Chapter 8
2011 O
Damien stormed out of the basement, leaving Elara to the silence and the lingering scent of fear. She heard his footsteps fade away, and only then did she lean against the cold wall, slowly, painfully, pushing herself to her feet.
For the next three days, she was a ghost in the mansion. She confined herself to her room, a self–imposed exile. The meals the staff brought were barely touched. The brilliant sunshine outside her window held no appeal. She wouldn’t give Isabelle another shadow of an opportunity to frame her.
True to his word, Damien didn’t return. He spent those three days with Isabelle, and Elara watched their whirlwind romance play out on the glossy pages of gossip sites. There they were, his arm wrapped protectively around Isabelle’s shoulders as she smiled, radiant and triumphant. When he looked down at her, his eyes were soft with an affection that could melt steel.
On the day before the wedding, Elara sat at her desk. With a steady hand, she wrote down every one of Damien’s preferences and idiosyncrasies on a clean sheet of paper.
He hates cilantro, can’t handle spicy food. Coffee must be Americano, no sugar. Shirts have to be ironed without a single crease. Can’t sleep with any light in the room…
When she finished, she folded the note neatly and called for Lucy, one of the
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This is for you,” she said, her voice a soft whisper. “After the wedding german us.
Lucy looked bewildered. “Ma’am, what is this?”
give it back to
”
whe.
“A reminder, in case I forget,” Elara offered a faint smile. “You know how my memory has been lately.‘
Though she found it strange, Lucy took the note dutifully. “Of course, ma’am. I’ll keep it safe for bein
Once Lucy had gone, Elara dragged a pre–packed suitcase from the depths of her closet. She took that had been her gilded cage for three years. Her gaze lingered on the wedding portrait on the wall.
Damien, handsome as a god. And her, the woman in the priceless gown, with a smile that
”
last look are the room
At the airport, her mother was already waiting.
She carefully lifted the heavy frame from the wall, placed it face down on the desk, and walked out without
was
a
perfect,
bea
a
lie.
backward glance.
She handed Elara a debit card and a plane ticket. “Five million dollars. Not a penny less. From this day forward, you have no conne- ction to the Vance family.”
THE O
Elara took the card, her fingertips trembling almost imperceptibly. She looked up at her mother, who wouldn’t even meet her gaze.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
Her mother’s tone was ice. “You did your job well these past three years. You didn’t cause any problems for the alliance.” She paus- ed. “Go. Go live the life you want.”
Elara nodded and turned toward the security gate.
At the final corner, she glanced back one last time. Her mother was already gone, her retreating back as final and absolute as if Elara had never been her daughter at all.
But she felt no sorrow. She clutched the ticket in her hand, a warmth spreading through her chest, her eyes stinging slightly.
This time, she would finally live for herself.
She walked toward the boarding gate, her posture resolute, and never looked back.
And at that very moment, in the Blackwood estate, a woman who looked almost exactly like her slipped into a wedding gown, quie-
2011
tly waiting for the dawn of her wedding day.
Seraphina was back.
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