Chapter One: Were You with Her Last Night?
Elara’s POV
Nine a.m., at BR’s new product launch.
Only ten seconds remained on the countdown displayed across the giant screen at center stage.
Standing beside the exhibition platform, I glanced at my watch and pushed my in-ear monitor more firmly into place.
Two years ago, I had given up everything back home and gone to Norway to rescue this subsidiary from the brink of bankruptcy. The board had rejected my first proposal. Our supply chain had collapsed without warning. Then, three weeks ago, a competitor had launched a similar product ahead of us.
I had stumbled into practically every possible pitfall on the way here, but somehow, I had dragged us across the finish line.
I swept my gaze across the audience. Reporters, distributors, investors—everyone was present.
Everyone except the person whose name occupied the empty seat in the center.
Austin Thorne.
I had sent him the time and address last night. I had typed, Can you come? at the end, only to delete it. In the end, I had left him with a single sentence.
I saved you a seat.
He had not replied, but I had not allowed anyone to remove his nameplate.
“Elara, get ready,” Molly said through my earpiece.
I looked away and tightened my grip on the presentation remote.
The countdown reached zero. The lights went out, and a beam of cool white light fell over me.
I walked onto the stage.
“Welcome, everyone, to BR’s annual new product launch.”
Someone in the front row abruptly rose to her feet.
“Ms. Elara, do you have any response to the news about Mr. Austin that began trending this morning?”
The room fell silent for a moment.
Instead of looking at the reporter, I glanced toward Molly in the wings.
Her face had gone pale. One hand was pressed over her phone as she gave me the slightest shake of her head.
The question had not been approved by us.
That told me everything I needed to know.
The female reporter seized the opportunity to press further. “Mr. Austin was photographed entering a hotel with a young woman last night. Neither of them left until this morning. Were you aware that your husband was having an affair?”
“You’ve been living abroad for two years. Does that mean your marriage has been over in all but name for some time?”
The venue erupted.
Camera flashes went off one after another.
My chest tightened sharply. Before going to sleep last night, I had checked my phone one last time, wondering if he had simply been too busy to reply.
I had never expected...
This was not the time to think about that.
I raised a hand, signaling the host not to intervene.
“Would you repeat your name and the media outlet you represent?”
The reporter hesitated before giving me both.
I nodded. “Excellent. Molly, write that down.”
The room went quiet again.
The reporter frowned. “Are you threatening the press?”
“No.” I smiled. “I simply make a habit of keeping a record of who should be held accountable for what they say.”
Her expression shifted.
“As for my marriage, if the photographs are real, I’ll deal with my husband. If the report is false, I’ll deal with whoever fabricated it.”
Several people in the audience drew in sharp breaths.
“But either way, an entertainment headline does not get to decide whether BR’s new product is worth buying.”
I turned and gestured toward the screen behind me.
“You all took the time to come here today because you wanted to see the product. Anyone interested in seeing my divorce papers may contact my assistant. If I ever sign them, I might consider giving you an exclusive.”
A few people in the audience failed to suppress their laughter. The atmosphere, which had been on the verge of spiraling out of control, was forcibly pulled back on track.
I gave no one another chance to ask a question.
“Now, let’s continue with the launch.”
Forty minutes later, the final set of product data was released. Online presales had reached one hundred and thirty-seven percent of our target.
Only when I stepped off the stage did I realize that my palms were covered in cold sweat.
Molly hurried over and handed me her phone.
“The photos are everywhere.”
I took the phone.
In a hotel corridor, Austin had one arm around a blonde woman’s waist. The angle was perfect, the lighting was perfect, and even the brand of his watch was clearly visible.
I stared at the hand around her waist and unconsciously enlarged the image with my thumb.
He was still wearing his wedding ring.
I wished I had not been able to see it so clearly.
“It’s too clear.”
Molly froze. “What is?”
“Austin’s people would never let paparazzi get close enough to take a photo like this.”
I examined it again.
Maybe the angle was misleading. Maybe there was more to the story.
The thought came so quickly that even I was ashamed of myself.
But Austin’s face was turned slightly to one side, as though he had deliberately given the camera an angle that made him easy to identify.
In three months, the Richter Group would choose its next CEO.
The sales figures, publicity, and market response from today’s launch were the most important cards in my hand.
I could lose because of the product. I could lose to the market.
But I could not lose because of a farce someone had deliberately staged.
I saved the photograph.
Whether Austin had released it or not, I wanted to hear the truth from his own mouth.
“Find the first outlet that published the story, trace the source of the photographs, and identify who slipped that reporter into the event at the last minute.” I handed the phone back to Molly. “Also, release all data from the launch as scheduled. I don’t want any of our public relations materials revolving around Austin.”
