Vella stared at the man—a figure in a grey suit, hair slightly disheveled, his gaze sharp yet weary. "Victor…" she whispered softly.

But Victor had already stepped forward before she could even think.

The man's gaze met Victor's directly. Both their faces were equally rigid,like two fragments of the past forced to meet in a different world.

"It's been a long time," the man finally said. His voice was flat but bitter. "You look more alive than the last time I saw you in New York."

Victor didn't answer. His hands were clenched at his sides.

Vella tried to read the situation, but the aura around them was tense, like the calm before a storm. "Do you know him?"Vella asked carefully.

Victor stared straight at the man. "Darren Cole," he answered quietly. "A famous fashion photographer… once." Darren smirked."You still remember."

Vella flinched slightly. She had heard that name—a photographer whose career suddenly collapsed due to a scandal involving manipulation and harassment of young models. But that case had long disappeared from the media, swallowed by new gossip.

"So this is her?" Darren looked at Vella with an unreadable gaze. "The little model you hid from me back then?"

Victor stepped forward, his tone turning cold. "Watch your words."

Darren raised his hands as if he didn't care. "I'm not here to cause trouble. Just want to… settle something."

"There's nothing to settle," Victor cut in quickly.

But Darren laughed softly. "Oh, there certainly is. I lost everything because of that gossip. Everyone thought I was a monster. But who leaked that video back then, huh? Who made everyone believe I touched my models?"

The atmosphere grew tense. The few remaining guests looked at them curiously.

Vella stepped closer. "Wait… you're saying Victor leaked it?"

Darren looked at her, his eyes blazing with anger and pain. "Who else do you think had access to my studio back then? Who else could bring me down so cleanly? All digital traces erased, all my contracts gone overnight."

Victor let out a long sigh, his voice almost trembling. "I saved them, Darren. You were guilty. I saw those photos myself."

"Lies!" Darren snapped. "It was a setup. I was framed—you know I was set up by the very same agency you protect!"

His words echoed in the air, piercing the space between them.

Vella looked at the two men.

Victor… and Darren.

Both seemed to carry unhealed wounds.

"I never set you up," Victor said finally, cold but firm. "I just sent the evidence to the authorities. You blame me because you need someone to blame."

Darren looked down. A bitter laugh escaped him. "You've really changed, Victor. You were just as dirty as me back in the day. But now you pretend to be an angel?"

Victor didn't answer.

But something in his eyes—guilt, or a weariness held for too long—made Vella realize there might be another side she had never seen.

Darren took a deep breath, then looked at Vella. "You look like her… that girl from back then. Equally clueless. You should be careful."

Vella frowned. "Careful of what?"

But Darren just gave a faint smile, then turned and left. "This world isn't what you think,miss. Sometimes good people are just good actors."

After Darren left, Vella looked at Victor, her heart in turmoil.

"Victor… what did he mean?"

Victor let out a long sigh. "Darren lost control. He was a very talented photographer once, but he became obsessed with his models. I tried to protect one of them… and he accused me of setting him up. His life has been ruined ever since."

Vella looked at him in silence.

Victor's eyes looked honest. But there was something else there—a shadow from a past that refused to leave. "Did…you really do nothing wrong?" she asked carefully.

Victor smiled faintly. "You doubt me?"

Vella bit her lip. "I just want to know the truth."

"Trust me," he said softly. "If I were guilty, I wouldn't be able to look at you like this."

His words were so quiet, yet piercing. Their gazes locked, and for a moment the world around them vanished—there were only the two of them, standing under the trembling garden lights.

"Victor? Vella?" Her mother's voice came from behind.

As if splashed with cold water, they both turned simultaneously. In an instant, all the tension on Vella's face evaporated, replaced by a sweet, friendly smile.

"Mama was looking for you two, turns out you're here. Come on inside, let's take a family photo with the others before we leave," the woman said.

They walked back into the event hall.

The crystal chandeliers reflected golden glimmers and elegant colors, marking the grand family and business event. Amid the crowd, Vella tried to maintain her fake smile, feeling every nerve ending tremble from Victor's presence right beside her.

As the family lined up neatly facing the camera, with perfect poses and measured smiles, Vella could feel the heat from Victor's body. They stood side by side, like two strangers bound forcibly by their parents' new union.

"Everyone, smile!" the photographer called out.

Click.

And that was the moment.

Without warning, Victor's arm encircled Vella's waist firmly, possessively, as if marking his territory. The touch felt like it was burning through the fabric of her dress. Startled, Vella looked up, her eyes wide as she stared at Victor's sharp profile, which remained calm as he looked straight at the camera as if nothing had happened. Her stunned, bewildered expression and her gaze fixed solely on Victor, contrasted with his cool demeanor, were forever captured in a single frame.

---

The next morning.

Vella woke up in her own room, but her head was still filled with the shadows of last night's encounter. She opened her phone, stared at the blank screen, trying to muster the courage to check those old messages. That mysterious number…was still there. But now there was a new message:

"He is not who you think he is."

Vella's heart raced. She immediately pressed the call button for that number.

The signal rang for a long time… then connected. But all she heard was silence, a faint breath on the other end. "Hello?Who is this?" Vella asked quickly.

No answer.

"Hello?!"

The call disconnected.

The next second, a soft knock was heard on her door. "Can I come in?" Victor's voice sounded.

Vella hurriedly hid her phone. "Come in."

Victor entered carrying two cups of coffee. "You look pale."

"I didn't sleep well."

He handed her a coffee, then sat on the edge of the bed. "About last night… that man is gone. I made sure he won't bother you again."

"He wasn't the one sending those messages, was he?" Vella blurted out.

Victor looked at her. "What messages?"

"The ones warning me about him. I thought it was Darren, but he didn't even know."

Victor's brow furrowed. "You got a message like that again?"

Vella nodded slowly. "Just now."

Victor's expression changed. He took Vella's phone from her hand, staring at the screen.

The sender's number was unknown—no name, no profile picture, no trace.

"This number… it's untraceable," he said quietly, more to himself.

Vella looked at him anxiously. "Who do you think it is?"

Victor stared into the distance, his eyes dark as if hiding a storm. "I don't know," he finally said. "But whoever it is, they know something about me. Something I thought was buried long ago."

Vella bit her lip, trying to calm herself. "Does it… have something to do with that girl you protected before?"

Victor didn't answer. He stood up, turning his back to Vella, his voice low and heavy. "There are things from my past that even I try to forget, Vella. But it seems… the past doesn't want me to forget."