She turned around to see the smug look on Damian’s sister, Nina.Elara tensed up as her words filled the air with disdain. The crowd, fully engaged in the unfolding drama, shifted uncomfortably, hungry for more spectacle.“Don’t you have anything better to do, Nina?” Damian’s voice was cold as he fixed his gaze on his sister. He was clearly losing patience with the situation.Nina raised an eyebrow, unbothered by his tone. “I’m only stating the obvious, brother. Everyone can see your wife is affected. Don’t pretend this is just some harmless misunderstanding.”Elara looked at her. She knew Nina was trying her best to paint her red in front of everyone, but she refused to be humiliated any further. She straightened her back, forcing a smile.“Nina, if you’re so keen on discussing other people’s emotions, maybe you should start with your own,” she said, her voice calm but edged with steel.Her expression faltered, and for a brief moment, a flash of anger crossed her features. But she qu
She watched as Vera was escorted out, her chest tightening with conflicting emotions. She felt a strange mix of relief and guilt over what had just happened. The evening had taken a dark turn, and though Vera’s attack was unjustified, seeing Damian react with such violence unsettled her. His possessiveness, though meant to protect, felt suffocating.Damian’s grip on her hand loosened slightly as he turned to face her, his intense gaze softening. “Are you okay?” he asked quietly, his voice gentle amidst the chaos that had just unfolded.She nodded, though she wasn’t sure if she was being truthful. The way everyone’s eyes were on them was unbearable. She could feel the whispers, the judgment, and the assumptions swirling around the room. It was too much. Too much to bear.“I need some air,” she murmured, pulling her hand free from Damian’s grasp. Without waiting for his response, she headed for the exit, her mind replaying everything that had transpired.Stepping outside, the cool night
Damian’s words echoed in Jackson’s head as consciousness slowly returned. The pounding headache and the bitter taste in his mouth were stark reminders of last night’s breakdown. He groaned, attempting to piece together the fragments of his memories.“Here,” a soft voice spoke, and he opened his eyes to find Elara holding out a glass of water and some aspirin. “This should help.”Jackson accepted them gratefully, taking in his surroundings. He was in Damian’s guest room, still wearing his rumpled suit from the party. The events of the previous night came rushing back—his emotional outburst, the things he’d said to Damian.“God,” he muttered, pressing his palms against his eyes. “What have I done?”“You needed to let it out,” Elara said gently, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Sometimes pain demands to be felt.”Jackson lowered his hands and looked at her. There was something different about her today. A sadness in her eyes that hadn’t been there before. He remembered her taking his win
Days melted into weeks, life settling into a rhythm that felt both familiar and hollow. Elara threw herself into her routine with almost mechanical precision—morning coffee, work meetings, social obligations, all performed with a smile that never quite reached her eyes. She mastered the art of looking fine, of laughing at the right moments, of making small talk with the house staff as if her heart hadn’t been shattered that night.In Damian’s presence, she was the perfect picture of composure. Their interactions became a carefully choreographed dance of polite exchanges and measured distances. She attended his business dinners with practiced grace, played her role as his wife flawlessly, all while building walls around her heart brick by brick. To anyone watching, she was the same Elara she’d always been.“Damian,” she called, knocking on his door.“What do you need?” he asked immediately as he opened the door.“I need to talk to you,” she replied with a heavy heart. He looked at her,
Elara gazed at her reflection in the penthouse window, the city lights below shimmering like fallen stars. The burden of her promise to take Damian to the hospital lingered on her mind. How could she bring him to see her mother when their marriage was merely a business deal? The idea of revealing their arrangement to her mother filled her with dread.Her phone buzzed with a message from James: “Mom keeps talking about meeting him.” She placed the phone face-down on the marble countertop, unable to bear the reminder of her mounting lies.The sound of the front door opening pulled her from her thoughts. Damian’s footsteps echoed through the foyer, steady and measured as always. She turned to face him, gathering her courage.“We need to talk,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt.Damian loosened his tie, raising an eyebrow. “About?”“My mother.” She watched his expression carefully. “She wants to meet you.”“I see.” His face remained impassive, but she noticed his shoulders tense
The week passed slowly with a blur of board meetings and spreadsheets, but Elara couldn’t shake off the memory of Damian’s interaction with her mother. His gentle smile and thoughtful questions replayed in her mind, a flawless act that tugged at her heartstrings.She buried herself in work, staying late at the office to avoid the penthouse’s oppressive silence. But on Friday evening, a text message lit up her phone:“Car will pick you up at 2 PM tomorrow. - D”No question mark, no room for negotiation. Typical Damian. She started typing a response about having plans, then stopped. The truth was, she wanted to see her mother again. If that meant enduring another afternoon of pretense with Damian, so be it.Saturday arrived clear and crisp. When Elara stepped into the car, she found Damian already inside, reading something on his tablet. He wore a casual blue sweater that probably cost more than her first car, but it softened his usual sharp edges.“You’re early,” she said, settling int
