Victor Sherlock's mansion sat like a palace at the edge of the hills—sleek marble walls, wide glass windows that reflected the twilight sky, and a fountain that sang quietly in the center of a trimmed courtyard. The villa was luxurious but not loud. Every inch of it spoke wealth and quiet pride. Tonight, however, it felt unusually still.
Elena stepped out of the car, her heels clicking softly against the stone driveway. The silence struck her first. Not a single servant moved across the massive entrance. It was clear Victor had asked everyone to leave. She paused at the grand front door, raising a hand to knock—but before her fingers touched it, the door slowly swung open on its own.
She blinked. "Okay... dramatic?" she muttered, stepping inside.
The main hall welcomed her like a dream. Warm golden lights lined the ceiling. The floor sparkled under her feet. And there, scattered delicately along the marble path, were red rose petals—so many of them, they formed a soft trail leading up the staircase.
Elena smirked, one hand resting on her belly as she glanced around. "Victor, you love showing-off."
She looked stunning in a long black gown that hugged her figure in all the right places. The soft fabric fell over her baby bump, elegant yet proud, as if she wore her motherhood like a badge. Her dark waves framed her face, and her red lips curved in amusement as she took in the effort.
On the first step, a folded note waited beside a single rose.
"For the woman who's haunted my mind since the day we met."
Elena chuckled and picked it up. "Cheesy... but cute."
She continued climbing the stairs, each turn revealing more petals, more notes. Another message read:
"Your silence speaks louder than the noise in my life."
Beside it, a glass sat on a silver tray with a bottle of red wine and a tag that said:
"For courage—if you need it."
Elena raised a brow, amused. "What makes him think I'll need courage?" she whispered, taking the glass but not drinking.
As she reached the long hallway leading to his bedroom, the soft tune of a romantic jazz song began to play from hidden speakers. The music wrapped around her like a soft whisper, and she shook her head with a half-smile.
"All this... for a one-night stand?" she said to herself, walking slowly. "This man has been planning this for weeks, hasn't he?"
Finally, she reached the last door. It creaked open, revealing a dimly lit room, the air thick with candlelight and the faint scent of roses.
Victor stood in the center, his back to her. Shirtless. His hips swayed slowly to the rhythm of the music, a single red rose stem caught between his teeth. He held a half-full glass of wine in one hand, lost in the performance he clearly thought would impress her.
Elena leaned against the doorframe, watching with amused disbelief.
But then Victor turned around—and everything changed.
His smile froze. The rose slipped from his mouth. The wine glass nearly tipped in his hand.
His eyes dropped immediately to her belly, and in a moment that felt like it stretched forever, he just stared.
No words. No clever lines. Just pure shock.
The silence that followed was louder than anything Victor had ever said.
"Ta-da!" Elena said brightly, spreading her arms with a playful smile as she stepped into the room.
Victor didn't move. He blinked a few times, then wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, clearly trying to decide if he was drunk—or just seeing things.
"Hello?" Elena said, raising a brow. "I'm standing right here. Are you planning to offer me a seat or just stare all night?"
Victor finally found his voice, though it came out shaky. "When did you become… pregnant?"
Elena gave a soft shrug, her smile still in place. "Eight months ago. Surprise."
Victor lowered the glass of wine from his hand slowly and set it down on the nearby table. Still speechless, he grabbed a long-sleeved shirt draped over a chair and threw it on, though he left the buttons half undone. His chest still peeked through.
"Damn," he muttered under his breath, pacing. "I should've known you had a trump card saved for this moment."
Elena chuckled. "Come on, Victor. Don't say it like that. You're making me sound like some kind of villain—or worse, like I suddenly got ugly."
He shot her a sharp look, a mix of disbelief and something else she couldn't place. "We're all pawns in your game, aren't we?"
She walked over and sat gently beside him on the edge of the couch, resting her hand on her belly. "No, dear. I was already pregnant before you ever made your little 'come to my villa' request."
She could barely hold back a laugh. The way his face dropped in disappointment—it was almost too good. Her inner voice was screaming with laughter, but she kept her expression calm.
Victor turned to her, his tone more serious now. "Now I get it. Now I understand why Chloe didn't even think twice before stabbing you in the back and running."
Elena's smile vanished.
Her eyes darkened as she sat up straighter. "You know what? I didn't tell you about this pregnancy because it's my secret. It's the only part of me no one has touched, ruined, or used against me. If you want to scream, shout, throw a tantrum—go ahead. But don't drag up the pain I've spent months trying to bury."
Victor stared at her for a long second. Then something cold passed through his eyes.
"You've succeeded, then," he said bitterly, standing up. "Don't worry—I'll still keep my end of the deal. I'll help you get your company back."
He reached for the door.
"But after that," he added without turning around, "I don't want to see you again."
And just like that, he walked out, leaving the room heavy with silence and the scent of forgotten roses.
Elena was about to leave when her phone buzzed in her hand. It was Stella.
"How did it go?" Stella asked, her voice filled with excitement.
"Just as I anticipated," Elena replied with a sigh, trying to keep her emotions in check.
"Well," Stella continued, "I've got more good news."
Elena paused at the top of the staircase, curiosity creeping into her voice. "What is it?"
"Your private investigator just sent an email. It has pictures—of Chloe and Charles. He found them. They're staying in Monaco."
A slow smirk spread across Elena's lips. "That's good," she said calmly, though her heart raced at the thought.
"I'll be back soon, Stella. I'm already on my way," she added before ending the call.
As Elena made her way downstairs, she didn't see Victor anywhere. But she didn't stop to look for him. Her mind had shifted—she had more pressing matters to deal with now.
Outside, the night was quiet, too quiet. She walked toward her car, but something felt off. A flicker of movement near the edge of Victor's villa caught her eye. A shadow. Just for a moment. But long enough.
Her gut tightened. Someone was there. Watching. And she was almost certain they'd just taken a photo of her.
Without showing a hint of panic, Elena slipped into her car and drove off.
Moments later, her suspicions were confirmed. A car was following her—keeping a distance but not enough to hide.
Elena's lips curled into a sly smile. "Amateur," she muttered.
She picked up her phone and dialed a number from memory. When the line connected, her voice turned sharp and calm.
"Prepare the trap," she said. "I'll be there in fifteen minutes."
She hung up without waiting for a reply, her eyes locked on the road ahead, already planning her next move.