Dr. Lucas Quirk wasn’t someone who frequented entertainment venues. In fact, he actively avoided them. Each time Yvonne tried to drag him to a place like this, he would brush her off without hesitation.
Tonight was an exception. And that exception had a name—Weston.
Lucas had known Weston for many years. In all that time, he had rarely seen him like this—silent, withdrawn, staring off into space with a pensive air. He sat motionless, his aura colder than usual, an unreadable storm behind his eyes.
“You fought with Guinevere, didn’t you?” Lucas asked, the only plausible explanation he could come up with.
The question earned him a sharp glance and a barely perceptible furrow of Weston’s brow, as if the mere mention of Guinevere irritated him.
Lucas usually stayed out of other people’s business. But this was Weston. And he couldn’t ignore what he had seen recently.
He shifted his tone, his voice more casual now. “What’s your relationship with Ella?”
Weston didn’t visibly react to the name. His brows knit together just slightly—just enough for Lucas to catch the flicker of something beneath the surface. That was all he needed to confirm his hunch.
“That night, when Yvonne and I saw you with Stella… It wasn’t a coincidence, was it?”
Though he phrased it as a question, he already knew the answer.
Weston remained silent.
Lucas gave a short chuckle, his tone laced with both humor and caution. “If Guinevere finds out, will you two still be getting married?”
It was a loaded question. Most of society already believed that Weston and Guinevere were husband and wife. Only a select few knew the truth: there had never been a wedding.
But both the Ford and Cohen families were elite in every sense. If the two ever did tie the knot, the entire nation would witness the spectacle.
Still, despite the absence of a formal union, the public already treated them like a married couple. Their families were closely tied, their future seemingly intertwined.
Weston lifted his champagne flute, his expression unreadable. The light from the chandelier shimmered on the pale gold liquid as he took a slow sip. His gaze drifted to the unopened bottle on the table.
He set down the glass with a soft clink. “You should worry about yourself. Wouldn’t your wife mind you being here?”
Lucas raised an eyebrow. “If I weren’t here helping you sort things out, I’d be home already—wrapped around her, fast asleep.”
Weston let out a low laugh, but his eyes flicked to his watch again.
Still no message from Stella.
Lucas noticed the subtle, repeated glances. “Are you waiting for someone?”
It was a rhetorical question. Aside from Guinevere, who else would Weston be waiting for? Yet Lucas already knew it couldn’t be her.
His smile faded into something more serious. “You should know where to draw the line. I trust you won’t cross it.”
Weston leaned back slightly, gaze steady. “Cross what line?”
“I’m talking about Ella.”
There was a pause. Then a flicker of something—mockery, perhaps—glinted in Weston’s eyes.
“When did you start caring so much about Guinevere?”
Lucas didn’t take offense. Instead, he casually poured himself another glass of champagne. “It’s not Guinevere I’m worried about,” he said coolly. “It’s Yvonne.”
He tapped his glass against the table with a light, deliberate sound. “What else do you think? You think I’m like Henry?”
Everyone in their circle knew that Henry had once been Weston’s rival in love.
Guinevere had long held the title of goddess within the entertainment industry. Men fell for her in droves. But she only had eyes for one—Weston.
Weston and Henry had grown up together, each powerful in their own right. Few dared to challenge either of them.
It was common knowledge that Weston and Guinevere were a couple. Henry had been the sole exception—the only one bold enough to compete with Weston for her affection. For a time, he came close. Rumors even swirled that Guinevere might one day choose him.
But all of that changed when whispers of Henry and his female bodyguard began to surface.
It was clear to everyone now—Guinevere had never let Weston go. She was infatuated, heart and soul. Henry wasn’t lacking in charm, wealth, or status. Yet even after all these years, she still chose Weston.
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