Chapter Four: What Am I Still Hoping For?
Elara’s POV
I pulled over and sat in the car, staring for a long time at my conversation with the lawyer on my phone.
The last message remained on the screen.
The truth was, even I did not know when I had started seriously considering divorce.
I had been secretly in love with Austin for ten years. I had never imagined I might actually marry him one day. So when our families arranged the marriage, it had felt like a dream.
But once I woke up, I realized something.
Marrying someone did not mean you could make him stay.
I closed my eyes.
Memories buried deep inside me surged to the surface against my will. It felt as though I had fallen into an icy lake, dragged steadily downward by weightlessness, freezing and unable to breathe.
Three years ago, I had married him with my heart full of joy. Less than six months into our marriage, he cheated on me.
Perhaps it had started even earlier.
Although I had spent the past two years abroad, photographs of him with other women kept appearing in my inbox from unknown senders.
Until today, I had believed he could no longer affect me. But when I saw him take another woman to the apartment he had given me before our wedding, I discovered that my heart could still ache.
Lucy was not the first, and she certainly would not be the last.
How ridiculous.
What was I still hoping for?
Just then, my phone vibrated.
I looked down.
Austin’s assistant had sent me a message.
“Mrs. Thorne, Mr. Thorne would like you to come to Thorne Group at three this afternoon to discuss the Bay Project.”
I stared at the words for two seconds.
The Bay Project was the test my father had set for me. It was also my most important bargaining chip in the fight for the right to inherit the company.
I did not hesitate.
“All right.”
I put down my phone and stepped on the accelerator.
No matter what became of this marriage, I had to secure control of Richter Group.
Three o’clock that afternoon.
Thorne Group.
The moment I entered the building, someone from reception came forward to greet me.
“Mrs. Thorne, Mr. Thorne is waiting for you.”
I nodded, then took the CEO’s private elevator directly to the top floor.
The office door was open. I pushed it wider and walked inside.
Austin stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows. The sleeves of his black shirt were rolled up to his elbows, and he held a cup of coffee in one hand.
Hearing me enter, he turned around.
“You’re here.”
“Yes.”
I placed the documents on his desk.
“Let’s get straight to the project.”
He did not move. Instead, he gestured toward the seat beside him.
“Coffee first? The Brazilian beans are excellent.”
I glanced over.
A set of manual coffee-brewing equipment sat on the table, along with some freshly ground beans.
My steps faltered.
Brazilian coffee.
That was Lucy’s favorite.
Apparently Austin brought her here often.
I looked away.
“No, thank you.”
“What’s wrong?” He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you like it?”
I sat down and opened the file.
“I prefer plain water. It’s clean.”
Silence hung between us for two seconds.
Then Austin laughed.
“I would have thought lemonade suited you better.”
I frowned. “Why?”
The smile at the corner of his mouth froze briefly.
The next moment, he suddenly bent down and leaned closer.
“Because you sound so sour, I assumed you’d just drunk a whole glass of it.”
The distance between us vanished. I caught the faint woody scent clinging to him.
I had no idea which woman had chosen the cologne for him, but my traitorous heart still skipped a beat.
I leaned back.
“Austin.”
“Yes?”
I looked at him, my expression serious.
“For the next three months, keep yourself under control. I have a bad temper, so don’t parade those women in front of me.”
“Once we’re divorced, you can strip naked and have sex with another woman right in front of me, and it still won’t have anything to do with me.”
The instant I finished speaking, something crashed outside the door.
Frowning, I turned toward the sound.
A second later, the office door flew open with a startled cry.
“What did you just say?”
A young woman stood in the doorway, her eyes wide.
It was Silvia Richter.
Austin’s younger sister.
She stared at me in disbelief, her voice nearly cracking. “Elara! How can you possibly have the nerve to bring up divorce?”
I froze, unable to understand what she meant.
Silvia strode into the office and pointed a finger at me.
“If my brother hadn’t covered up all those scandals for you, you would be—”
“Silvia,” Austin interrupted.
His voice turned cold.
“Get out.”
Silvia was clearly unwilling to let it go.
“Austin, after what she’s done, you’re still—”
“I said, get out,” he repeated, his voice frighteningly cold.
The office fell silent.
Silvia bit her lip and glared at me.
There was anger in her eyes, along with a sense of grievance I could not understand.
In the end, she turned and left.
The door closed again.
I looked at Austin. “What scandals was she talking about?”
Austin walked around the desk and sat opposite me, his tone indifferent.
“It was nothing.”
“She said you covered up scandals for me.”
“You misheard her.”
“Austin.” I stared at him. “Do you honestly expect me to believe that?”
He did not answer.
Instead, he pushed the documents toward me and tapped them lightly with one finger.
“Let’s discuss the project.”
I knew he did not want to talk about it, so I did not press him.
I had more important matters to deal with.
Over the next hour, we picked the entire project apart.
We went from investment ratios to risk allocation, from land costs to long-term operations, and from profit distribution to decision-making authority.
Neither of us gave an inch.
Every time I claimed one concession, he found a way to take something else back. When I reduced his share of the funding, he demanded greater operational authority. When I fought for control of the project, he raised the percentage of profits he wanted.
In the end, we still failed to reach an agreement.
Austin closed the file and looked at me with one eyebrow raised.
“If you want a share of my profits, you’ll have to show me what you’re willing to offer.”
My fingers tightened. I drew a deep breath.
“Richter will take only thirty percent of the total profit.”
That was my absolute limit.
Austin studied me in silence for a long time.
Then the corner of his mouth curved into something that was not quite a smile, and mockery flashed in his eyes.
“You were born an heiress, yet here you are doing a hired hand’s dirty work.”
My body stiffened.
He leaned back in his chair, speaking as casually as though the matter had nothing to do with him.
“Just like your mother.”
The words struck me like a blow to the chest.
My expression turned cold, inch by inch.
I could tolerate him mocking me. I could even accept him questioning my abilities.
But I would not tolerate him insulting my mother.
Especially not in such a dismissive tone.
My fingers slowly curled into fists.
“Say that again.”
He seemed to realize what he had done. His expression stiffened, and his lips parted slightly.
But I was already on my feet.
“Austin, you had better remember this.”
“I’m sitting here today as a representative of Richter Group, negotiating a project with you.”
“Not as your wife.”
“And certainly not as someone who will allow you to use my mother as the subject of your jokes.”
The office grew so quiet that the hum of the air conditioner was the only sound.
He looked at me. For the first time, there was no trace of amusement in his eyes. Instead, I saw an emotion I could not understand.
Just then, my phone rang.
It was an unfamiliar number.
I had no intention of answering, but it kept ringing over and over.
Frowning, I finally accepted the call. An anxious voice came from the other end.
“Hello, are you a relative of Lucas’s?”
My eyelid twitched.
“Yes.”
“Mr. Lucas was just involved in a car accident. He’s at the hospital now. Please come as quickly as you can.”
I barely heard anything after that.
Grabbing my bag, I hurried toward the door.
“Elara,” Austin called from behind me.
I did not look back.
It was only after the elevator doors closed that I realized my hands were still trembling.
Lucas!
Please be all right!
My car shot out of the underground garage.
At the third intersection, I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw a familiar black sedan following me.
I knew the license plate all too well.
It was Austin’s car.
My heart suddenly beat faster, and my fingers tightened around the steering wheel.
Why was he following me?
Could it be...?
