The tension in the private dining room was a living thing,
thick and suffocating, and it had nothing to do with the untouched gourmet
food. Andy, Silas's ever-efficient shadow, stood poised by the door. A single
glance from his boss was all it took; he snapped to attention, crossing the
room in three swift, silent strides.
Under the wary, astonished gazes of her family, Elara
watched as Andy produced two stark white documents from his briefcase and laid
them on the table before Robert like a judge passing a sentence.
"Mr. Hayes," Andy's voice was a neutral,
professional hum. "From Mr. Thorne."
Robert's eyes narrowed into slits, his expression turning
thunderous. A heavy silence descended before he finally reached out, his
movements slow with dread, and picked them up.
The first document drained the colour from his face. His
knuckles whitened, the paper crinkling in his tightening grip.
"Thorne," he gritted out, the name a venomous
growl. "What is the meaning of this?"
It was a financial autopsy of Hayes Corporation—more
detailed and brutally honest than their own internal audits. It laid bare a
recent, catastrophic loss, a secret he'd buried deep within his inner circle.
If this leaked, their stock would be obliterated.
Silas didn't flinch. He merely tilted his chin, a king on
his throne. "Finish it."
Robert took a sharp, steadying breath that sounded like a
puncture and forced himself to the second document. His eyes blew wide, anger
eclipsed by pure, unadulterated shock.
It was the contract. The massive, three-billion-dollar
project every corporate shark in Ashbourne was circling. This single deal could
not only plug the financial hole but launch Hayes Group into a stratosphere of
profit for a decade.
And at the bottom, stark and undeniable, was Silas Thorne's
signature.
The message was a masterclass in power: a threat, followed
by a reward, served on a silver platter. Robert finally understood. This wasn't
a request for a niece's hand. It was a takeover announcement. Elara was now
under new management, and she came with Thorne's absolute protection.
"You're a businessman," Silas's voice was cool,
detached. "You understand cost and benefit. Consider that contract...
settlement for two decades of room and board."
He rose, the motion fluid and commanding, dominating the
space. "My patience has an expiry date. Contact my assistant with your
decision." He said 'decision,' but they all heard 'surrender.'
On cue, Andy offered a crisp, white business card. "At
your convenience, Mr. Hayes."
Robert sat frozen, a statue of warring pride and
desperation. After a tense eternity, he snatched the card with a stiff, jerky
movement, humiliation radiating from him in waves.
Watching him break was surreal. Elara took a slow sip of her
flower tea, the floral taste doing little to calm her pounding heart. This was
it. Her declaration of independence.
"Uncle Robert," her voice was clear, cutting
through the stifling air. "I'm not asking for your blessing. I'm informing
you. Silas and I are getting married."
Her gaze, now cold and steady, landed on her cousin, who
seemed to be trying to become one with the upholstery. "And Bianca? That
box you looted from my room? I want it back. Every photo, every letter. All of
my parents' things. Not a single memory missing."
Bianca flinched, shrinking under the dual weight of Elara's
resolve and the terrifying, silent presence of the man beside her. She pressed
her lips together, wisely choosing silence.
Robert looked at Elara, a tumult of frustration and
something almost like pity in his eyes. "Elara," his tone was grave,
a final, weak attempt at control. "Think. Don't gamble your life on a
transaction. Your parents would never have wanted this for you. You know
why."
The unspoken words hung between them, heavy and accusing:
He's old enough to be your father. This is a farce. You'll be a ornament on the
arm of a tycoon.
Elara blinked, a picture of perfect, infuriating innocence.
"A gamble? Why would it be a gamble?" She turned, and a
breathtakingly tender smile blossomed on her face as she looked at Silas. She
reached for his hand, lacing her fingers through his with a possessiveness that
felt surprisingly real. "Silas loves me. I'm happy. Isn't that what they
wanted? For someone to love me, protect me... spoil me rotten?"
The performance was Oscar-worthy. The shared glance was so
intimate it stole the air from the room.
