C3 Chapter Three: Through the Window

Chapter Three: Through the Window

Lucas Draven’s sleek black Mercedes purred as it wound down the mountain road. The man himself lounged in the backseat, legs crossed, a faint scowl shadowing his face as he skimmed through a stack of documents. Even under dim light, his presence was sharp, cold, and untouchable.

Beside him, Julien Hayes, his ever-loyal secretary, drove with steady hands. Normally, the mountain roads were silent at this hour—no cars, no pedestrians, nothing but the sound of tires on asphalt.

Which was why Julien’s eyes nearly popped out of his head when he saw it.

“President… am I hallucinating?” he muttered, gripping the wheel tighter. “Or is that… a white horse?”

Lucas didn’t bother looking up. “Focus on the road.”

But Julien’s voice rose an octave. “No, seriously—look!”

With a long-suffering sigh, Lucas finally lifted his gaze. And sure enough, barreling down the slope like some medieval apparition was a white stallion. Its mane whipped wildly in the wind, its hooves sparking against the pavement.

More bizarre, however, was the rider.

Or rather, the man clinging desperately to the horse’s neck like a terrified child. His expression was so pitiful, so utterly at odds with the drama of the scene, that even Lucas’s stoic brows twitched.

“…What in the hell.”

Meanwhile, Ethan Blake was having the worst night of his life.

“I finally find a road, and THIS is how you thank me?!” he shouted at the horse, his voice shrill. “Do you want me dead? Is that it?!”

The horse gave no answer, only ran faster. The wind tore at Ethan’s hair, the cliff loomed closer, and sheer panic took over. If he stayed on, he’d die. If he jumped now, he’d break something—but at least he’d live.

Then he saw it.

The black Mercedes. Sleek. Shiny. A beacon of hope in the darkness.

And—praise all the gods—the back window was wide open.

“…Don’t blame me for this!!!” Ethan screeched.

Summoning every ounce of desperation, he flung himself off the horse.

Inside the car, Lucas barely had time to register movement before something large and flailing shot through the open window.

Julien slammed on the brakes with a horrified yell.

And Ethan Blake—former couch potato, cola addict, and now self-proclaimed ghost survivor—crashed straight into Lucas Draven’s lap.

Time froze.

The young man sprawled across him had wide, frantic eyes and messy hair. His chest rose and fell with ragged breaths, his cheeks flushed pink from adrenaline. For one insane second, Lucas found himself staring into those eyes, his pulse skipping against his will.

Ethan, on the other hand, was losing his mind.

Oh my God oh my God oh my God why does he smell so good?! Wait no—why am I thinking about smell when I just threw myself into a stranger’s car?!

Before either could speak, the Mercedes lurched violently to a stop. The sudden force threw them forward—except Ethan moved on instinct. He twisted his body, shielding Lucas with his own, bracing his arms against the seat.

And just like that, Ethan Blake ended up straddling Lucas Draven, pinning him against the leather seat like some overenthusiastic hero in a romance drama.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Lucas’s icy expression darkened dangerously, though a faint flicker of disbelief lingered in his eyes. The man had dealt with corporate betrayals, assassination attempts, and even underworld enemies—but never in his thirty years of life had someone literally flown into his car.

Ethan’s heartbeat thundered in his ears. His nose brushed against Lucas’s collar, catching the faint scent of cedarwood and something sharper, cleaner—power wrapped in perfume. His brain short-circuited.

“Uh…” Ethan croaked. “…hi?”

Julien Hayes, meanwhile, was dying in the driver’s seat. He clamped a hand over his mouth, fighting laughter so hard his shoulders shook. In all his years working under Lucas, the man had always been untouchable—cold, composed, immaculate. And now?

Now his president was pinned beneath a stranger like a damsel in distress.

Julien thought he might choke.

Finally, Lucas spoke, his voice a low growl.

“Get. Off.”

Ethan scrambled, limbs flailing, until he managed to sit awkwardly at the far end of the seat. He straightened his disheveled shirt, his face burning. “S-Sorry! It wasn’t my fault! The horse—there were ghosts—then I saw the cliff and—”

He trailed off under Lucas’s glacial stare.

“…Ghosts,” Lucas repeated flatly.

“Yes!” Ethan nodded furiously. “Ghosts! You know, spooky, dead people? White legs, no heads, super gross smell—wait, why are you looking at me like that?!”

Lucas leaned back against the leather, one hand brushing invisible wrinkles from his suit. His tone dripped with frost. “Because you sound insane.”

Ethan opened his mouth, then shut it again. Honestly, from the outside, he did sound insane. But he wasn’t lying!

“Look,” he said, forcing a grin, “believe me or not, the important thing is—I didn’t die! And your car saved me, so thank you! You’re like, my knight in shining armor, except with airbags and German engineering.”

Julien snorted before he could stop himself.

Lucas shot him a glare so sharp it could have slit throats. Julien immediately slapped a hand over his mouth again, coughing into his fist. “Apologies, President.”

Ethan blinked between them. “…Wait. President? Are you like… a CEO or something?”

Lucas’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t know who I am?”

Ethan hesitated, then decided honesty was safest. “Should I?”

For the first time all night, Lucas’s expression cracked—not much, just the faintest flicker of incredulity. He was Lucas Draven, head of one of the most powerful conglomerates in the country, feared in both business and underworld circles. And this idiot truly had no idea who he was.

Lucas wasn’t sure if that made the boy suicidal or refreshingly stupid.

Outside, the white horse that had caused all this chaos stood calmly by the roadside, grazing on grass as if nothing had happened. Its tail swished lazily, mocking the chaos it had left behind.

Ethan glanced out the window, groaned, and buried his face in his hands.

“Worst. Night. Ever.”

Julien finally lost the battle against laughter. He bent over the wheel, shoulders shaking, as he choked out, “Oh… oh my god… this is priceless…”

Lucas pinched the bridge of his nose. He had endured countless ridiculous situations in his life, but this?

This topped them all.

And something told him it was only the beginning.