The office felt smaller.
Or maybe it was just Elara, shrinking inside her own mind.
Her fingers hovered above the keyboard, trembling slightly, as if her hands no longer remembered how to live a normal life.
The cursor blinked.
Waiting.
Mocking.
"Coffee?"
She didn't need to look up.
That voice was carved into memory.
She lifted her eyes slowly.
Evan stood there, hands buried in his pockets, shoulders tense like someone preparing for rejection before it even happened.
"I don't drink coffee," she said quietly.
He smiled — sad, soft. "You used to."
She looked back at her screen.
"That was before I learned what it did to my nerves."
Silence settled between them.
Then he sat in the chair beside her.
"I just wanted to check on you," Evan said. "You disappeared."
"I got married."
The words tasted like glass.
His body went still.
"Married?"
She met his eyes.
"Not by choice."
The air between them thickened.
"Is he… good to you?" he asked eventually.
The truth felt complicated.
Dominic was not gentle.
Not soft.
Not warm.
But he was controlled.
And control, sometimes, felt like safety.
"He doesn't force me," she said. "He respects my no."
That mattered.
More than love.
---
That evening, a black car waited outside the publishing building.
Elara stepped inside, the smell of leather and cold air wrapping around her.
Dominic ended his call the second the door shut.
"If anyone follows her," he told the voice on the line, "I want names."
He hung up.
Then looked at her.
"You look tired."
"I worked," she replied.
"I know."
Something in his voice unsettled her.
"How do you—"
"I watch what's mine," he said calmly.
Her heart skipped.
Ownership.
Control.
And strangely… protection.
---
Back at the mansion, her phone lit up.
Bianca Verne.
Her stepsister.
Her stomach dropped.
She stared at the screen.
Answered.
"Elara," Bianca sang sweetly. "I heard you became a billionaire's wife."
"I'm not in the mood for congratulations," Elara replied.
"Oh, I'm not calling to congratulate you," Bianca said. Her voice softened — dangerous.
"I want to visit."
Elara's fingers tightened around the phone.
From across the room, Dominic watched her.
He didn't ask who it was.
He already knew from her face.
"She lives in your past," he said quietly.
"Yes."
"Then we decide whether she belongs in your future."
A pause.
Bianca's voice came through again, honeyed and venomous:
"When can I come see you, dear sister?"
Elara looked at Dominic.
For once, she didn't feel alone in the decision.
And that terrified her most of all