In truth, he wasn't an expert. He'd simply stayed up late the night before, cramming. Darcy couldn't help but laugh. "I would never underestimate you. Your uncle mentioned you were quite the star at Quest University. Swarms of admirers, half your elective classes filled with girls crushing on you." Jethro shook his head with a smile. "Uncle exaggerates." "So, Mr. Blackwood." Darcy's eyes sparkled as she launched her ambush. "How many relationships have you had?" Jethro paused, then squeezed her hand. "Ah, that's why you were buttering me up. A trap." His smile softened. "One. A serious one." "Just one? Then we're even. I had one, too," Darcy said. "Does it bother you?" "Why would it? Everyone has a past. I have my own painful seven-year chapter.""Aren't you curious why it ended?" "Not really. It's in the past. What matters is now, and the future." Hearing her say that filled Jethro with a tender warmth. They had both been wounded in love, but they'd healed. The people they'd become were better—rational, mature, honest, respectful. He gently ruffled her hair. "Let's enjoy the exhibit today. I'll tell you about it another time." The things that had once trapped him, the words he couldn't voice, had long since faded away. By the time they finished, it wasn't late. They planned on dinner, but Jethro's phone rang. Frowning, he hung up and gave Darcy an apologetic look. "Something's come up at home. My grandpa needs me back." Darcy wasn't upset. She smiled, seeing him to his car. "It's fine. Drive safely." As he held the car door, he suddenly let go, turned, and—to Darcy's astonishment—cupped the back of her neck. Then, his cool lips met the softness of hers. Darcy's eyes flew open, her cheeks flushing. She pushed at his shoulder. "There are people..." Jethro caught her hand, bringing it to his lips with a meaningful look. "I've wanted to do that since we were inside. I was afraid you'd be shy." The blush spread from Darcy's face down her neck. She slowly withdrew her hand and nudged him toward the car. "Go. Text me when you're home." Reluctantly, Jethro sighed and got in, knowing his grandfather was waiting. After he left, Darcy checked the time. Hugo might still be at her place. She decided to linger until after dark. The sun sank, twilight faded, and streetlights flickered on, painting Aethelburg's skyline with its nightly brilliance before Darcy finally drove home.She picked up her phone from the console, noticing Jethro's earlier text. She typed a reply with a smile, "I'm home too." Being with someone you liked felt like this—sweetness lingered even in their absence. But as she stepped out of the car, her smile froze. Parked nearby was a familiar black Maybach. Zane leaned against it, a cigarette between his fingers, a small pile of discarded butts at his feet. Looked like he'd been waiting a while. Darcy frowned. Shouldn't he be busy managing his fiancée's crisis? Why is he here? She soon had her answer. Seeing her, Zane stamped out his cigarette and strode over. Darcy instinctively took a half-step back, covering her nose in disgust. The smell of smoke was overwhelming. The raw revulsion in her eyes was like a physical blow to Zane's chest. He stopped short. "Darcy..." His voice was hoarse. She took another step back. "Don't tell me you're here for me again? I thought you'd recovered from your habit of ambushing people. Guess the relapse is worse than ever. Does your fiancée know?" She raised an eyebrow. "Oh, right. She's got her own mess to deal with. Probably doesn't have time to keep tabs on you." Her words drained the color from Zane's face. After a moment, he offered a bitter smile. "Darcy, I came to ask you to stop. I know Zora has been rude to you. I know you resent John. But what you're doing to her is too cruel. Framing a girl with these fake scandals is vicious." For a second, Darcy thought she was hearing a foreign language. Otherwise, why did none of that make sense? She laughed, a cold, sharp sound. "Zane, don't tell me you think Zora's current trouble is my doing?"Zane's brow furrowed. "Can you say you have nothing to do with the online storm? Even if it wasn't you directly, it was Cindy. But the intention is the same—to get revenge for you." Darcy let out a derisive scoff. "So what if it is? If she hadn't done those things, what would she have to fear? Only the guilty are afraid of ghosts from their own past."