Page 32 of Claiming My Nemesis

Jude grinned up at me, his cheeks flushed with excitement. “Mom said I could help with the games! Can I, Miss Natalie? Pleeease?”

I ruffled his hair, unable to resist his infectious energy. “Of course, you can! Just make sure you don’t wear yourself out before the fun really begins.”

“Thanks!” he shouted, already darting off toward the ring toss game, where a group of kids had started gathering.

As I watched him go, a small smile tugged at my lips. Moments like this—seeing the joy and innocence in the kids I taught every day—were what made everything worth it. But as much as I tried to focus on the here and now, the unease in my chest wouldn’t completely fade.

It had been a week since I’d discovered the truth about Ethan. A week of me ignoring his calls and texts. A week of trying—and failing—to push thoughts of him out of my mind. I’d thrown myself into prepping for this fundraiser, hoping it would be enough to distract me, but Ethan lingered like a shadow I couldn’t shake.

“Nat, can you grab the extra tags for the auction items?” Jess called out, her voice cutting through my thoughts.

“On it!” I replied with a determined nod, my feet moving quickly as I made my way back to the van. The familiar rhythm of event prep was a welcome distraction, the tangible tasks giving me something to focus on amidst the tumultuous thoughts clouding my mind. As I rummaged through the supplies, my fingers brushed over each item, searching for what was needed.

Yet, despite the busyness around me, I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d ever be able to move past Ethan and our relationship that had ended so abruptly. I’d eventually read his texts and listened to his voice messages, each bringing back a rush of emotions and memories. But now, standing here todaywith the school year coming to an end, I didn’t know what to say or if I truly wanted to say anything at all. My heart felt heavy with indecision and conflicting feelings, unsure of how to move forward from this point on.

When I returned with the tags, Jess was busy arranging the items on the check-in table, her movements quick and efficient. “Thanks,” she said, glancing up at me with a smile. But her smile faded slightly when she noticed the tightness in my expression. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I said, forcing a grin. “Just hoping everyone has a good time.”

Jess placed a hand on my arm, her gaze softening. “So far, so good.”

As more parents and volunteers arrived, the park began to fill with the buzz of excitement. I moved from tent to tent, checking on the games, the food stalls, and finally, the silent auction.

The main attraction of the auction was a beautiful oil painting of Cedar Cove, created by a renowned artist who often spent summers in our town. Its vibrant colors perfectly captured the essence and appeal of our quaint little community. I was optimistic that it would garner a substantial bid, and seeing it prominently displayed filled me with a sense of satisfaction.

But as I stood there, making sure everything was in place, I felt a shift in the atmosphere. The lively chatter quieted, replaced by hushed whispers and curious glances. I turned to see what had caused the change, and my heart plummeted to the pit of my stomach.

Ethan.

He walked through the park with an air of quiet confidence, dressed in tailored slacks and a crisp button-down shirt that contrasted sharply with the casual attire of everyone else. His presence alone was enough to draw attention, and theLamborghini parked just beyond the tents only added to the curiosity swirling around him.

My breath caught in my throat as I watched Ethan move closer to the silent auction. His form-fitting clothes accentuated every ripple and bulge of his physique, and I couldn’t help but notice the sharp lines of his jaw now that the stubble was gone.

His haircut was stylish, and the hair gel gave him a trendy, polished look that made him stand out even more among the crowd. Ethan didn’t notice me at first. His attention was focused on the items displayed under the tent. But when he finally stopped in front of the featured painting, my heart pounded so loudly that I was sure everyone around me could hear it.

Without hesitation, Ethan stepped up to the table and scribbled his bid on the sheet. As he placed it back down, the murmurs around the tent grew louder. People craned their necks, trying to see who had made such a bold move.

I didn’t have to look to know that it was an amount far beyond what anyone else had offered.

Frozen in place, I struggled to process what I was seeing. The mixture of anger, hurt, confusion, and desire that had been building inside me all week surged to the surface. What was he doing here? After everything that had happened, after everything I’d learned, how could he show up like this, as if nothing had changed?

But as much as I wanted to march over to him and demand answers, I couldn’t move. A part of me—a part I wasn’t ready to confront—was glad he was here. I was desperate to see him again, hear his voice, feel that connection I’d been trying so hard to forget.

As I stood there, watching Ethan glance around at the other items in the auction, my heart ached with a confusing mix of emotions. Nothing about this was going to be easy. And nothing about this was going to be okay with my heart.

Not even close.

The strain in the tent was palpable as whispers rippled through the crowd. I could feel everyone’s gaze, their curiosity buzzing in the air. But all I could focus on was Ethan, standing by the silent auction table with that familiar, confident demeanor as if he hadn’t just turned my world upside down.

Jess leaned close and whispered, “Nat, what’s going on? Do you know him?”

I swallowed hard, my mind racing. “Yeah,” I admitted, my voice strained. “That’s Ethan.”

Her eyes widened in recognition. “The Ethan?” she asked, glancing back at him with a mixture of surprise and curiosity. “Damn, I would have never recognized him.”

“Yep, Mr. Billionaire,” I muttered, my heart pounding in my chest. I wasn’t sure if I was more angry or relieved to see him, but there was no denying the jolt of electricity that shot through me when our eyes finally met.

Ethan’s gaze was steady, searching, as if he was trying to gauge my reaction. I could see the strain in his posture, the slight tightening of his jaw. He was nervous, which was something I’d rarely seen in him. It made him seem more human, more vulnerable—and damn it, that only made it harder for me to stay mad at him.

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