I picked up my coat.
“Find out where Austin is.”
“You’re going to confront him?”
“No.”
I fastened the final button and looked at my reflection in the glass doors.
“I’m going to settle the score.”
The doorbell at Amman Apartments rang twice.
Austin opened the door in a casual shirt with the collar undone, as though he had only just gotten out of bed.
We had not seen each other in two years, yet he did not look surprised to find me there.
“You’re twelve minutes earlier than I expected.”
“You knew I would come?”
I had arrived with a thousand things to say, but at the sight of his face, I looked past him first.
There was no one else inside.
The tension that had held my shoulders rigid throughout the drive eased slightly without my permission.
“You saw the news?” he asked.
“I did.” I stepped inside, my voice lower than it had been onstage. “Austin, I want an explanation.”
The moment the words left my mouth, a woman’s soft voice drifted from the bedroom.
“Darling, who is it?”
A second later, a blonde woman emerged wrapped in a bath towel.
Lucy.
The woman from the photographs.
Far from trying to hide when she saw me, she smiled and linked her arm through Austin’s.
“Oh, it’s Elara. Would you like some coffee? Austin knows I like Brazilian beans, so he had them flown in especially for me.”
I glanced at the coffee table.
The coffee machine sitting there was the one I had put in storage two years ago because I thought it took up too much space.
Suddenly, I smiled.
“If you like it, take it with you.”
Lucy’s smile stiffened.
“What?”
“The coffee beans, the coffee machine, and the towel you’re wearing.” I looked directly at her. “This apartment was gifted to me under a premarital agreement. I am the legal owner. I don’t want anything you’ve used today.”
Lucy’s face drained of color, and she instinctively turned toward Austin.
Leaning against the doorframe, Austin actually laughed.
“Elara.”
The moment he said my name, Lucy edged closer to him, as if waiting for him to defend her.
I took out my phone and called the property management office.
“Come up in ten minutes and change the locks. From now on, no one who is not an owner may stay here without my authorization.”
Lucy finally lost control of her expression. “What gives you the right—”
“The deed.”
I ended the call and looked up at her.
“If you need a second reason, I can have my lawyer explain what it means to unlawfully occupy a private residence.”
She was rendered speechless. All she could do was tug at Austin’s arm, her voice turning tearful.
“Darling, I don’t think she likes me...”
How ridiculous.
Who would like a woman who had inserted herself into their marriage?
Austin’s eyes settled on me and narrowed slightly.
“You’re throwing someone out right in front of me?”
I looked at him. “Do you want her to stay?”
I had not hesitated once while speaking to Lucy. Yet after asking him that question, I still waited.
All he had to do was say it was not what it looked like, and I could swallow the harsher words waiting on my tongue.
He did not answer immediately.
“Or the two of you can get out together.” I put my car keys on the table. “Don’t contaminate my home.”
Austin’s gaze moved from the keys to my face. The indolence in his eyes faded.
“Didn’t you hear her?” he said to Lucy. “She told you to get out.”
Lucy froze. Then, biting her lip, she reluctantly released his arm.
Before leaving, she turned to look at me one last time, still unwilling to give up.
I smiled at her. “Take care. And don’t forget the coffee beans.”
The door closed behind her.
Only Austin and I remained in the living room.
I picked up my phone and held the photograph out to him.
“Were you with her last night?”
He looked up at me. “You’ve already seen the pictures, haven’t you?”
“Pictures are pictures.” My grip tightened around the phone. “I want to hear it from you.”
Austin stared at me for several seconds. Then a mocking smile suddenly curled his lips.
“You left the country without warning two years ago. I assumed you wouldn’t care which woman I was with.”
His gaze dropped to me.
I did not look away.
“I care,” I said coldly.
Something changed in his eyes.
For one fleeting moment, I thought he might reach for me. But in the next second, his attention shifted to my phone.
“Because she embarrassed you at the product launch?”
The faint spark of hope that had only just appeared inside me went still.
I did not answer immediately.
He gave a quiet laugh and stepped back toward the coffee table.
“Relax. Your launch wasn’t ruined.”
“So you watched the livestream?”
“Presales were good.”
He had watched it. He had seen me standing on that stage.
Yet his eyes returned to the photograph, as if we were discussing nothing more than a public relations report.
I put my phone away.
“With an angle like that, there is no way your security team failed to notice the photographer. Why did the story come out today of all days?”
“You think I arranged it?”
“No one else could have.”
His smile disappeared.
Just then, my phone rang.
My father’s name appeared on the screen.
Keeping my eyes on Austin, I answered. My father spoke only one sentence, the command weighted with barely suppressed fury.
“Bring Austin back to Lipton Manor immediately.”