Elara stood before her closet, scanning rows of carefully organized dresses. “Wear something nice,” he’d said, as if every piece of clothing she owned hadn’t been meticulously selected to meet his exacting standards. She pulled out a deep burgundy dress she’d been saving for their next business dinner, its silk material flowing like wine through her fingers.Seven o’clock approached with maddening slowness. She found herself checking her appearance in every reflective surface, adjusting her hair, second-guessing her choice of jewelry. “This is ridiculous,” she muttered to her reflection. “It’s just dinner with your fake husband.”At precisely 6:55, she emerged from her room to find Damian waiting by the elevator. He wore a charcoal suit that made his shoulders look impossibly broad, his usual severe expression softened by something she couldn’t quite read.“You look...” he paused, his eyes traveling from her face to the hem of her dress. “Appropriate.”Elara bit back a retort. Of cour
The office felt suffocating. Elara stared at the contract on her desk. A merger agreement she’d been reviewing for the past hour, but the words blurred together. All she could think about was Damian’s cold demeanor at breakfast, so different from the man who had kissed her last night.A knock on her door made her jump. “Come in,” she called, straightening her posture.Mia, her assistant, poked her head in. “Mr. Blackwood requests your presence in the conference room. The Chen merger team is here early.”Of course they were. Elara gathered her files, checking her reflection in her phone’s dark screen. Professional. Composed. Everything a corporate lawyer should be.The conference room was already full when she arrived. Damian stood at the head of the table, commanding the room’s attention as he always did. Their eyes met briefly as she entered, and for a moment, she thought she saw something flicker in his expression.“Mrs. Blackwood,” he said formally, “please walk us through the lega
The tension in the room intensified as Vera broke away from the kiss, her gaze fixed on Jackson’s face. His expression was gentle and vulnerable, just as she had hoped. She reached out to touch his cheek, a deliberate move to draw him further into her grasp.“I’ve been so lost without you,” she whispered. “There’s something I need to tell you, something important.” She led him to sit beside her on the plush sofa, her movements deliberately hesitant. “It’s about Elara.”Jackson stiffened at the name. “What about her?”“I’ve heard... troubling things.” Vera’s voice trembled perfectly. “About her connection to certain criminal elements. People who’ve been released from prison recently.” She watched his expression shift, doubt creeping in like a shadow.“She isn’t the type.”“Are you accusing me of lying, Jack?" she interrupted, cutting him off. “You’ve known me since we were kids.”“Vera.”“You don’t trust me, do you?” She stopped. “Or do you still believe I have feelings for Damian and
Daniel Regars stood outside the towering iron gates, a free man for the first time in years. He inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with the crisp air of freedom, but it did little to soothe the rage simmering beneath his calm facade. Freedom meant nothing to him, not when his family was shattered, his father dead behind prison walls.He didn’t know why he was released so soon, but he could take this opportunity to destroy both of them.Daniel clenched his fists, a dark smile flickering at the corners of his mouth. “They’ll pay,” he murmured to himself. “For my father, for my family. They will both pay.”He didn’t know when or how, but vengeance had been his only thought, the one idea keeping him alive in that cell, counting down the days to his release. Who knew he could be released sooner? Now he was out, and nothing would stand between him and retribution.Daniel didn’t waste time. He knew he would need allies, someone who shared his hatred for Elara and Damian. His mind circled back
Elizabeth’s living room settled into a delicate quiet, broken only by the baby’s soft coos and the gentle tick of an antique clock on the mantel. Her hands trembled slightly as she smoothed her skirt, decades of stolen life weighing heavily in the air between them.“You must have so many questions,” Elizabeth said, her voice carrying the weight of unbearable loss. “About what really happened. About her.”Damian sat on the couch beside Elara, who was still cradling their son. His eyes hadn’t left the baby’s face, as if memorizing every detail he’d missed. “Start from the beginning,” he said, his voice tight. “Start with how Serena stole everything.”Elizabeth’s composed demeanor cracked, revealing raw pain beneath. “She was Father’s illegitimate daughter. My half-sister. But being Father’s secret child wasn’t enough for her – she wanted everything. My life. My identity.” She paused, struggling with the memories. “The day you were born, son... the happiest day of my life became my worst