Robert's face cycled through shades of fury and defeat.
Fine. Let her ruin her life. "Mr. Thorne," he bit out, gathering the
documents—his ransom and his reward. "The... hospitality was...
noted."
He motioned sharply for Claire to wheel him out, Bianca
scrambling in their wake. As the door began to swing shut, Silas's voice froze
them one last time, its quiet authority absolute.
"Mr. Hayes," he didn't bother to look back.
"See that Elly's property is returned. A child's ignorance is one thing.
An adult's is a choice... with consequences."
The threat, now explicit, wrapped around Robert's throat
like a vice. He didn't reply. The door clicked shut. The war was over.
The moment they were gone, the steel left Elara's spine. She
slumped against her chair, exhaling a breath she felt she'd been holding for
years.
Her eyes found Silas, now calmly sipping his tea as if he
hadn't just emotionally eviscerated her family. "Those documents,"
she began, curiosity overriding her fatigue. "The second was the contract.
What was the first?"
A slow, predatory smile touched his lips. "Want to
know?" His voice was a low, intimate rumble that vibrated through her.
She nodded, leaning in despite herself.
He put his cup down and captured her hand, his thumb
painting lazy, hypnotic circles on her palm. A jolt of electricity shot
straight up her arm.
"Then say my name again. The way you did when you were
pretending to adore me." His eyes glinted with knowing amusement.
Elara felt a hot blush creep up her neck. She aimed for
nonchalance. "That was for their benefit. Pure theatrics."
"I know," he conceded, his fingers intertwining
with hers. He lifted their joined hands, a silent claim. "So, what will it
be? Silas?" His smirk was a work of art. "...Or honey?"
The intimate nickname made her heart perform a frantic tap
dance against her ribs. She looked away, finding the pattern on the tablecloth
suddenly fascinating. "We... we can decide on pet names after the
paperwork is signed," she mumbled, her cheeks on fire.
Flustered, she stood up abruptly, needing distance before he
coaxed that very word from her lips. "It's late. We should go."
Silas chuckled, a rich, warm sound that wrapped around her.
He rose, gracefully conceding this round. But the look in his eyes promised the
conversation was far from over. He already knew which name he preferred.
In the secluded darkness of the Rolls-Royce gliding toward
The Oculus, he finally answered her question, detailing the devastating
financial secrets of the first document.
"So," he mused, watching the city lights paint
patterns across her thoughtful face. "What's his play? Fatal pride? Or
profitable surrender?"
Elara was silent for a long moment, watching her old life
blur past the window. She didn't need to think.
"The latter," she said softly, the word tinged
with the ghost of an old hurt. She knew the man. The company was his heart, his
soul. Her future was a small price to pay for its survival. Her newfound shares
only tipped the scales further toward desperation.
Back at the Hayes mansion, Robert locked himself in his
study, the two documents on his desk feeling like live grenades.
Meanwhile, Bianca dragged her mother into her bedroom, her
face a mask of unvarnished panic.
"Mum, you have to fix this!" she whined, nails
digging into Claire's arm. "She wants that box! I don't have a box to give
her!"
Claire's eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. "Start from
the beginning. What have you done?"
Bianca shrunk under her mother's glare. "I... I may
have taken a few things from her room. Over the years. But it was just junk!
It's not like her dead parents left a treasure map! Now she wants it all back,
and I can't—!"
"You foolish child!" Claire hissed, slapping her
daughter's arm in a burst of fury. "Why am I only hearing about this
now?!"
"Because I didn't think she'd ever have the guts to
fight back! But now she has him! That monster would have me arrested just for
looking at her wrong!"
"That little viper," Claire muttered, her mind
racing a mile a minute. She stopped pacing and gripped Bianca's shoulders, her
fingers like talons. "Listen to me. Tell me everything you took. Every.
Last. Thing."
Bianca leaned in, her voice dropping to a terrified whisper
as the confession began to spill out.
