เข้าสู่ระบบELARA'S POV:I feel a surge of anger but I push it down."Why are you doing this?" I ask.She tilts her head. Her eyes are dark and unreadable."Because I love Alistair," she says. "I have always loved him. And I am not going to let you have him.""He does not love you.""He will. Once you are out of the picture."I step closer. I feel the heat of my anger rising again."You need to stop," I say. "You need to leave us alone. Or I will destroy you."She laughs. It is a cold, brittle sound."You cannot destroy me," she says. "I have more money. More power. More connections. You are nothing, Elara. Nothing without the Valancourt and Ashcroft wealth or backings."I look at her and I feel a quiet certainty and cold resolve inside me."We will see," I say.I turn and walk out of the penthouse. The door closes behind me. I stand in the hallway for a moment, breathing hard, my heart pounding in my chest. My fingers curl into tight fists at my sides.I have made my point. I have
ELARA'S POV:Two days have passed since the break-in. Two days of sleepless nights and endless questions and the slow, grinding process of trying to piece my life back together. The police have come and gone. The forensic team has dusted for prints. The security company has installed new locks and cameras. But the fear remains, a cold knot in my chest that I cannot seem to untangle. I catch myself looking over my shoulder every time I step into a room.I have not been able to sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I see the destruction. The torn sketches. The slashed fabric. The mannequins knocked over like fallen soldiers. Everything I have been working on for months, destroyed in a single act of malice. My hands still shake whenever I think about the ruined clothes sitting on the floor.I have been doing my own research. I have been tracking Mira's movements, her connections, her patterns. I have been digging into her past, her finances, her relationships. I know she hired a private
ALISTAIR'S POV:I quickly dressed up and grab my keys. I am out the door before I can even think.The drive to her penthouse is a blur. I do not remember the traffic or the lights or the streets. I only remember the fear and the desperate need to get to her, to hold her, to make sure she is okay. My hands are gripping the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles are white. My jaw is clenched. My heart is pounding. I hit the gas pedal harder, ignoring every red light on the way.I arrive within minutes. Her door is unlocked when I push it open."Elara?" I call out."Here," she says. Her voice is small, coming from the back of the apartment.I follow the sound. I find her in her studio. She is on her knees, surrounded by the wreckage of her work. Her face is wet with tears, heer hands are shaking and her whole body is trembling.I kneel beside her. I take her in my arms. She clings to me, her fingers digging into my shirt, her face buried in my chest. She is crying. Her whole b
ELARA'S POV:A Few Days Later…The day had been long and exhausting.I spent hours at the studio, working on a new collection, trying to lose myself in the familiar rhythm of fabric and thread and design. The pieces were coming together beautifully, each one more intricate and delicate than the last. I was proud of what I was creating. I was excited about the future. The collection was going to be my best yet, a celebration of everything I had been through, everything I had overcome. I had spent so much time carefully choosing each color and pattern.But I was also tired. Bone tired that comes from carrying too much weight for too long. The scandal with Vivienne. The constant fear of being exposed. The relentless pressure of building a career while trying to protect the people I love. My body ached from standing over the cutting table all afternoon.All I wanted was to go home, take a hot bath, and forget about everything for a while.When I step into my penthouse, I know somet
MIRA'S POV:Hell no, I am not finished.That is the thought that circles through my head as I sit in my penthouse, staring at the photograph on my laptop screen. The room is dark except for the glow of the monitor. I am not finished. I am not done. I am not going to let Alistair Ashcroft reject me and walk away like I am nothing. I tap my fingernails against the desk as I stare at his face.He chose her. He chose Elara. He made me feel small and worthless and invisible.And now he is going to pay.I have been planning this for weeks. Every single part of this plan had to be calculated down to the smallest detail. The photograph is perfect. I hired a photographer, a man who specializes in this kind of work. He is very discreet but is fucking expensive and he is very, very good at his job. He did not ask what I needed it for, and I did not need to tell him.I found a man who looks like he could be Elara's type. Tall. Handsome. Dark hair. Blue eyes. He is an upcoming actor, a nobo
ALISTAIR'S POV:I walk out of the restaurant and I do not look back.The night air is cool on my face as I take a deep breath and the air fills my lungs, cold and clean.I feel something release in my chest. Relief. I was right to leave. I was right to be clear with her.Mira is dangerous. I have known that since the moment I saw her at that conference. She is brilliant and ambitious and she does not take rejection well. She wanted me. She wanted to possess me. And when she realized she could not have me, she turned cold. I saw it in her eyes, the shift from warmth to ice, the way her smile faltered and her hands clenched into fists.She is going to try something. I do not know what. But she is going to try something.My thoughts went to my Elara, the way she laugh, and her smile. The way she looks at me like I am the only person in the world. She is everything Mira is not. She is kind and genuine and loving. She does not play games. She does not manipulate. She just loves me. T
KIER'S POV:I pour myself a drink and I sit in the dark and I wait for her to come back.She always comes back.But she does not come back.A week passes. Then another. The penthouse stays empty. My calls go straight to voicemail. My texts go unanswered. I send messages through her email, through s
She watched from the window as her father walked out to greet him.August Valancourt shook Lysander's hand with both of his, the way he did with people he truly respected, and he said something that made Lysander nod solemnly. Then her mother appeared, and Isabelle kissed Lysander on both cheeks, t
Celestine started cooking at three in the afternoon, flour on her hands, music playing low from her phone and the smell of tomatoes and garlic filling the whole penthouse.She made the sauce from scratch, the way her grandmother taught her when she was maybe ten years old. She rolled out the pasta
The first time Kier met Sable Morwenna was at a charity gala about six months after his father died.He was standing by the bar, looking miserable, drinking too much and wishing he could leave. And then this woman just appeared next to him, like she had materialized out of thin air."You look like







