedly try to get revenge. She would look for any weakness, scheme behind the scenes, and do whatever it took to make Veyra suffer for what happened today.
Leon stood up from his bed, pacing across the floor of his room.
As a chief security guard assigned to protect her, he knew he could not keep an incident of this magnitude to himself. It was his duty to report it up the chain of command immediately before things spiraled out of hand.
He reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out his encrypted phone, and dialed Dorian Thorne’s private line.
The phone line began to ring on the other end.

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Story doesnt even make sense...