Semua Bab Shattered vows: Revenge of an ex bride: Bab 41 - Bab 50

As she walked further away from the table, ivy wasn't finished. Ivy’s voice was sweet when it came. That dangerous, sugar-laced tone Elara had come to associate with poison.“So,” Ivy said, “tell me, Elara… how does it feel warming the bed of two men? One in the daylight, and one in the shadows?”Elara froze.It was the briefest pause which she was certain that Ivy saw. She turned slowly, walking back to the table and taking her seat in front of her barely touched food. “Excuse me?”Ivy smiled, predatory and smug. “You heard me.”The terrace was too quiet. Somewhere below, a fountain flowed peacefully. Birds chirped like they weren’t sitting in the middle of a battlefield.Elara’s mind raced.Preston. How the hell did Ivy know about Preston?When she mentioned his name the first time, Elara had shifted the topic because she wasn't sure how Ivy knew but didn't want to discuss it further.He was supposed to be invisible. Silent. Her leverage in the background. Killain didn’t even know

Preston watched Ivy storm out of the Silversmith, her heels clicking against the polished floor like war drums fading into the distance.He chuckled, a low sound escaping from his chest as his hand reached forward, wrapping around the rim of his whiskey glass as he lifted it for the first time that evening. Her perfume still lingered faintly in the air, all expensive floral notes masking the rot underneath.The audacity.The manipulation.The desperation poorly hidden beneath tailored silk and veiled insults.He had met sharks before, predators with porcelain smiles and blood on their hands, but Ivy Beckett—she was something else. The kind of woman who couldn’t stand to lose and would rather scorch the earth than admit defeat.Still, it hadn’t been her arrogance that made him laugh.It was her assumption.That everyone had a price.That he’d abandon Elara for a better paycheck, a seat closer to the throne, or a night tangled in the sheets with her.Pathetic.Preston leaned back in the

The morning sun filtered through the tall windows of Killain’s mansion, painting golden streaks across the marble floor. Elara sat at the edge of the kitchen island, sipping coffee and ignoring the man across from her like last night hadn’t happened at all.No mention of the rooftop dinner.No mention of the bracelet.No lingering looks. No heat.Just cool silence and the clink of porcelain.Killain’s jaw was clenched tight as he scrolled through his phone, pretending not to notice her ignorance. But Elara didn’t miss the way his fingers stilled every time she moved. He was watching her—quietly simmering, trying to figure her out.Good.Let him stew.She wasn’t going to fall for that charming act of his. Last night had been theatre. A stage. And she’d played her role well.Suddenly, the sound of her notification broke through the silence. She picked it up, unlocking it.A message. From a name she didn’t expect.Beckett Industries.She arched an eyebrow.“What’s that?” Killain asked ca

The engine purred softly in the background, but Killian’s fingers were drumming on the steering wheel with increasing impatience. Elara had said she'd just be a moment. "I'll meet you at the car.” She'd given him that gentle, commanding look that somehow managed to both charm and challenge him at once.But it had been over fifteen minutes.Too long.And Killian Hayes never ignored his instincts. Especially not when they whispered warnings into his ear like ghosts.This was Ivy’s building.He locked down at the watch on his wrist which probably cost more than most people houses: 17 minutes, 42 seconds. His jaw clenched.He opened the door and stepped out of the car.The air was calm but tension danced in it like static before a storm. He buttoned his coat as he crossed the pavement and slipped through the front doors like a shadow, eyes scanning the corridors. A janitor passed by and Killian stopped him with a sharp, controlled smile.“The restroom?”“Second hallway to your right, sir.

“I’m going back home, Killian.”The words left Elara’s mouth with more weight than she had expected. She stood in the hallway of Killian’s mansion, a place too pristine, too polished, to feel like anything more than a cold chessboard. He had just stepped out of his study, sleeves rolled to his elbows, tie loosened, and eyes already narrowed, like he’d sensed a storm brewing.He froze mid-step. “What?”“You heard me,” she said, brushing past him and descending the stairs with slow, deliberate movements with her suitcase rolling behind her. “I’m leaving. Tonight.”“You are staying here because you wanted to be safe. That it wasn’t smart to be alone in Ivy’s city and this new threat— whoever thy may be,” he replied, his voice tight, clipped, and edged with restrained anger. “Now suddenly, you’re fine? Alone in that big house?”At the base of the stairs, she turned to face him. Her chin lifted, her gaze unreadable. “I said I didn’t want to be left unguarded in enemy territory. I never sa