The car engine hummed softly as Elena's driver stopped in front of the Cross Mansion.Once, this place had been her cage — filled with marble, silence, and expectations.Today, it was just a house.
She stepped out in heels sharp enough to kill.
The butler blinked when he saw her."Miss White, you're early. Mr. Cross—"
"Mr. Cross will wait," she said, brushing past him.
Her heels clicked against the polished floor, echoing like thunder.Every servant paused — the sweet, polite Mrs. Cross-to-be now carried the energy of a queen returning from war.
In the study, Damian looked up from his laptop."Elena. You're back early."
"I came to collect a few things," she said. "Some of my designs, documents — things that belong to me."
He frowned. "You don't need to handle those personally. I told my assistant—"
She cut him off, voice cool and razor-sharp."I don't need your assistant. Or your permission."
For a heartbeat, silence stretched between them.He wasn't used to this version of her — composed, fearless, unreachable.
"Elena," he said slowly, "is something wrong?"
She met his gaze. "Everything was wrong, Damian. You just didn't notice."
Before he could reply, she walked past him, collecting the sketchbook from his desk — her designs, which he'd once claimed under his name.
"Those are confidential," he warned.
She looked at him over her shoulder."Then maybe you shouldn't have stolen them from me in the first place."
Downstairs, Clara appeared, carrying a silver tray of wine."Oh, Elena! You're still here," she said sweetly. "You should stay for dinner. Damian misses your cooking."
Elena's smile was faint but dangerous."I'm sure he does. Poison tastes better when it's served warm."
Clara blinked, thrown off. "What—"
Elena brushed past her, whispering low enough for only her to hear:"Enjoy the spotlight while it lasts, Clara. The show's about to change."
Outside, the sky was painted in amber and dusk.Elena opened her phone and dialed a number she remembered all too well — the one she used to ignore.
"Ms. White?" The voice on the other end was cautious. "You haven't contacted us since you left the White Corporation."
"Schedule a board meeting," she said. "Tomorrow morning. I'm returning as Executive Director."
There was a long pause. "But your fiancé—"
"I'm not asking for his permission," Elena interrupted. "I'm taking back what's mine."
She hung up before he could reply.
Back inside the mansion, Damian stood by the window, watching her car drive away.For years, Elena had followed his every word.Now, she walked away without looking back — and somehow, that disturbed him more than her anger ever did.
He poured himself a drink, frowning."What happened to you, Elena?" he muttered.