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(Elara's POV)The car died with a sad little cough and a shudder. Just completely gave up. We were still on the canyon road, but further down, pulled over on a narrow gravel shoulder. The cliff wasn’t right next to us anymore, just some scrubby bushes. My heart, which had finally started to slow down, began hammering all over again.“Great,” Peter muttered, slapping the steering wheel. “Just great.”He tried turning the key. Nothing. Not even a click.“I’ll call for another car,” he said, pulling out his phone. He frowned at the screen. “No service. Of course.”I pulled out my own phone. One bar. And my battery was in the red. 5%. A little lightning bolt icon warned me.“I have a little juice,” I said, my voice thin. “I’ll try an Uber or something.”My hands were still shaking. I fumbled with the app. It searched and searched for a signal. The bar disappeared. Then came back. The wheel of death spun on my screen.“Come on,” I whispere
(Elara's POV)The party was too much. The Annual Silver Lake Gala. Just another excuse for rich people to wear expensive clothes and remind each other how rich they were. All noise and shiny teeth and perfume so strong it made my head hurt. I stood by a potted palm tree, holding a glass of bubbles I wasn't drinking. My dress was tight. My feet hurt. I wanted my couch.This was Silas's world. He used to own rooms like this. He'd chat, make a deal, charm someone's wife, all before dessert. Now I was just his stand in, and everyone's eyes kept slipping past me, looking for the real power. Looking for him.I saw them across the crowd. James, Claudia, Mel. Standing together like a perfectly arranged bouquet of poison ivy. My stomach turned. I was about to slip out to the balcony when a voice cut through the buzz right next to me."Well, look who's here. Flying solo tonight, Elara?"I knew that voice. Marcus Thorne. The guy who'd spent ten years t
(Elara's POV)The box was back on the high shelf in the laundry room, next to the lockbox with the poison pills. Two boxes, two different kinds of poison. I stood there staring at them after Silas told me his idea.“You want me to do what?”He was propped up in bed, looking more tired than ever, but his mind was a steel trap. “I want you to talk to him,” he said, his voice calm. “You’re hurt. You’re confused. The lawsuit is scary. You just want to understand. You just have to say something, just to make him believe that you want closure.”“He’ll never believe that.”“He’ll want to believe it,” Silas corrected me softly. “His ego will want to believe you’ve come crawling back because you can’t handle things without a man. It’s the story he’s always told himself about you. So give him the story. Get close. Listen. A man who thinks he’s winning lets his guard down. He says things.”The thought made my skin crawl. To smile at James. To let
(Elara's POV)The little bell on the shop door jingled, a sound too bright for the weight in my chest. I stepped into the smell of cut wood, old paper, and the tang of glue. An old man with kind eyes and green stained fingers looked up from a worktable. He didn't speak, just lifted his chin toward the back of the room where a heavy curtain, dark blue and faded, hung across a doorway.My heels clicked on the scuffed wooden floor. The sound felt too loud. I pushed the curtain aside.The back room was small, a cave lit by a single metal shaded lamp hanging over a big worktable. Tools and frames were everywhere. Mark Brennan stood in the far corner, leaning against a tall filing cabinet. He was so still he seemed part of the shadows. He gave me a slow, almost invisible nod.At the table sat a young woman.She was maybe twenty five. She had dark hair pulled into a messy knot, and she wore a simple gray sweater. Her hands were r
(Elara's POV)The bell rang. I stood by my car, keys digging into my palm. The normalcy of it, the minivans, the other moms in yoga pants, the shrieks of kids set free, felt like a thin curtain over a different, dangerous world.Then I saw Nora. My girl, her face lighting up. “Mommy!” That one word pulled me back. I scooped her up, breathing her in. For two seconds, it was just us.“Hey, my love. Frog day, right?” I said, setting her down.“Green frogs!” she confirmed, grabbing my hand.We turned toward the car. That’s when I saw her.Claudia. Leaning against her silver car, sunglasses on, looking like she owned the sidewalk. She wasn’t here for a kid. She was here for me.My stomach turned to ice. I tightened my grip on Nora’s hand. “Keep walking, sweetie.”We were almost past when Claudia moved, stepping smoothly into our path. “Elara. Fancy seeing you here.” Her smile was cold.“It’s not fancy, Claudia. Move.”She
(Elara's POV)Two weeks later, I sat in a cafe, my hands wrapped tight around a paper cup of tea I hadn't tasted. The warmth was just something to hold onto. Across from me, Lydia stirred a spoon in circles through her coffee, the clink-clink-clink the only sign of her nerves. The sound was driving me crazy.We were waiting for Mark Brennan.The door chimed. A man in a plain grey jacket walked in. He had the kind of face you'd forget two minutes after seeing it. Average, clean-shaven, calm. He spotted us and walked over, sliding into the booth beside Lydia with a quiet nod."Elara. Lydia.""Mark," I said, my throat tight. "Thank you for coming.""Silas said it was priority," he said, like that explained everything. He placed a simple manila folder on the table between us. He didn't open it. "Before I show you what's in here, I need you both to understand something. This isn't a theory. This is a reconstruction. I'







