Elara's breath hitched. She shot Chloe an apologetic look, gesturing to
her phone before slipping away to a quieter corner of the restaurant.
"Uncle Rob," she said, her voice low and controlled, "how
is it that I'm only hearing about this now? All these years, and you never once
mentioned my father left anything for me."
She clenched her free hand, her nails biting into her palm as she fought
to keep her composure.
A heavy sigh came down the line. "I only just found it myself,
Elara, while clearing out some old storage. It… it brought back a lot of
memories. Come home tonight, and I'll give it to you."
Leaning against the cool wall, Elara closed her eyes for a brief second.
When she opened them, her gaze was hard and resolved. "Silas's schedule is
packed, and I have my own commitments. Since it was my father's, please mail it
to me. Or I can send someone to collect it from the Hayes residence. It's not a
problem."
The silence on the other end was heavy, thick with displeasure. Robert's
voice, when it came, was laced with a wounded resignation she knew all too
well.
"Elara…" he began, the word a sigh of profound disappointment.
"Is it because of Bianca? Have you let her foolishness push your own uncle
away as well?"
The guilt-trip was a familiar weapon, but today, the blade felt dull.
"This isn't about Bianca," Elara stated, her voice firmer than she
expected. "This is about me."
"If you refuse to come, then so be it," Robert conceded,
though the words sounded strained. "When I have a moment, I will bring it
to you in Oakhaven myself. I wouldn't feel comfortable entrusting your father's
last effects to a courier or a stranger."
His tone shifted then, layering on the concerned patriarch. "You're
moving so far away with Mr. Thorne. You must look after yourself. Remember, if
you are ever mistreated, you call me. The Hayes name may not carry the weight
of Thorne, but I will not stand by while my niece is wronged. I made a promise
to your parents to look after you."
The words, once a comfort, now felt like a cage. "Your care all
these years has been more than enough, Uncle Rob," Elara replied, her
voice softening but losing none of its steel. "You've honoured your
promise. Now, please, focus your attention on Bianca. I am a married woman.
Silas is my choice, and you can rest assured, he would never let any harm come
to me."
"...Very well," Robert finally said, his voice flat and
utterly emotionless. "If that is your wish."
He ended the call before she could ask what, exactly, her father had
left behind.
Elara lowered the phone, her mind racing. What could it be? And why
reveal it now, using it as bait to lure her back?
"Mrs. Thorne?"
Brooke's crisp voice broke through her thoughts. Elara looked up to find
the bodyguard standing a respectful distance away, her sharp eyes missing
nothing.
She forced a smile. "It's nothing. Let's go back. Our food must be
getting cold."
Brooke gave a curt nod, her impassive gaze sweeping over Elara's face
one more time before she stepped aside to let her pass.
Back at the table, Chloe was waiting with a worried frown. "Elly?
Is everything okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."
Elara waved a dismissive hand, picking up her chopsticks. "Just
family drama. Nothing to worry about. Now, let's eat before this delicious food
turns to ice."
Chloe, understanding the unspoken request to drop it, readily launched
into a funny story about her colleagues, and the tense mood gradually lifted.
After lunch, Elara paid the bill, and Chloe handed over a heavy backpack
full of project materials.
"Are you sure you don't want a lift back to Aeternum?" Elara
offered.
"Positive!" Chloe grinned, hoisting her own bag. "The
walk will do me good. Burn off these calories! See you later, Elly!"
With a cheerful wave, she was gone.
Brooke effortlessly lifted the heavy backpack. "Mrs. Thorne, shall
we return to the estate?"
Elara, already typing on her phone, shook her head. "Not yet. We're
making a stop first. At a real estate agency."
Brooke's eyebrow twitched almost imperceptibly, but she said nothing.
"Navigate to this address," Elara instructed, handing her the
phone.
Robert's call had been a stark reminder: besides her shares in Hayes
Group, Grandfather Reginald had also left her two villas. They were empty,
silent monuments to a past life. She had no intention of ever living in them,
and managing tenants from Oakhaven sounded like a nightmare. The smart move was
to sell, to liquidate the past and secure her future. The annual maintenance
fees alone were a drain she didn't need.
The agency she found was reputable and conveniently located near the
upscale Pansy Garden district, specialising in high-end properties.
The moment she walked in and mentioned she wanted to list two villas—one
in Pansy Garden and another in the exclusive Camille Pavilion—the effect was
electric. Two young agents, smelling a life-changing commission, descended on
her with practiced enthusiasm.
After a swift, professional consultation, the more senior of the two
leaned forward, his eyes gleaming. "Mrs. Thorne, we actually have a client
actively seeking a property in Camille Pavilion. Would it be possible to view
it now? I believe we could move very, very quickly on this."
Elara considered it for a moment. There was no time like the present.
"Alright. Let's go."
The villa in Camille Pavilion was only a five-minute drive away. It was
her first time seeing it—a pristine, silent structure that felt more like a
museum exhibit than a home. Grandfather had likely bought it on a whim and
forgotten it. The keys had to be retrieved from the property manager; no one
had ever lived here.
They conducted a thorough tour. The agents took dozens of photos, their
excitement growing with each room. Back outside in the sprawling, manicured
courtyard, they presented her with a market analysis and a proposed listing
price that was even higher than she'd anticipated.
"Are you ready to sign the exclusive mandate agreement with us,
Mrs. Thorne?" the lead agent asked, barely containing his eagerness.
"Yes, let's get it done," Elara agreed, not wanting to delay.
"We can finalise it back at your office."
As the group moved towards the courtyard gate, Brooke's phone buzzed.
Her expression tightened as she listened, and she held up a finger to Elara,
stepping away for privacy.
Understanding, Elara turned to the agents. "You two go on ahead.
I'll meet you at the agency."
She gestured towards her car, parked just outside the villa's gate under
the shade of an ancient oak tree, right next to the neighbouring property's
wall.
The agents nodded and hurried off towards their own car.
Elara walked towards the Rolls-Royce, the crunch of gravel under her
heels the only sound. She reached for the door handle, her key fob in hand.
Suddenly, a powerful arm snaked around her from behind. A large,
calloused hand clamped over her mouth, stifling her gasp of terror. Another
hand gripped her shoulder, yanking her backward, away from the car and into the
deep shadow of the wall between the two properties.
Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic bird in a cage. A cold
dread washed over her, so potent she felt dizzy. The babies. Protect the
babies.
Instead of thrashing, she forced a guttural, muffled sound from her
throat, a desperate hope that Brooke, just meters away, would hear.
"Shhh," a harsh, familiar voice growled directly into her ear.
"Don't make a sound. It's me."
The voice sent a jolt of recognition through her, instantly freezing her
blood. The fear morphed into pure, unadulterated fury.
Sensing her stillness, the man shifted his grip. He spun her around,
pinning her firmly against the rough, cold stone wall. His hand remained
pressed over her lips, a brutal silence.
They were face to face.
And in Elara's wide, furious eyes, reflected the dark, tormented, and
dangerously possessive face of Julian.