Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 21 - Chapitre 30

Six months had passed since I took back control of the Marlowe Group, and sometimes I still found it difficult to believe how much my life had changed in that time. There was a period when I could not imagine waking up without Victor beside me, when I had genuinely believed that loving him was part of my identity itself. I had planned my entire future around him, and when he betrayed me, I thought my life had effectively ended. Now I understood that losing him had actually been the beginning of my life, not the end of it.I sat behind my desk, looking through the glass windows of my office at the city stretched out below. The same city that had once made me feel so small looked entirely different to me now. I had changed. I was no longer afraid of making decisions on my own, and I no longer waited for someone else to tell me that I was good enough. I had learned to trust myself.A soft knock came at the door. “Come in,” I said.Nora entered with a folder tucked under her arm. “You hav

I stared through the window at the man standing across the street. He looked calm, almost too calm for someone just standing there in plain sight. Beside me, my mother was trembling.“You know him,” I said.She nodded slowly. “His name is Michael Stone.”“Who was he to my father?”“He was his closest friend.”I looked at the man again, trying to place him in any memory I had of my father’s life. “But you said he died twenty years ago.”“I believed he did,” my mother whispered.Adrian moved toward the window, his body tensing. “Stay away from it,” he warned.“Why?” I asked.“Because we do not know why he is here.”As if he had heard us, Michael suddenly looked directly toward our window. My heart began beating faster.“He knows we are watching him,” I said.Adrian stepped back from the glass. “Then we need to leave.”My mother shook her head firmly. “No.”Adrian turned to her, confused. “What?”“He came because he wants Elena to know something.”“How do you know that?”“Because Michael

The old Marlowe house looked exactly as I remembered it. The broken gate still hung from one side of the fence, and the windows were covered with dust. It was the house where I had spent some of the happiest years of my childhood, before my father’s death changed everything.Now I stood outside it with Adrian beside me, wondering whether the man I had mourned for years was truly alive.“Are you ready?” Adrian asked.I looked at him. “No.”He took my hand. “Then you do not have to pretend that you are.”I squeezed his fingers. “I am scared.”“I know.”“What if he is really there?”“Then you will finally have the answers you deserve.”“And what if he is not?”“Then we keep searching.”His calmness gave me courage, and together we entered the house. The front door opened with a loud creak, and dust covered the furniture, though everything was still exactly where I remembered it. I walked slowly through the living room, and I could almost hear my younger self laughing somewhere in the cor

I barely slept that night. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw my grandfather’s face on the screen, his voice remaining in my mind, calm and confident, as though he already knew what I would do before I had even made my decision.He wanted me to come to the old Marlowe estate. He wanted me to face him. More than anything, he wanted me to believe that I belonged to him. But I knew better than that.I was not my grandfather’s creation. I was not my father’s mistake. I was not Victor’s abandoned fiancée. I was Elena. I had survived everything they had thrown at me, and I was not going to let anyone else decide who I would become.By morning, Adrian was waiting for me in the living room.“You did not sleep,” he said.“Neither did you.”He smiled. “I was making sure you did not sneak out without me.”I laughed softly. “I would never do that.”He looked at me knowingly. “You are thinking about going alone.”“I was.”“I knew it.”I sat beside him. “I am afraid.”He took my hand. “You can be a

I could not stop looking at the photograph. The woman standing beside my grandfather was someone I had known for most of my life. Her name was Margaret Stone, and she had been my grandmother’s closest friend.When I was a child, Margaret had always treated me with kindness. She brought me gifts on my birthdays, attended family celebrations, and comforted me after my mother’s disappearance. I had trusted her because my grandmother trusted her. Now I was looking at her differently.“Are you certain?” I asked my father.“Yes.”“How long have you known?”“I suspected her involvement years ago, but I did not have enough evidence to accuse her.”My mother looked at me. “She was always around the family.”I swallowed hard. “That is what makes this difficult.”Adrian took my hand. “You do not have to deal with this alone.”I looked at him. “I know.”My father placed another document on the table. “Margaret was involved in moving money for your grandfather. She helped him hide several accounts