Damian’s car wound through the quiet streets of the suburban neighborhood, each turn bringing them closer to the address Ghost had provided.Elara’s fingers drummed restlessly against her thigh, her heart pounding in her chest with each passing moment. The sun cast long shadows across the pavement, a reminder of how their world had shifted since Nina’s revelation just days ago.“It’s just around this corner,” Damian said, his voice tight with an emotion Elara couldn’t quite place. He had been unusually quiet since they’d left the house, lost in thoughts he seemed reluctant to share. His knuckles were white against the steering wheel, betraying the tension coursing through him.The car slowed to a stop before a modest two-story home, its white exterior pristine against the backdrop of a well-maintained garden. Rose bushes lined the walkway, their blooms adding splashes of color to the serene setting. Elara reached for the door handle, but Damian’s hand caught her wrist, stopping her.“
Elara felt Damian tense beside her, his hand tightening around hers.“The baby,” Nina said, her voice barely above a whisper. “The one my mother had killed... he’s alive.”The words hung in the air, seeming to suck the breath from Elara’s lungs. Alive? How could that be possible? She had mourned that child, had borne the devastating grief of his loss for months.“What are you saying?” Damian asked, his voice tinged with a desperate hope that Elara dared not give in to.“I overheard her,” Nina explained, her gaze fixed on the ground. “Giving instructions to the assassin, Ghost... she wanted the baby dead, to sever the last tie between you and Elara. But I... I couldn’t let him do it. I begged him, pleaded with him, until he agreed to spare the child’s life.”Elara felt the world tilt on its axis, her heart racing as the implications of Nina’s words sank in. Their child, the one they had been robbed of, was alive. Alive and out there, somewhere, all this time.“Where is he?” she demande
“Nina, my daughter,” Serena called as she spoke softly to her. “Thank you for coming.”Nina smirked, studying the frail woman before her with cold eyes. She hadn’t come out of concern or love. The only reason she was here was her mother’s manipulative threat of self-harm. The text message still burned in her mind: Come see me, or I’ll end it all. Another one of her mother’s desperate plays for attention.A bitter smirk twisted Nina’s lips. She may have been forced here, but that didn’t mean she had to pretend this was a happy reunion.“What do you want?” she asked, her tone sharp and irritable.“I know you must be angry with me, my dear daughter,” Serena said.She cut her off. “What do you want?”Serena drew a theatrical sigh, her shoulders slumping. “Please forgive me,” she whispered, her voice honeyed with practiced remorse. Her fingers clutched at the fabric of her sleeve. “You need to get me out of this place. I don’t belong here.” Her eyes darted around the stark walls before fix
After the trial, the city of Blackwood experienced a sense of relief, as if it had finally escaped the shadow of the Blackwood dynasty. The streets, once under the family’s influence, were now vibrant with a renewed energy and hope for a brighter future.Damian, driven by his own painful past, assumed leadership at Blackwood Industries, spearheading a transformation with Elara and their loyal allies. Together, they tackled the challenging mission of rooting out the long-standing corruption within the company.“It’s going to take time, but we’re committed to making this right,” Damian told a gathering of employees, his voice steady and resolute. “Serena’s crimes may have shattered the Blackwood name, but we’re going to rebuild it - piece by piece, if necessary - into something this city can be proud of once more.”The road ahead was not an easy one. Restoring the company’s reputation, repairing the damage done to its financial standing, and regaining the trust of both customers and sha
In the days following Serena Blackwood’s arrest, the city seemed to hold its breath, awaiting each new revelation that would shake the Blackwood empire to its core. The carefully crafted public image Serena had cultivated for decades had crumbled, and now the full extent of her crimes was being laid bare.At the center of the unfolding scandal was Detective Morrison, the man who had worked tirelessly to bring Serena down. As the FBI sifted through the trove of evidence seized from Blackwood Tower, Morrison began piecing together the connections that would ultimately unravel Serena’s web of deceit.One name kept surfacing in the financial records and encrypted files— Travis Blackwood, Richard’s younger brother. “We always suspected there was more to Travis’s role than simply being Richard’s brother,” Morrison told reporters, his stern expression betraying none of the triumph he surely felt. “But the depth of his involvement in the Blackwood family’s downfall is staggering.”According to
The morning dawned cold and gray over the city, a fitting backdrop for the day that would shatter the foundations of one of its most powerful dynasties. The first news alert came at 6:47 AM: “BREAKING: FBI RAIDS BLACKWOOD TOWER.” By 7:15, every major network had camera crews positioned around the gleaming skyscraper that had long stood as a monument to Serena Blackwood’s power.They were all there to witness her fall.Inside her penthouse office, Serena stood perfectly still as federal agents swept through the room, methodically dismantling the careful façade she’d maintained for thirty-one years. Her signature pearls – Elizabeth’s pearls, really – lay in an evidence bag, along with the contents of her private safe: passports, birth certificates, and a single, faded photograph of two sisters smiling on a Swiss mountainside.“Sarah Winters,” the lead FBI agent read from her warrant, “you are under arrest for identity theft, conspiracy to commit murder, fraud...”The list continued, but