Chapter 539

Chapter 539:

“Hi there.” Lea appeared in front of me, a glass of wine in one hand, the other extended. “I’m Lea Lopez p>

I shook her hand briefly. “Mirabelle Vance p>

She smiled. “I know. We should have met a long time ago, in Paris p>

“Yeah,” I said dryly.

I knew exactly what she meant. Her arrival in Ashton’s life had marked the beginning of the end of ours.

I glanced past her. Ashton had disappeared.

“Didn’t expect to run into you here,” she said.

“Same here.” I wanted to slip away, but she blocked the exit.

Then, suddenly, she said, “I envy you p>

“Huh p>

Her voice was gentle, oddly at odds with her striking looks. “I was an orphan. People said my birth father was a murderer. I was bullied for it. Later, I was adopted, but it wasn’t the life-changing gift I’d imagined. It was…” Her voice faded.

I frowned, baffled by why she was telling me this.

“People raised in loving families can’t understand those like me. Luckily, I met others with similar backgrounds. Ashton, Kylian, Olivier. At first, we looked out for each other. Then we started running… operations. Not exactly on the right side of the law, but it worked p>

“Money brought in, and money meant independence. Freedom from the families we despised. That was all we wanted p>

I shifted on my feet. What was this? A sympathy bid? A boast that she had known him longer than I had? I already knew that.

Lea’s tone softened. “I get why he was drawn to you. You had difficult parents too, but you turned out differently from us. You’re not bitter or vindictive. You’re… normal. Opposites attract, I suppose p>

My brow furrowed.

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Her smile brightened again. “But it never lasts. Sooner or later, you realize you and Ash don’t share the same outlook. You’re too different. The relationship was doomed from the start p>

Ah. There it was. She was here to gloat.

“Ashton and I are over,” I said evenly. “The relationship has already failed. Are you telling me this just to congratulate yourself on predicting it p>

Before she could reply, a man’s voice cut in. “May I have this dance?” He was looking at her.

She smiled, took his hand. “Of course.” She threw me a gracious smile before gliding onto the dance floor with him.

“May I have the pleasure of this dance, my lady?” A French-looking man in a white tuxedo bowed before me, his hand extended.

He was handsome in a dandy way, with a smile that called to mind a young Leonardo DiCaprio in Titanic.

“I’m not good at dancing p>

“I could teach you,” he said, persistent but not pushy.

I nodded.

But before I could take his arm, an iron grip closed around my wrist. “She’s taken p>