Strangers To Lovers

Chapter Thirty-Three

As we made our way to the restaurant, I found myself diving deeper into the intimidating world of civil judicial proceedings. Christian hadn't filed a formal complaint yet, but his threats loomed over me like a dark, oppressive cloud. The nausea I felt wasn't just from the hangover. The thought of him pressing charges made my stomach churn. Losing my savings or my freedom seemed like an unbearable possibility. Dylan, sensing my unease, gave my shoulder a comforting squeeze as he drove, his calm demeanor providing a thin veil of reassurance.

"You're going to be fine," Dylan said with a steady voice. "I'll handle this. Believe me, I can be ruthless when it comes to court."

His words made me smile, even in the midst of my anxiety. I was lucky to have him.

As we approached the restaurant, Calvin was already watching us through the large glass windows, his sneer deepening as we headed toward the backroom where the security footage was kept. The tension in the air was thick, and Calvin's arrogance was palpable as we walked past him.

"You're walking into trouble," Calvin warned coldly as we passed. "You could lose your job over this."

Dylan didn't break his stride. His expression hardened, and without a single glance at Calvin, he replied, "And you're about to lose your reputation. When people find out you allowed customers to harass your staff, there'll be consequences."

Calvin's face turned pale, his lips twitching as if he wanted to respond, but he stayed silent. The tension between us intensified as Dylan handed him a business card, his gaze never wavering.

"Dylan Smith," Calvin read aloud, his voice shaky. "The Dylan Smith?"

"Yes," Dylan said, his tone firm. "Now, let's see the security footage from the night in question."

Calvin's hesitation was noticeable. His eyes darted nervously around the room, avoiding direct contact with Dylan's icy gaze. "There might have been some technical difficulties with the cameras that night," Calvin muttered, his voice almost a whisper.

Dylan leaned in closer, his body radiating an intimidating energy. "Technical difficulties? Or did someone tamper with the footage?"

"I... I don't know what you're talking about," Calvin stammered, clearly rattled. His attempt at nonchalance was failing.

I couldn't hold back any longer. "Who told you to mess with the footage?" I demanded, stepping closer to him. My anger boiled just below the surface, threatening to spill over. The sheer audacity of his behavior made my blood pressure skyrocket.

Calvin froze, his face paling even more. He was trapped, and he knew it.

"Answer the question," Dylan's voice dropped an octave, deadly serious. "Because right now, you're standing in the middle of a crime scene if that footage is gone."

Calvin fumbled with the keys on the computer, his hands trembling. "I-I didn't delete anything. I swear!"

Dylan stepped closer, the air between them crackling with tension. "Then you won't mind showing us the footage."

With shaky hands, Calvin pulled up the video files on the screen. It took a few agonizing moments before the footage played, showing the bar area and tables where Christian had sat. The picture was grainy, but the important details were visible.

"There," Dylan said, pointing to the screen. "That's what we need."

Calvin quickly copied the footage onto a USB drive and handed it to Dylan. "That's everything," he said, sweat beading on his forehead. "I swear, I didn't do anything else."

Dylan snatched the drive from Calvin's hand, his face expressionless. "Good. Because if I find out you've hidden anything, you'll regret it."

As we turned to leave, I couldn't resist shooting Calvin one last glare. He looked like a defeated man, slumped and pale behind his counter. There was nothing more satisfying than seeing him squirm after what he'd let happen.

Back in Dylan's car, I felt a mix of relief and anxiety. We had the footage, but something still didn't sit right with me. As Dylan started the engine, I glanced at him, noting the deep furrow in his brow.

"Do you really think Christian orchestrated this?" I asked, my voice tinged with doubt.

Dylan shook his head slowly, his gaze focused on the road. "No. Christian's a sleazebag, but he's too scared of Luke to pull something like this. There's someone else pulling the strings."

My stomach twisted at the implication. "You think it's Luke's mother, don't you?"

Dylan was silent for a moment before nodding. "I wouldn't put it past her. She's powerful, and she's ruthless when it comes to Luke. She sees you as a threat to his future, and she's not afraid to get her hands dirty."

A cold shiver ran down my spine. Mrs. Connor had always been a looming presence, but I'd never thought she'd go this far.

I stared out the window, trying to make sense of it all. "But why now? Why go to these lengths to hurt me?"

Dylan glanced at me, his expression softening slightly. "Because you're not just some fling. She knows Luke cares about you, and that terrifies her."

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. I hadn't realized how much my relationship with Luke threatened his mother's control over him. And now, she was trying to destroy me to keep her hold on him.

As we pulled up in front of Luke's house, I felt a wave of nausea. I had to talk to him. I had to make him understand what was happening. But part of me feared he was already too far under his mother's influence to see the truth.

Inside Luke's house, everything felt different. The usual warmth and comfort of being in his space were gone, replaced by an eerie silence. I called out his name, but there was no answer. My heart sank. He wasn't here.

I paced the living room, my mind racing. What if his mother had already gotten to him? What if he believed her lies about me? I grabbed my phone and called him, my hands shaking as I waited for him to pick up. But it went straight to voicemail.

"Luke, please call me back," I said, my voice cracking. "We need to talk. Please."

I ended the call and threw my phone onto the couch, frustration bubbling inside me. How had everything gone so wrong so quickly? Just a few days ago, everything seemed perfect. Now, it felt like my world was crumbling, and I couldn't stop it.

I sank onto the couch, my head in my hands. Mrs. Connor was manipulating everything, and I had no idea how to fight her. She was powerful, connected, and clearly willing to go to any lengths to get rid of me.

But I wasn't going down without a fight.

When the door finally creaked open, it was late. Luke stepped in, looking tired and disheveled, his shirt wrinkled, and his eyes bleary. My heart skipped a beat seeing him, but the weight of everything hung between us like an impenetrable wall.

"Luke," I said softly, standing up.

He looked at me for a moment, something unreadable in his gaze, before letting out a long sigh. "Ella, we need to talk."

The way he said it made my chest tighten. "What's going on?" I asked, stepping closer.

He ran a hand through his hair, avoiding eye contact. "It's complicated... my mom, she..."

"Your mother doesn't control your life, Luke," I interrupted, my voice firmer than I felt. "She's trying to ruin us."

Luke's eyes finally met mine, and there was pain in them. "She thinks she's protecting me."

"By tearing us apart?" I asked, incredulous. "You don't believe her, do you?"

For a long moment, there was only silence. My heart raced, waiting for his answer. Then, in a whisper, he said, "I don't know what to believe anymore."