Shamed my Lover 14

14 

Elena, you do have a habit of leaving without saying goodbye” 

My body stiffened instanth, and instinct told me to run. 

I barely got two steps away before a powerful grip caught my wrist. 

He casually pulled off his wide–brimmed hat and tossed it to the ground. 

Lucas. 

He stood before me, smiling–two buttons undone on his black shirt, radiating his usual lazy arrogance beneath the moonlight. 

“Why the rush?” he asked lightly, as if we’d simply bumped into each other on the street. 

I struggled to free my wrist, but his grip didn’t budge. 

“What does Mr. Zane mean by this?” I tried to stay calm, but my voice trembled despite myself 

He chuckled, leaning in close. His breath was warm against my ear. “Nothing much. Just that it’s my first time being rejected three times by a woman. It’s a little bruising* 

“In terms of looks, I’m not any worse than Caleb” he added, his voice slow and teasing. 

Then his tone shifted. He ran his fingers slowly along my wrist, his gaze dark. “Elena, did you really think your little tricks could bring me down so easily?* 

My pupils contracted. Alarm shot through me. “You… you let me go on purpose?* 

He released me, took a step back, and lifted his hands in mock innocence, posture relaxed. “Did you think you could walk out of that villa without my permission?” 

So the escape I thought I’d achieved was nothing but his game. 

“Mr. Zane, do you regret it now?” My heart was in turmoil, but my face remained composed. 

He looked at me intently, his eyes filled with emotions I couldn’t decipher–mockery, curiosity, and even… something burning I dared not name. 

“I never regret anything,” he said with a dry laugh. “But I can’t seem to control myself. So I came to see you off.” 

A subordinate appeared silently, handing over a file and a black card. 

Lucas took them and pressed them into my hand. “There’s some money–not much, but enough to last a lifetime. The file holds your new identity. You’re now a citizen of Canada, with a clean 

record.” 

My fingertips were cold as I clutched the papers. “Why… why are you doing this?” 

He didn’t answer. He just looked at me deeply. “Go wherever you want. Live the life you want 

Then, with a faint, ambiguous smile, he added, “Just think of it… as a gift for your bravery. 

When he saw the shimmer of tears in my eyes, he turned away abruptly. “Don’t cry in front of me. I might regret it after all.” 

I laughed, and I knew then–he wasn’t joking. 

Without hesitation, I accepted what he gave and boarded the flight to Canada. 

I went to the small snow–covered town nestled under the mountains, the place that had pulled 

After Being Shamed My Lover Broke Que Dussoomant 

me through countless hopeless nights. 

Within six months, I used Lucas’s money, along with my own savings, to build a modest orphanage 

I took in street children and a few elderly wanderers with nowhere else to go. 

The orphanage was small, but bright and clean. The garden bloomed, and children’s laughter filled the air. 

I thought I had finally left my nightmares behind and begun a new chapter. 

But sometimes, Lucas would reappear like a ghost. 

He never announced his arrival, nor did he offer explanations. 

Wearing custom tailored suits that looked absurdly out of place, he’d quietly sit in the corner of the yard and watch the children play. 

Sometimes, he’d join them with a drawing board, sketching strange little cartoons that made the kids laugh. 

Sometimes, he’d take off his coat, roll up his sleeves, and play muddy soccer with the boys- getting dirty, but never caring. 

He never interfered with the orphanage and never made demands of me, as if he were simply a 

passing visitor. 

Only on rare nights would he sit on the bench outside the gate, reeking of alcohol. 

The moon cast a long shadow behind him. 

That time, he was drunk. The eyes behind his silver–rimmed glasses were no longer sharp, but 

blurred and vulnerable. 

He held my hand–lightly, but firmly enough that I couldn’t pull away. 

“Elena,” he said hoarsely, “If… if we’d met differently, would you have fallen for me?” 

The mountain breeze carried the scent of alcohol and quiet loneliness. 

I gently withdrew my hand and looked toward the endless night. 

“Mr. Zane,” I said calmly, without a tremor in my voice, “Life doesn’t give us many ifs.” 

His body stiffened. Then he gave a low laugh–tinged with self–mockery and helplessness. 

I didn’t respond. I turned and walked back into the orphanage. 

Some people and some memories are meant to stay in the past. 

As for me–I’m walking toward the future. 

The peaceful days didn’t last long.