Elara landed hard, her back hitting the ground first.
Cameras flashed wildly, capturing the fall from every angle.
She looked toward Julian instinctively. But his face was a cold, unmoving mask.
And in that moment, she understood what he wanted from her, and the realization stung.
He wanted her to speak for him. To tell the press it was all a misunderstanding. That Seraphina was ill, and he was only there out of concern. That it was kindness, not betrayal.
Clutching her belly, Elara lowered her head and let a faint smile cross her face.
The sky above was clear, sunlight streaming through the gaps in the crowd. But none of it reached her.
She steadied herself and slowly rose to her feet.
Then, without looking back, she said calmly, “I feel sorry for Miss Rivers. But that’s all.”
Someone nearby, oblivious, asked, “So, are you friends with her?”
Elara let out a short laugh. “Friends? No. I wouldn’t call someone clinging to my husband a friend.”
She turned and waved to Maya, who had just pulled up.
“Elara!” Julian called after her, his face flushed with rage.
But she didn’t turn around. She stood tall and kept walking.
Maya got out and hurried toward her friend, scoffing as they left, “You’d think they were the married couple confronting the home-wrecker. Absolutely ridiculous.”
Seraphina’s lips parted to respond. “You…”
But Maya cut her off before she could say a word. “What? Tell me I’m wrong. If you’re planning to use the press to scare me, go ahead. I’ve got nothing to hide.”
Seraphina’s face turned even paler, looking as if she might faint.
Reporters scrambled, their voices rising all at once.
Maya ushered Elara into the car, not sparing another glance behind them.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “She’s definitely faking it. I’ve seen enough of these cases to tell in a second.”
Elara gave her a small smile. “I’m not worried about her. I’m worried about you. What if this mess affects your job?”
At a red light, Maya grinned and nudged her. “Don’t forget my dad’s the hospital director.”
Elara raised an eyebrow. “The same dad you swore you’d never speak to again?”
Maya shrugged. “You never know when a connection comes in handy. Honestly, sometimes I wish all the powerful people out there were my dads.”
They both laughed, the tension slowly easing from Elara’s face. As the light turned green, the car moved forward again.
“I’ve got the afternoon free,” Maya said, stretching. “Whatever you need, I’m ready.”
Playing along, Elara turned to her with a sly grin. “Great. I need help with something.”
“What is it?” Maya asked curiously.
“Help me move.” She grabbed Maya’s wrist. “You can’t back out now.”
Maya groaned but gave in.
Before long, the two of them arrived at the house Elara had shared with Julian, along with a team of movers and organizers.
The house had been put together quickly after their rushed wedding.
Everything—the furniture and layout—had felt temporary at first. But over the year, Elara had made it a home, filling it with warmth.
At least, she had tried.
Maya directed the workers while Elara moved quietly around the room, her hands lightly touching every object. On a shelf, she spotted a bottle of Chanel No. 5.
The first gift Julian ever gave her. He had brought it back from a business trip.
About the Author
