While Seb was out scouring the city for a ghost, Elara was busy building her kingdom within the walls of the Creed mansion.
She sat in the center of the grand hall, surrounded by plush toys, playing with little Seren. To any outsider, it looked like a picture of dostic bliss, but Elara’s eyes weren’t on the child, they were scanning the expensive crown molding and the antique furniture.
I belong here, she thought, her fingers absentmindedly stroking a velvet cushion. And it’s ti everyone knew it.
She had a plan. Being the "secret" woman was a role she was tired of playing. She needed to convince Seb that, for the sake of the baby she was carrying, and for Seren’s stability, she needed to move in permanently. No more separate apartnts. No more hiding in the shadows of Amara’s mory.
"Don’t worry, Seren," Elara whispered, a sharp, cold smile touching her lips as she adjusted the girl’s hair. "Everything is going to change soon. Your father just needs a little push to realize that Amara isn’t coming back."
She was already ntally drafting the announcent. The upcoming Pedro gala was the perfect stage. If she could just get Seb to walk her through those doors as his wife, the Verenza elite would have no choice but to acknowledge her. She didn’t care about the Pedro heiress; she cared about the Creed na, and she was going to wear it like a trophy.
The heavy oak doors slamd shut, but it wasn’t the sound of Seb’s return that filled the hall it was the sharp, frantic clicking of Madam Creed’s heels. She marched straight toward Elara, her face set in a cold, calculating mask of ambition.
"Sign these," Madam Creed commanded, thrusting a stack of legal docunts onto the coffee table. "Now."
Elara looked down, her heart dropping into her stomach. "Divorce papers? Madam, what is this?"
"Only single n or those of a certain status are being favored for the Pedro gala," his mother snapped, her eyes gleaming with greed. "I will not have you weighing Seb down when the French heiress is within reach. Sign them. Please do, for the sake of this family’s future."
"I am not going to do that!" Elara cried, clutching her stomach protectively. "I’m pregnant with Seb’s baby! You can’t just discard !"
Madam Creed waved a hand dismissively, as if the pregnancy were a minor inconvenience. "Anyone can have a baby, Elara. Don’t be dramatic. As long as you sign the papers and leave quietly, our family won’t mistreat you. We’ll provide a small allowance. But you will not be the Mrs. Creed that walks into that gala."
"Madam, help! Seb!" Elara scread, her voice echoing off the high ceilings as Madam Creed grabbed her wrist, trying to force the pen into her hand. The struggle turned physical, the elder woman’s grip like iron. "Seb and I are truly in love! You can’t do this!"
"Love? Don’t be tedious," Madam Creed hissed, leaning in close. "I still need to pick out a gift for the Pedro heiress and find a dress that screams ’Old Money.’ I don’t have ti for your hysterics. Sign it, quick!"
"Help! Soone help !" Elara sobbed, her mask of the perfect savior finally shattering into a ss of raw terror.
"Now, hurry up!" Madam Creed yelled, her voice booming through the mansion. "Stop wasting my ti with these tears. You were a tool to get rid of Amara, and now that tool is dull. Sign!"
The chaos in the hall reached a fever pitch just as the front door creaked open. Seren, trembling and teary-eyed, rushed to her father, clinging to his navy blue trousers.
"Daddy! Please talk to Grandma," Seren sobbed, her small voice echoing the heartbreak of the house. "I don’t want you and Mom to divorce!"
Seb froze, his gaze shifting from his crying daughter to the sight of his mother hovering over a disheveled, weeping Elara. The legal papers were scattered on the floor like fallen leaves.
"Seb, please... I don’t want a divorce," Elara gasped, looking up at him with wide, desperate eyes, hoping her "savior" would finally take her side.
Seb’s face was a mask of exhaustion and irritation. He looked at his mother, whose hand was still poised as if ready to strike. "Mom, stop making a scene," he said, his voice dangerously low. "I’m not going to that party. I have no interest in eting so mysterious heiress."
Madam Creed stood tall, smoothing her silk dress with practiced elegance, completely unfazed by the emotional wreckage around her.
"That’s not up to you, Sebastien," she lectured, her voice sharp enough to cut glass. "I worked tirelessly, pulling every string I have in Verenza to get an invitation for you. The Pedro heiress never shows her face in public. She is a ghost, a myth, and the key to our family’s survival. You have to take this chance."
She stepped over the divorce papers, looking down at Elara with pure disdain. "You want to find Amara? You want to ’fix’ things? Then gain the power that cos with the Pedro na. Otherwise, you’re just a man chasing a shadow while your empire crumbles."
Seb looked from his mother’s cold ambition to Elara’s desperate clinging. He felt trapped, the walls of the Creed mansion closing in on him.
Seb didn’t stop to listen to his mother’s lectures. "Creed Tech is doing ten tis better than it was when I took over," he threw back over his shoulder, his voice cold and hollow. "I already have deals in place to expand to the south and east. We don’t need a ’mythical’ heiress to survive."
As he walked away, his mother watched him with a calculating glint in her eyes. "Shhh..." she whispered to herself, ignoring his bravado. "Amara is gone. But now, how do I make you forget her? What am I supposed to do? I have to make him see."
Upstairs, the heavy silence of the master bedroom offered Seb no peace. He sat on the edge of the bed, the gold-leafed fras of his photos with Amara catching the dim light. In the pictures, she was laughing, her eyes bright with a trust he had systematically destroyed.
He traced the glass over her face, the weight of his "success" feeling like lead in his chest.
The door creaked open. Elara stood there, her eyes red-rimd, her usual polished appearance replaced by the look of a woman who had just realized her throne was made of sand.
"Seb," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Would you really let go? After everything? After the baby?"
Seb didn’t look up from the photo of Amara. The silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.
"I don’t want to talk about this," Seb said, his voice flat and dismissive as he turned his back on Elara. "We’ll talk when Amara cos back."
Elara stood frozen in the doorway, a cold chill running down her spine. Amara knows you cheated, she thought bitterly, her eyes narrowing as she watched him on the bed. She lost her baby because of you. She’s out there sowhere, broken into a million pieces. How could she possibly co back to this?
But she didn’t say it out loud. Instead, she softened her voice to that manipulative, gentle tone she had perfected. "Seb, I’ll go put Seren to bed. The poor thing thought we were getting divorced and cried so hard. She needs her mother."
Seb didn’t even look at her; he just gave a stiff, distracted nod.
The mont the door clicked shut behind Elara, Seb lunged for his phone. His thumb hovered over Amara’s contact, the sa one he had called a hundred tis in the last forty-eight hours. He prayed she had finally unblocked him, that the silence was just a glitch.
"The number you have dialed is currently unavailable. Please..."
The robotic voice felt like a slap. "Amara, where are you?" he whispered, his grip tightening until his knuckles turned white. "Are you really leaving ?"
Suddenly, a sharp, cold realization struck him. He wasn’t just a husband; he was the CEO of a tech corporation. He had eyes everywhere. "The security caras," he muttered to the empty room. "If I check the footage from the day she left... I’ll know if she found sothing. I’ll know exactly what she saw."
He strode over to his desk and flipped open his laptop, the blue light reflecting in his desperate eyes. His heart hamred against his ribs as he logged into the mansion’s internal server. He scrolled back to the date of Amara’s disappearance.
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