ELISHA’S POV
The moment I stepped back into the hall beside Sylvester, the energy in the room shifted. It was subtle, but it was there—the quiet hush of conversation, the sideways glances, the ripple of realization.
This man beside me—this warm, brilliant, sharp-eyed man—was loved by everyone. And more importantly, respected. Not just because he was old, not just because of his success, but because of the way he carried himself. With grace. With thought.
With real care for people.
Sylvester Möller didn’t hand out affection lightly. So when he entered the room, arm in arm with me, the gossip paused. The doubts wavered. The whispers stopped—at least for now.
He didn’t rush. Every step was measured. Every nod to a guest, every polite smile, was deliberate.
Behind us, my family followed—Anthony with a clenched jaw, my parents with stiff expressions, and trailing at the very back… Natalie and Yasmin.
And suddenly, Natalie was the runt of the litter. She was no longer the glowing center.
