Chapter 99 Hearts on the Line
As the maids carried the flowers in, Lena froze. For a moment, she thought her eyes were deceiving her. She pushed herself up from the bed quickly, her steps unsteady as she crossed the room to take in the sight.
They were breathtaking.
One of the maids who had knocked earlier stepped forward and handed her a card from the florist. Tucked beside it was a small, handwritten note. Lena's heart stumbled as she read the words:
Welcome home, Lena.
She blinked, reading the name on the card again and again, To Lena Sinclair. The letters blurred as though her mind was trying to catch up with what her eyes were seeing.
She had watched women in films receive flowers, their eyes lighting up, their lips curving in delighted smiles. But nothing had prepared her for this. Not the sheer scale of it, the abundance, the variety, the colors blooming all at once like a garden brought indoors.
It wasn't just the flowers themselves that left her shaken. It was the thought that someone had done this for her. For Lena.
She moved slowly, almost reverently, touching the petals one by one. She didn't even know which flower was which, she'd never cared before, never had reason to, but now, she found herself lingering over each one as if they held a secret she was supposed to uncover.
For the first time in a long time, she didn't know what to do with her feelings.
One by one, the maids filed out of the room until Lena was left alone with the sea of blossoms. She stood there, drinking them in as though she were seeing flowers for the very first time.
Ethan must really be trying to sweep me off my feet, she thought, her lips curving into the faintest smile.
But the smile faltered when she turned toward the door. Her breath caught, her heart skipping in a way that startled her.
Ethan was there.
He leaned against the doorway, his gaze fixed on her, and for a moment she almost didn't recognize the expression on his face. His eyes, usually cool and guarded, softened, almost smiling on their own. He looked... pleased. Pleased to see her, to see this.
Lena froze, unable to move, caught between the flowers at her back and the man in front of her.
Ethan didn't look away. His gaze held hers, steady and unreadable, until he finally pushed himself upright from the doorframe.
"You seem to like them," he said at last, his voice low, carrying that calm certainty that always made her feel slightly off balance.
Lena glanced back at the blossoms, her lips twitching as though she wasn't sure if she should smile.
"I didn't know which one you liked," he continued. "So I just asked the florist to send one of each."
A soft chuckle escaped her. "You really do know how to do things extravagantly."
Something flickered across his face, an almost-smile, restrained but present. "My father used to fill the house with flowers whenever my mother traveled. The day she came back, the whole place would look like a garden." His eyes moved over the arrangements again before settling back on her. "He wouldn't be very proud of me, sending you only this few."
She turned to him, her voice soft, almost thoughtful. "Your dad must have really loved your mum," she said. Then, as if something braver carried her forward, she stepped closer. "Maybe he filled the house with flowers because that's how she filled his heart, with love."
The words lingered in the space between them, delicate yet heavy. Ethan stilled. He hadn't expected her to step toward him, hadn't expected the warmth of her tone or the way it seemed to reach past his walls. For a moment, all he could do was look at her, the heat in his chest spreading like a quiet ache.
She gave him a small, light smile. "Thank you for the flowers. I loved them. It was such an amazing way to welcome me home."
Silence stretched.
Ethan didn't speak. His gaze lingered, tracing her in a way he couldn't stop even if he wanted to. The gentle curve of her brows, the unruly fall of her thick hair, framing her face in a softness that made her look even more delicate. His eyes drifted lower, to her lips, those lips he had kissed before, the memory still sharp in his mind. How soft they had been, how easily she had yielded in his arms, as if the world had fallen away in that moment.
Something tightened in his chest. Lena was beautiful, achingly so. And it wasn't just her face, or her slender frame, or the quiet grace in the way she stood before him. It was the fact that she was here at all. His wife.
By sheer chance, he had fallen into such improbable luck. Somehow, he had accidentally married this gorgeous woman, this woman who now stood in front of him, soft and radiant in the glow of the flowers.
He wondered how fate had handed him this, and whether he truly deserved it.
Lena was nothing like the women he had known.
All his life, they had come to him eager to please, bending themselves into what they thought he wanted. And for a long time, he believed that was what he wanted too, obedience, compliance, someone who would never challenge him.
Yet here she was.
Outspoken. Fiery when she chose to be. She didn't cower before him, nor did she flatter him with empty words. She could be stubborn, sharp-tongued even, and yet, beneath that tough exterior, there was a softness he had only begun to glimpse.
It unsettled him. Fascinated him.
He couldn't quite figure her out, no matter how hard he tried. She was unique in her own way, disarming in a way he hadn't expected, and it made his heart beat differently... harder... whenever she was near.
Ethan always felt different things when Lena was near. Emotions he wasn't accustomed to, emotions that both unsettled and anchored him at the same time. There was this instinct in him, strong and undeniable, to protect her. To shield her from anything that might bruise that quiet strength she carried beneath her fiery exterior. And then, just as powerfully, there was the constant urge to impress her.
He knew she wasn't used to this world, the world of endless luxury, of gestures so extravagant they lost meaning to most people. But with her, it was different. With her, everything felt new again, as though he were seeing his own life through her eyes. And because of that, he wanted to make it even more breathtaking, to make her feel as though she belonged here.
"You're welcome," he said, his tone low, almost hesitant.
She smiled faintly before turning back to the sea of blossoms. Her fingers brushed across delicate petals, her head dipping forward as she breathed them in. The sight held him completely. There was a softness in the way she moved, a quiet wonder in her touch.
Something twisted in his chest. He had fallen for her. The realization struck hard, and with it came unease. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. He pressed a hand to his forehead, a silent attempt to steady himself, but the truth refused to loosen its grip, his heart had already chosen her.