LOGINElara I didn’t look back after Louis drove away.There was no point. The moment the black sedan pulled up outside my apartment building, I already knew who had sent it. Only one person would arrange something so unnecessarily dramatic without offering a single explanation. Alistair. The chauffeur opened the rear door for me. “Miss Elara.” I thanked him quietly and slipped into the car. The door closed with a soft click, shutting out the noise of the street. As the city drifted past the tinted windows, my thoughts refused to settle. Grandpa Valmont’s hopeful smile. The family album. His quiet wish that I would someday become part of their family. Louis’ silence during the drive home.Each memory tugged at me in a different direction. Yet none of them stayed in my mind for long. Because every road eventually led back to the same moment. “I love you.” Three words. Three impulsive words I hadn’t planned to say. Three words Alistair had calmly stepped around as though they
ElaraThe next morning, I stood outside the familiar gates of the Valmont estate with a strange heaviness in my chest.Grandpa Valmont request had echoed in my mind all night.Come alone.The words hadn’t sounded threatening. If anything, they had sounded… personal.The housekeeper welcomed me inside before leading me toward the sitting room, where the old man was already waiting.The moment he saw me, his face lit up.“My dear.”He slowly rose from his chair, opening his arms.I smiled and embraced him carefully.“It’s so good to see you looking stronger.”“And it’s because stubborn people like you refused to give up on me.”I laughed softly.“I only visited.”“You did much more than visit.”He motioned for me to sit beside him.“When everyone else was busy discussing business, inheritance, and appearances, you simply asked whether I had eaten.”His voice carried quiet gratitude.“I’ll never forget that.”A familiar ache settled inside me.“You don’t have to keep thanking me.”“Oh,
ElaraI woke to the faint warmth of morning sunlight spilling through the curtains and the steady rhythm of Alistair’s breathing beside me.For one blissfully quiet moment, I forgot everything.Then last night’s conversation came rushing back.My impulsive confession.His unreadable expression.The way he had simply brushed past it, steering the conversation elsewhere as though I hadn’t exposed one of the most vulnerable parts of myself.It should have embarrassed me.Instead, it left me confused.If he had rejected me, at least I would have understood where we stood. If he had accepted what I said, that would have been terrifying in an entirely different way.But pretending it had never happened?That somehow hurt more.I studied him while he was still asleep, wondering if he truly meant to ignore it forever or if he simply wasn’t ready to confront whatever existed between us.When he finally opened his eyes, there wasn’t even a trace of awkwardness.“Morning.”His voice was calm.Norm
By the time I arrived at Alistair’s penthouse, I felt like I’d been holding my breath for hours. The dinner had ended nearly forty minutes ago, yet the tension still clung to me. The coded conversations.The hidden agreements.The unanswered questions. The feeling that I had walked into a game without knowing all the rules. For the first time since leaving Louis’ residence, I finally exhaled. The moment the elevator doors opened, I found Alistair waiting in the living room. His sleeves were rolled up. A glass sat untouched on the table beside him. He looked up immediately when I entered. “How bad was it?” I laughed softly. “That obvious?” “You’re exhausted.” I slipped off my heels and sank onto the couch. The simple act of sitting down felt wonderful. Alistair waited patiently. And for some reason, that patience made me want to tell him everything. So I did. I started from the beginning. The unusual seating arrangement. Celia’s obvious discomfort. Louis’ silence. T
The dinner continued.But nothing felt the same after Louis’ grandfather casually announced that Celia had never been part of the original guest list.No one mentioned it again.No one needed to.The statement lingered over the table like invisible smoke.Celia remained seated, maintaining perfect posture and a composed expression, but the damage had already been done. She spoke less now. Smiled less. Every contribution felt carefully measured, as though she was recalculating her place within the room.I couldn’t blame her.The hierarchy had been revealed.And everyone had noticed.Across the table, Louis had become quieter.Not withdrawn.Alert.His eyes moved constantly between speakers now.Between his father, His grandfather.Various executives and relatives.And occasionally me.I could feel his attention lingering.He had noticed something.The fact that I wasn’t reacting.Wasn’t asking questions. I wasn't defending myself.I was simply listening.Observing.Learning.My phone vibr
I knew something was wrong the moment I stepped into Louis’ residence.The house was full, yet strangely quiet.Previous gatherings with the family had always carried a sense of movement, laughter, overlapping conversations, people drifting between rooms. Tonight felt different. Everything seemed carefully arranged, as if every seat, every conversation, every person had been placed exactly where they were supposed to be.Or where someone wanted them to be.I paused near the entrance, smoothing my dress as unease settled in my chest.“Elara.”Louis’ grandfather approached immediately.His smile was warm, almost relieved.For a second, I felt as though he had been waiting specifically for me.“You made it,” he said, patting my shoulder affectionately.“Thank you for inviting me.”“Of course.”The certainty in his voice surprised me.Before I could respond, my attention shifted toward the dining room.Louis was already seated. Watching me.Not smiling.Not frowning.The intensity of his gaze
ElaraThe guest room felt too quiet.I lay awake beneath the silk sheets, staring at the ceiling while the events from earlier replayed endlessly in my mind. Every touch. Every word. Every dangerous shift in Alistair’s expression.One second he looked at me like he wanted to ruin me.The next, he h
ElaraI should have left.I told myself that with every step I took toward the elevator, my pulse still uneven, my chest tight from everything that had just happened. The penthouse felt different now—quieter, heavier, like the walls themselves had heard too much.I reached the elevator and pressed
ElaraI knew the moment I stepped into the penthouse that something was off.The air was heavier than usual—thick with smoke and something darker, something restless. The faint scent of whiskey lingered, sharp and unapologetic. My heels clicked softly against the marble floor as I walked in, my eye
ElaraCelia opens her mouth.I did not even let her start.“Oh, no,” I cut in smoothly, lifting a hand as if silencing a child mid-tantrum. “You’ve done quite enough already.”She blinks, clearly not expecting that.I lean back in my chair, crossing one leg over the other, perfectly composed. “In f







