Chapter 888

The moment was interrupted by Julian Ashford's approach.

"Rosalind, what a pleasant surprise to see you here again."

Rosalind Fairchild found it oddly coincidental—they'd also crossed paths recently at The Velvet Lounge.

She offered a polite smile. "Julian, let me introduce you—this is my closest friend, Harrison Whitmore."

Julian inclined his head courteously. "A pleasure, Ms. Whitmore."

Harrison returned the greeting with a nod. "Hello."

Rosalind turned back to Julian. "Are you dining here as well?"

He confirmed with a slight tilt of his chin. "Indeed."

Just then, Harrison discreetly tugged Rosalind's sleeve. "Lucian's here."

Lucian Graves had arrived.

At the mention of his name, Rosalind's pulse quickened. A full month had passed since she last laid eyes on him.

She turned and saw him standing at the entrance—tall, commanding, impossible to miss.

Tonight, he was dressed in an impeccably tailored black suit that accentuated his broad shoulders, narrow waist, and long legs. His striking presence drew every eye in the room. And for once, he wasn’t wearing a mask. His sculpted features were fully visible, more breathtaking than ever.

Rosalind couldn’t look away. His face had healed completely. If anything, he looked even more devastatingly handsome—the kind of magnetism that came from confidence, success, and maturity. His sharp jawline and piercing gaze could make anyone’s breath hitch.

As Lucian stepped inside, the entire restaurant seemed to pause.

A group of women nearby gasped. "Oh my god, who is that?"

"That’s Lucian Graves—the tech mogul. He’s not just rich, he’s gorgeous!"

"I’d marry him in a heartbeat!"

Rosalind smiled faintly. She was genuinely happy for him. After everything, he had finally emerged stronger. Seeing him like this made all the pain feel worth it.

Julian observed him as well. "No wonder Mr. Graves always wore a mask. That face is lethal."

As a scholar, Julian held no grudges, and his admiration was sincere.

Harrison shot Rosalind a knowing glance. "Well? Thoughts?"

Rosalind exhaled softly. "He looks incredible. Thank you."

Harrison smirked. "Sweetheart, he was always that stunning. His face hasn’t changed."

True. Lucian—or Everett, as she once knew him—had always carried that effortless allure.

Soon, a small entourage formed around Lucian. Rosalind recognized two of them—Genevieve and Reginald—along with a few executives from Quantum Innovations. Clearly, this was a business dinner.

And Genevieve was standing right beside Lucian.

As they moved further into the restaurant, their paths inevitably crossed. The space wasn’t large, and the encounter was unavoidable.

The air thickened with tension.

Lucian didn’t spare Rosalind a glance. Instead, his gaze settled on Harrison, and he gave a polite nod. "Dr. Whitmore, good evening."

He owed her for the surgery that had restored his face.

Harrison smiled. "Good evening, Mr. Graves."

Then, she linked her arm with Rosalind’s. "What are the odds? Rosalind and I just happened to choose this place tonight."

Rosalind’s heart hammered as she met Lucian’s eyes.

He looked at her—only for a second—but his expression was ice. Detached. As if she were nothing more than a stranger. Not a single word. Just that cold, dismissive glance before he turned away.

Genevieve, standing proudly at Lucian’s side, beamed at Rosalind. "Ms. Fairchild! Fancy seeing you here."

Reginald chuckled. "Small world, isn’t it? You do turn up everywhere lately."