Chapter 4
Elara
The Ashworth estate always smelled the same.
Even now, standing in the bedroom I had never truly lived in, I could feel all the versions of myself I’d been here. The grateful orphan. The polished daughter. The compliant wife.
I missed him. It stung.
I pushed the thoughts of him aside. Hard. Like slamming a heavy door on a room full of fire. He had no place here.
I adjusted the neckline, smoothing the bodice as I studied my reflection. My body looked... good. Full. Lush. Alive. But my face remained the marble mask I’d been wearing since childhood. Indifference was a survival tactic in a world where I didn’t fit, yet had been wedged into anyway.
I sighed, then straightened my back. Never let them see you wanting, Elara.
Raised voices caught my attention from the foyer. I listened. Alastair. Of fucking course.
I exhaled once, long and steady, then leaned closer to the mirror to tuck a stray curl behind my ear.
The shouting escalated—his mother uttering his full name with the specific kind of fury only a parent can manage.
I didn’t rush. What was the point? Nothing they were yelling about mattered to me anymore.
I stepped into my heels and fastened the straps. A door slammed downstairs. Something shattered. His father barked a string of curses that would’ve made a sailor flinch.
I made my way out of the bedroom while they were still in the heat of it. I descended the staircase deliberately slow, my hand skimming the polished banister, my mind already half-focused on the contract proposal from the Esmé Group partnership.
This wasn't just a deal; it was the Ashworth family’s future.
The Esmé Group was a global titan, and their sudden invitation to tonight's banquet had been the opportunity of a lifetime. For months, I had been the one negotiating the terms, drafting the fine print that would insulate the Ashworth legacy from Alastair’s incompetence.
The goal for tonight was simple but critical, get the new, notoriously reclusive CEO to sign.
If I secured his signature, the partnership would be locked in, creating a structure that would keep the company running smoothly even if Alastair were ever left in charge.
It was my final gift to the people who raised me—and my ultimate insurance policy.
My final thank you. My last act of loyalty. It was the only thing I could give them before leaving this curated life that had never belonged to me.
When I reached the landing, I found Alastair standing in the center of the foyer, red-faced and smug in his suit.
The mistress was on his arm. It had been five days since he’d been back, and she was all his parents spoke of, but I still couldn't remember her name.
She wore a tight, glittering pink dress that was entirely wrong for the occasion.
His mother was pale with fury. His father looked seconds away from an aneurysm; even the tips of his ears were scarlet, and his breathing was heavy and ragged.
“Why would you even think to bring her?” Mrs. Ashworth hissed at her son.
Alastair squeezed the girl’s waist protectively. “She’s coming to the banquet. She’s family.”
“Family?” his father thundered. “You have a wife. A wife you’ve humiliated quite enough.”
I descended the last step, my heel clicking sharply against the marble. All three turned to look at me.
“Elara,” Mrs. Ashworth breathed, reaching for me as if I were the only sane person left in the room. “I’m sorry. You don’t deserve this.”
I gave her a polite, empty smile. “It’s fine.”
“It is not fine,” his father spat.
“She can come,” I said simply.
The entire room froze. I ignored the looks. I ignored the mistress’s trembling lip. I ignored Alastair, who was glaring at me—likely because I’d given in so easily, or perhaps because I had ignored his calls for the last forty-eight hours.
I felt nothing. I had long since run out of things to feel.
“If she wants to attend,” I continued, “let her attend. It makes no difference to me.”
Alastair cleared his throat, looking at his parents. “See? She doesn’t care. So just—stop blowing this out of proportion.”
His father turned on him. “You bring your mistress into my house and expect me to stay silent?”
“She’s carrying my child,” Alastair snapped. “That makes her important.”
“She became unimportant the moment you chose her over your vows,” his father shot back. He softened only slightly when he turned to me. “Elara, you don’t have to tolerate this. We can send her away.”
The mistress opened her mouth to speak, but I cut her off.
“I’m not tolerating anything,” I said. “I’m attending a business function. That’s all.”
His mother gasped softly. “Elara, it’s more than just—”
“No,” I said gently.
Alastair tugged his mistress forward, brazenly. “We’re running late.”
I stepped aside, smoothing my dress and fighting back the sudden, sharp memory of Julian. He would never have put me in this position. He would have hated seeing me here.
I inhaled slowly, steadying my pulse. I needed to stop. Tonight, I needed to be Elara Ashworth. The wife I was raised to be. The daughter they groomed.
I was getting closer to the exit. I just had to get through this banquet.