Semua Bab Wounded Rose of Garden Metro: Bab 41 - Bab 50

The ballroom of the Roseview Hotel glittered with the kind of opulence only Garden Metro’s elite could afford — chandeliers dripping with crystal, gold leaf curling around the walls, waiters gliding silently with trays of champagne.Elara wasn’t here to mingle. She was here to be seen.Her gown was black silk, slit high at the side, her hair pinned in a sleek twist. To the untrained eye, she was another elegant young woman trying to climb the city’s social ladder. But to the right set of eyes — the set she wanted — her presence was a calculated statement: I’m not hiding.Marcus had warned her this gala was dangerous ground. Cassidy would be here, surrounded by business leaders, politicians, and the kind of journalists who could twist a rumor into a career-killing headline.Which was exactly why Elara wanted to walk right into it.Damien’s voice crackled softly in her earpiece as she accepted a flute of champagne from a passing waiter.“Target sighted. Cassidy just entered with Vincent

Cassidy had always known that guns and knives were crude tools. They were the hammers you used when the real work was done with scalpels — and her scalpels were the men and women in suits who owed her favors.The morning after her failed hit on Elara, Cassidy sat in her penthouse office, a space lined with glass walls that made the city feel like her personal chessboard. She was in silk, barefoot, coffee cooling on the desk beside her as she made her first call.“Councilman Harris,” she said when the line picked up, her tone a silk glove hiding brass knuckles. “We need to talk about an imminent threat to Garden Metro’s economic stability.”By the time the call ended, Harris had agreed to push an “emergency review” of all commercial licenses in the South District — Vincent’s territory. Cassidy didn’t need to mention Elara by name. The chain reaction was predictable: an audit would hit Vincent’s operations, and Elara’s name would get caught in the filings.Cassidy hung up, tapping her n

The article spread like wildfire across Garden Metro before dawn, flooding social media feeds and gossip circles. By breakfast, Elara’s phone was already buzzing with thinly veiled inquiries from acquaintances she had only just met at the Santori reception.Some messages were polite but cautious — “Hope you’re doing alright, Elara, strange things being said.” Others were sharper, blunt: “Are you involved with fugitives? Need to know before moving forward.”The speed of it chilled her. The whispers had traveled faster than bullets.Damien slammed a laptop shut on the dining table, his jaw tight. “This was no coincidence. They didn’t just catch you in a bad angle — they set this up.”Lena paced, arms crossed. “I told you. Marla Vance’s fingerprints are all over this. The tone, the phrasing, the way it pushes innuendo without outright stating facts. Classic poison gossip.”Elara sat still, sipping her tea slowly though her stomach churned. “Can we trace the origin?”Damien exhaled hard,

The Rosemont Hall glittered that night, chandeliers bathing the grand ballroom in golden light. The city’s elite had gathered for the annual Foundation Gala — a showcase of Garden Metro’s most powerful families and philanthropists. To Vincent, it was a battlefield no less dangerous than the streets. To Elara, it felt like walking into Cassidy’s den.Elara’s dress was understated compared to the jeweled gowns around her — sleek black with a subtle silver trim. Lena had insisted simplicity was her strength; it let her stand apart without seeming desperate to belong. But as the doors opened and eyes turned, Elara felt the weight of a thousand silent judgments.“They’re waiting for you to stumble,” Lena whispered from her side. “Don’t give them the satisfaction.”Vincent wasn’t far behind, his presence a silent shield, though he kept his distance — appearances mattered tonight.Cassidy made her entrance minutes later, dazzling in crimson silk, dripping in diamonds that caught the chandeli

The car ride to the police station felt longer than it should have. Garden Metro’s skyline blurred past the tinted windows, but Elara barely saw it. Her palms were clammy, and her heart thudded with a rhythm she couldn’t calm.She had been inside plenty of cold, sterile rooms during her school years — counselor’s offices, principal’s rooms — places where her side of the story never mattered. Today felt like an echo of those humiliations. Only this time, it was louder, sharper, more dangerous.Vincent sat beside her, silent but steady, his presence a pillar she could lean on. Damien was already ahead of them, arranging things quietly. Lena had squeezed her hand until the very last second, whispering reminders that Elara could hold her own.Still, when the car pulled to a stop in front of the looming police building, Elara’s breath caught. A crowd had gathered — reporters, opportunistic bloggers, even curious onlookers. Cameras flashed as soon as she stepped out, and microphones shoved