005 | ELARA ELLIS

The glass doors slide open as I step into the law firm.

Cool air from the air conditioner hits my face, and I keep my head down, the brim of my hat low, sunglasses hiding most of my face. It’s ridiculous, considering I’ve done nothing wrong, but the city has decided otherwise. Divorce turns women into public property. Everyone feels entitled to an opinion.

Which is why I don’t want anyone to see my face.

Two weeks.

That’s how long it’s been since everything fell apart.

Two weeks of a small furnished apartment, unfamiliar ceilings, boxed food, and waiting. Waiting for my visa. Waiting for my name to fade from headlines. Waiting for the noise to die down.

It hasn’t.

Everywhere I go, screens glare back at me. I always see Adrian’s face, Vivienne’s fake smile, and Theo standing just close enough to look loyal, all of them looking like the new happy family they’ve painted themselves to be since news about the divorce came out.

Pushing them away from my thoughts, I walk towards the reception and give my lawyer’s name, letting the receptionist know that he’s called me here.

For what? I have no idea.

“Someone’s with him,” the receptionist says. “But he asked that you come in.”

Of course he did.

I nod and follow the corridor, my heels clicking softly against marble. When I get to the office, I knock on it, then push open the door and walk in.

“Good afternoon,” I greet, closing the door behind me.

My lawyer, Mr. Laurent, rises once he sees me. “Miss Ellis, you’re here.”

I don’t answer. My eyes go to the man seated across from him.

He’s older than most young men I’ve seen. Not by much, though. He looks like he’s in his late thirties or early forties, the lines around his eyes being enough proof of that. He’s dressed simply in a dark suit with no unnecessary flash, watching me the way people do when they already know something I don’t.

“This is Mr. Monroe,” Mr. Laurent says. “He requested to sit in.”

Requested.

I take the chair opposite them, placing my bag neatly by my feet. I don’t remove my sunglasses yet.

“On what basis?” I ask.

Said Mr. Monroe answers before Laurent can. “Because this concerns me too.”

His voice is low and smooth, the words rolling off his tongue in a way that sends a shiver rolling down my spine.

I turn my face fully toward him now. Slowly, then, I remove my glasses, meeting his gaze.

“Does it?” I ask.

There’s a long stretch of silence in the room, but Mr. Laurent breaks it with a clear of his throat. When both my and Mr. Monroe’s attentions turn to him, he smiles, then stands.

“My stay here is over,” he says. “I’ll leave you too to talk.”

Before I can debate, he walks out of the room, the door clicking shut behind him.

Mr. Monroe and I are now alone, and the air suddenly feels charged, suffocating my lungs.

Who is he?

My thoughts are brought to an abrupt halt when Mr. Monroe suddenly drops something on the desk, the sound shattering the silence, and I snap myself back to reality, my gaze fixed on what he dropped.

A folded newspaper.

“This came out this morning,” he says.

I don’t touch it at first.

Instead, I look up at him, wondering why he’s giving me a newspaper, and when he jerks his chin towards it, I slowly pick it, then unfold it.

EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW: ADRIAN VALE AND PARTNER SPEAK OUT

My jaw clenches instantly, my heart skipping, then dropping into my stomach.

Vivienne’s face is right there on the newspaper, appearing soft and concerned, one of her hands on Adrian’s arm like she earned it.

I scan, my gaze roving over the words written on it.

Manipulative. Emotionally unstable. Obsessed with status. Used pregnancy as leverage.

My fingers tighten around the paper, the edges of my vision blurring as white, hot fury courses through my veins.

What the fuck?

“She said I threatened her,” I murmur, my gaze still on the paper even though I’ve finished reading. “Said I was jealous of her ‘natural bond’ with my own child.”

Control, Elara, I tell myself. I’ve already grown past this. I can’t let it affect me.

I feel Mr. Monroe’s gaze still watching me closely. “You don’t look the least bit concerned about it.”

“I already cried over this two weeks ago,” I say, lifting my head to meet his gaze. “I’m done.”

“They’re burying you,” he says calmly. “They’re using public sympathy and narrative control.”

My eyes narrow on him. “You sound impressed.”

“I’m impressed by efficiency.”

I let out a short laugh. “So why am I here?”

“Because your lawyer called you,” he replies smoothly. “And because you showed up.”

I lean back in my chair. “That doesn’t answer anything.”

“No,” he agrees. “It just tells me you’re not afraid.”

I close the newspaper and slide it back to him. “Talk.”

His eyes darken. “Adrian Hale is protected,” he says. “His father even more so. By their money, connections, and old favors.”

I say nothing, waiting for him to continue, but he doesn’t.

I’m already beginning to get fed up by whatever power games this man is playing, and it doesn’t make it even better that his gaze on me makes my skin crawl deliciously.

So, I stand up, about to wear my glasses, and that’s when he finally speaks.

“Marry me, Elara Ellis.”

I freeze. “What?!”

He stands up too and shoves his hands into his pockets, his tall build towering over me. “I’m giving you a proposal to marry me.”

This has to be a sick joke.

My facial expression must have communicated what I’m thinking because he continues.

“I’m not joking.” His deep baritone voice brushes my skin like fingertips. “I mean it. Marry me. And we can make the Hales pay for what they did to you.”

“And what do you gain from that?” I ask. “Because surely, no stranger would help another stranger in something as serious as this.”

“Control,” he says. “Timing. And the satisfaction of watching them fall without realizing who pushed first.”

I study his face. “You hate them, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because Adrian’s father destroyed something that belonged to me,” he says quietly. “And Adrian benefited from it.”

I eye him carefully. “So you want to use me as pawn?”

The corner of his lips twitch into a barely acceptable smile. “Not really. Your hand in it can only make the revenge sweeter.”

“How do you know me?” I ask.

“I’ve followed the case,” he says. “I’ve followed the marriage, divorce, and interviews Adrian and his… lover attended. You, on the other hand, were careful and silent. That made you interesting.”

I eye him again. “Who are you really?”

Without a word, he reaches into his inner pocket and pulls out a card, sliding it across the desk towards me, and I look down, my heart racing in my chest.

Nathaniel Hale Monroe.

The breath swooshes out from my throat, and my head whips up instantly. “Hale?” I repeat. “You’re a Hale?”

“Yes.”

My pulse starts to pound loudly, I can hear nothing over it, and Mr. Hale — the very same man who wants me to remarry into that terrible family — meets my gaze again, his onyx eyes gleaming.

“I am Adrian Hale’s uncle,” he says. “Estranged, forgotten, and conveniently erased.”

The room suddenly feels smaller, the skin at the back of my neck prickling.

“Are you insane?” I ask. “You want me to get married again into the same family that humiliated me?”

“I might possibly be insane,” he replies, slipping his hand back into his pocket. “But I’m asking you to be the woman who ends them.”

I look at the newspaper again, at Vivienne’s soft smile, at Adrian’s smug restraint, then back to Mr. Monroe, my mind now made up.

God, I can’t believe I’m doing this. But Adrian Hale and Vivienne deserve this for spoiling my name out there.

“If I do this,” I say quietly, “I’m not going to play nice.”

His lips curve faintly. “I’d be disappointed if you did.”

I grab the card from the desk, slip it into my bag, and head towards the door. With my hand on the knob, I turn to look at him over my shoulder.

“I’ll think about it,” I say.

He doesn’t stop me.

“I’ll be here when you decide,” he says. “Revenge, after all, prefers patience.”