The tension in the private dining room was a living thing,
thick and suffocating, and it had nothing to do with the untouched gourmet
food. Andy, Silas's ever-efficient shadow, stood poised by the door. A single
glance from his boss was all it took; he snapped to attention, crossing the
room in three swift, silent strides.
Under the wary, astonished gazes of her family, Elara
watched as Andy produced two stark white documents from his briefcase and laid
them on the table before Robert like a judge passing a sentence.
"Mr. Hayes," Andy's voice was a neutral,
professional hum. "From Mr. Thorne."
Robert's eyes narrowed into slits, his expression turning
thunderous. A heavy silence descended before he finally reached out, his
movements slow with dread, and picked them up.
The first document drained the colour from his face. His
knuckles whitened, the paper crinkling in his tightening grip.
"Thorne," he gritted out, the name a venomous
growl. "What is the meaning of this?"
It was a financial autopsy of Hayes Corporation—more
detailed and brutally honest than their own internal audits. It laid bare a
recent, catastrophic loss, a secret he'd buried deep within his inner circle.
If this leaked, their stock would be obliterated.
Silas didn't flinch. He merely tilted his chin, a king on
his throne. "Finish it."
Robert took a sharp, steadying breath that sounded like a
puncture and forced himself to the second document. His eyes blew wide, anger
eclipsed by pure, unadulterated shock.
It was the contract. The massive, three-billion-dollar
project every corporate shark in Ashbourne was circling. This single deal could
not only plug the financial hole but launch Hayes Group into a stratosphere of
profit for a decade.
And at the bottom, stark and undeniable, was Silas Thorne's
signature.
The message was a masterclass in power: a threat, followed
by a reward, served on a silver platter. Robert finally understood. This wasn't
a request for a niece's hand. It was a takeover announcement. Elara was now
under new management, and she came with Thorne's absolute protection.
"You're a businessman," Silas's voice was cool,
detached. "You understand cost and benefit. Consider that contract...
settlement for two decades of room and board."
He rose, the motion fluid and commanding, dominating the
space. "My patience has an expiry date. Contact my assistant with your
decision." He said 'decision,' but they all heard 'surrender.'
On cue, Andy offered a crisp, white business card. "At
your convenience, Mr. Hayes."
Robert sat frozen, a statue of warring pride and
desperation. After a tense eternity, he snatched the card with a stiff, jerky
movement, humiliation radiating from him in waves.
Watching him break was surreal. Elara took a slow sip of her
flower tea, the floral taste doing little to calm her pounding heart. This was
it. Her declaration of independence.
"Uncle Robert," her voice was clear, cutting
through the stifling air. "I'm not asking for your blessing. I'm informing
you. Silas and I are getting married."
Her gaze, now cold and steady, landed on her cousin, who
seemed to be trying to become one with the upholstery. "And Bianca? That
box you looted from my room? I want it back. Every photo, every letter. All of
my parents' things. Not a single memory missing."
Bianca flinched, shrinking under the dual weight of Elara's
resolve and the terrifying, silent presence of the man beside her. She pressed
her lips together, wisely choosing silence.
Robert looked at Elara, a tumult of frustration and
something almost like pity in his eyes. "Elara," his tone was grave,
a final, weak attempt at control. "Think. Don't gamble your life on a
transaction. Your parents would never have wanted this for you. You know
why."
The unspoken words hung between them, heavy and accusing:
He's old enough to be your father. This is a farce. You'll be a ornament on the
arm of a tycoon.
Elara blinked, a picture of perfect, infuriating innocence.
"A gamble? Why would it be a gamble?" She turned, and a
breathtakingly tender smile blossomed on her face as she looked at Silas. She
reached for his hand, lacing her fingers through his with a possessiveness that
felt surprisingly real. "Silas loves me. I'm happy. Isn't that what they
wanted? For someone to love me, protect me... spoil me rotten?"
The performance was Oscar-worthy. The shared glance was so
intimate it stole the air from the room.
