Lena was hospitalized after reportedly crashing her car while intoxicated. When she woke, she insisted that Velkan had beaten her — that the whole thing was revenge because she'd landed the lead contract for an important brand.
But given the state she'd been found in, people assumed it was the ramblings of a woman desperate to salvage her reputation. Her credibility only sank further when photos surfaced online — Lena in a hotel room with Wilson and several other businessmen.
After that, reporters swarmed the hospital, hunting for an exclusive. Lena remained under observation while an investigation into the leaked material got underway. That morning, Velkan stopped by to visit her, carrying an enormous bouquet of flowers.
"Y-you... you did all of this. I'm going to sue you for assault and defamation," she warned.
"Lena, Lena. From the day you walked into this agency, you haven't stopped spitting venom at me. I warned you plenty of times to knock it off, but you didn't listen." He smiled. "Now — these are the consequences, sweetheart."
"You filthy omega... I'll make you pay. You have no idea how far my connections reach," she threatened again.
Velkan didn't even flinch.
"Terrifying. I'll be waiting for your connections, then."
He left the room, and the reporters immediately mobbed him, asking why he'd come to visit the woman who'd been publicly blaming him for her accident.
"I feel terrible about her unfortunate accident and everything she's going through. I have no idea why she's accused me so unfairly, but it saddens me to see such a talented model end up like this. I hope she recovers soon." His voice cracked with rehearsed sorrow.
"Velkan, that's very gracious of you, but that doesn't erase what everyone's been saying. Can you explain the rumors?" a reporter pressed.
"Rumors? Other than what Lena said about me, I have no idea what you're referring to," he replied, bewildered.
"You've been seen getting into the agency president's car. They say you're having an inappropriate relationship with him."
"Me?" Velkan turned to the reporter. "So if you get into your boss's car, does that make you his lover?"
"N-no, of course not. Sometimes it might just be... going somewhere to discuss work. Things like that," the reporter backpedaled.
"Exactly." Velkan crossed his arms. "That day, there was a meeting with a client from an international brand. The contact wanted to meet me because I'm the lead model, so the president sent his assistant to pick me up. Is that a crime? You people are trying to destroy my career over baseless assumptions and a photo taken out of context. The media never considers the damage it causes. Careers have been ruined by false information, snap judgments — some people have even taken their own lives over it. Doesn't that weigh on your conscience? It's tragic how far journalism has fallen."
Velkan's expression crumpled with sorrow. He wiped a tear that slid down his cheek. The reporters shifted uncomfortably, stung by what the albino had said, and the questions stopped.
"My son really knows how to put on a show. Ever thought about switching careers?" Seth asked, setting plates on the table for dinner.
"They're idiots. It was that or blow their heads off right there," Velkan muttered, annoyed.
"You need to rein in that temper. I know perfectly well you're behind what happened to that model," Seth chided.
"She brought it on herself. I'm positive the rumor was her doing too." Velkan clicked his tongue.
Little Luan, seated beside Velkan and hunched over a drawing, tried to copy the sound. It didn't come out right.
"Luan, no — don't copy your mommy," Seth scolded.
"But Grandpa Lyam does it too, and Mommy copies him," the boy protested.
"Well, you can't. You're a child," Seth insisted.
"Tssshhh." The boy attempted the click again in defiance.
"Oh no, another grump in this house," Seth groaned.
"I'm not a grump, Grandpa," Luan objected.
The next day at the agency, there was a small commotion — whispers and buzzing. Velkan's assistant hurried over to tell him that Wilson had been summoned to the VP's office.
"But we'll get to that later. There's a client who wants to see you," the young woman informed him.
"All right. Take me."
She led him to one of the conference rooms. When Velkan stepped through the door, he froze. Sitting in that room was the same man from the mansion.
"Velkan, this gentleman is the president of the brand Okami — Sa—"
"Sasaki Hiro," Velkan cut in.
Natalie blinked, surprised that Velkan already knew him.
"Hey, Vel. It's been a while." Hiro smiled.
"Natalie — tell this client I'm not interested. Besides, his lead model is Lena."
"That's not very professional, Vel. This is business — you shouldn't let personal feelings get in the way," Hiro remarked.
"Um... I don't know what's going on between you two, but Mr. Sasaki has a point, Velkan," Natalie added.
"Natalie, don't question my decisions." Velkan turned to Hiro. "Mr. Sasaki, with so many famous models to choose from, why me? I'd say you're not being particularly professional either."
Hiro let out a breath at Velkan's resistance but kept his composure.
"This has nothing to do with anything personal. My team chose you — the people running this campaign voted to hire you. As a professional, I think the least you can do is hear the offer. Don't throw away your team's hard work over something personal," Hiro countered.
"Velkan... think about it. Mr. Sasaki's right. A whole team put this together, and the offer is solid," Natalie urged.
Velkan was quiet for a moment. Then he nodded and asked Natalie to hand over the documents as he took a seat. Hiro allowed himself a faint smile, his eyes never leaving Velkan.
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