They controlled everything.
Funding.
Expansion.
His future.
“Stay close,” Julian whispered to Isabella, straightening his jacket as flashes from cameras lit up the entrance.
“If I get this right, we’re untouchable.”
The double doors opened.
Silence spread through the ballroom like a ripple.
Security stepped aside.
Staff lowered their heads.
Even the musicians stopped.
And then—
She walked in.
Not rushed.
Not dramatic.
Precise.
Controlled.
Unmistakable.
Elara.
But not the Elara he thought he knew.
Her hair was styled flawlessly.
Her dress—custom couture—flowed like liquid gold under the lights.
Every step she took commanded the room without effort.
The woman he had called “too simple”…
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