The Harrington boardroom had never felt this tense.
Elara sensed it the moment the doors slid open.
The room was vast, lined with dark polished wood and floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the city Lucas ruled. Every seat around the table was occupied—men and women in tailored suits, faces carved from money and impatience.
Conversation died instantly.
All eyes moved to her.
Lucas walked in beside her, his hand resting lightly at the small of her back. The touch was deliberate. Possessive. A silent warning to everyone watching.
She kept her chin high.
This was not the life she had imagined for herself.
But it was the one she was standing in now.
"Mr. Harrington," one of the board members said coolly. "You're late."
Lucas took his seat at the head of the table without apology. Elara hesitated only a second before sitting beside him.
The hesitation did not go unnoticed.
"She's staying?" another voice asked.
"Yes," Lucas replied evenly. "She is."
