The corridor outside the board chamber lay silent — a hollow cathedral of polished stone and extinguished voices.
Elara stood alone beneath the amber lights.
Saved.
That was the word they would use.
Rescued. Protected. Shielded.
Her fingers curled slowly into her palms.
"Saved," she whispered, the word tasting foreign.
A soft scoff escaped her throat.
"Holy shit… saved."
The door behind her opened with a muted click.
"Language," came a calm voice.
Alessandro.
She did not turn.
His footsteps stopped several paces away — deliberate, restrained, infuriatingly controlled.
"You should be resting," he said.
"Should I?" Her laugh came out brittle. "Is that in the contract too?"
Silence.
Then—
"Elara."
Her name in his voice felt less like sound and more like a hand closing around her spine.
She turned.
His gaze held no triumph.
No apology.
Only certainty.
And that frightened her more than anger ever could.
"They will not challenge you again," he said.