Robert's face cycled through shades of fury and defeat.
Fine. Let her ruin her life. "Mr. Thorne," he bit out, gathering the
documents—his ransom and his reward. "The... hospitality was...
noted."
He motioned sharply for Claire to wheel him out, Bianca
scrambling in their wake. As the door began to swing shut, Silas's voice froze
them one last time, its quiet authority absolute.
"Mr. Hayes," he didn't bother to look back.
"See that Elly's property is returned. A child's ignorance is one thing.
An adult's is a choice... with consequences."
The threat, now explicit, wrapped around Robert's throat
like a vice. He didn't reply. The door clicked shut. The war was over.
The moment they were gone, the steel left Elara's spine. She
slumped against her chair, exhaling a breath she felt she'd been holding for
years.
Her eyes found Silas, now calmly sipping his tea as if he
hadn't just emotionally eviscerated her family. "Those documents,"
she began, curiosity overriding her fatigue. "The second was the contract.
What was the first?"
A slow, predatory smile touched his lips. "Want to
know?" His voice was a low, intimate rumble that vibrated through her.
She nodded, leaning in despite herself.
He put his cup down and captured her hand, his thumb
painting lazy, hypnotic circles on her palm. A jolt of electricity shot
straight up her arm.
"Then say my name again. The way you did when you were
pretending to adore me." His eyes glinted with knowing amusement.
Elara felt a hot blush creep up her neck. She aimed for
nonchalance. "That was for their benefit. Pure theatrics."
"I know," he conceded, his fingers intertwining
with hers. He lifted their joined hands, a silent claim. "So, what will it
be? Silas?" His smirk was a work of art. "...Or honey?"
The intimate nickname made her heart perform a frantic tap
dance against her ribs. She looked away, finding the pattern on the tablecloth
suddenly fascinating. "We... we can decide on pet names after the
paperwork is signed," she mumbled, her cheeks on fire.
Flustered, she stood up abruptly, needing distance before he
coaxed that very word from her lips. "It's late. We should go."
Silas chuckled, a rich, warm sound that wrapped around her.
He rose, gracefully conceding this round. But the look in his eyes promised the
conversation was far from over. He already knew which name he preferred.
In the secluded darkness of the Rolls-Royce gliding toward
The Oculus, he finally answered her question, detailing the devastating
financial secrets of the first document.
"So," he mused, watching the city lights paint
patterns across her thoughtful face. "What's his play? Fatal pride? Or
profitable surrender?"
Elara was silent for a long moment, watching her old life
blur past the window. She didn't need to think.
"The latter," she said softly, the word tinged
with the ghost of an old hurt. She knew the man. The company was his heart, his
soul. Her future was a small price to pay for its survival. Her newfound shares
only tipped the scales further toward desperation.
Back at the Hayes mansion, Robert locked himself in his
study, the two documents on his desk feeling like live grenades.
Meanwhile, Bianca dragged her mother into her bedroom, her
face a mask of unvarnished panic.
"Mum, you have to fix this!" she whined, nails
digging into Claire's arm. "She wants that box! I don't have a box to give
her!"
Claire's eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. "Start from
the beginning. What have you done?"
Bianca shrunk under her mother's glare. "I... I may
have taken a few things from her room. Over the years. But it was just junk!
It's not like her dead parents left a treasure map! Now she wants it all back,
and I can't—!"
"You foolish child!" Claire hissed, slapping her
daughter's arm in a burst of fury. "Why am I only hearing about this
now?!"
"Because I didn't think she'd ever have the guts to
fight back! But now she has him! That monster would have me arrested just for
looking at her wrong!"
"That little viper," Claire muttered, her mind
racing a mile a minute. She stopped pacing and gripped Bianca's shoulders, her
fingers like talons. "Listen to me. Tell me everything you took. Every.
Last. Thing."
Bianca leaned in, her voice dropping to a terrified whisper
as the confession began to spill out.