The Queen’s Vengeance

The silence that filled the Thorne's dining room was nothing compared to the hurt Elara felt inside her heart as she sat at the long Mahogany table. The table today was set for two. 

Elara wore her usual simple grey silk dress that blended with the shadows of the estate. She adjusted a simple arrangement of white lilies for the sixth time. Making sure that the flowers were arranged beautifully in its vase.

The salmon, en croute Damien's favorite dish, that she had paid to learn and make perfectly through many hours of practice waited in the hot oven, she had timed it to be served the moment the front door opened. 

She checked her phone again for the hundredth time. No calls, no messages. She looked at the beautiful watch Damien had given her for their second anniversary. It has been very costly but without any sentiment connected to it. It was eleven forty seven p.m. The anniversary was almost already over, she thought. 

The sound of someone coming from the front door finally broke through the silence. Elara's breath caught in her chest, and she breath a sigh of relief. She rushed to her feet, arranging her dress. 

“Damien”

The huge door opened to show not Damien, but her mother-in-law. Mrs. Eleanor Thorne entered into the dining room wearing a sable shawl that was very costly even more than Elara's yearly salary. Her expression fixed in disapproval as always, 

“Still waiting, are we?” Mrs Thorne said not waiting for a reply. She circled the table slowly looking at everything Elara had done with disdain.

“Really, Elara, three years and you still haven't learned to note your husband's schedule. Waiting up for him, like a country girl, is hardly becoming of a Thorne's wife.” 

Elara managed a weak smile. “Good evening, Mrs. Thorne. I wasn't waiting, exactly. I was just…preparing. I thought a small private dinner might be appropriate for the occasion.” 

“A small dinner? Well, the Thorne family doesn't do “small”. Our anniversaries are marked by how many people of influence that are in attendance not intimacy. And frankly, this dining room is not presentable for a proper gathering.” 

She pointed at the table settings. “The Thorne table requires crystal and silver used for the State Dinner service. These lilies are plain. They look like they are coming from a local market, not a commissioned florist.”

“I chose them myself, they’re his favorite,” Elara said softly.

“That is exactly the problem,” Mrs. Thorne replied. “You choose based on sentiment, Elara. We choose based on status. The two rarely compliment each other.”

She tapped sharply on the salmon platter dome. “And this? Home-cooked? Honestly, Elara, I thought I hired a proper chef for this house.”

“You know Damien has a sensitive stomach especially when under pressure. You should be managing the house, not experimenting in the kitchen.”

“I know it’s his favorite dish, Mrs. Thorne. I wanted it to be—”

“That is not important. We have an image to maintain. A Thorne gathering requires grace, elegance, and pedigree, not domestic attempts.”

“Your attempts at being domestic are quite frankly, rather fake.” Mrs. Thorne gave a fake smile. "Do stop trying to play the homely wife, dear. It doesn't suit your status.”

Elara's shoulders slumped. “I understand, Mrs. Thorne. I apologize. I will clear everything away immediately.”

“See that you do that and be quiet about it, the noise your making with your movements is quite loud. Now,” Mrs. Thorne, sat in a nearby chair. “Bring me some strong tea, and make sure it's not that weak herbal nonsense that you drink. I need a proper Earl grey steeped for exactly three minutes.” 

Elara rushed to the kitchen to boil water. Then she returned a few minutes later, placing the hot cup of tea before Mrs. Thorne. The woman didn't look up she was engrossed with her tablet

“There you are now. Where was I? Oh, yes the reason I came over to this house,” Mrs. Thorne said, her voice filled with false concern.

“ I wanted to ensure that you didn't waste too much time tonight. Damien is doing such important work.” 

“You know, the Thorne family has to manage appearance and Damien, dear boy, has been under a lot of pressure with that new acquisition. He needs support, not distraction, a calm environment.” She tapped on the screen, turning the tablet towards Elara. 

The image of Damien smiling was on the screen, his arms wrapped around the waist of another woman who was entirely the opposite of Elara. She was leaning against Damien, wearing a flowing white dress. Looking like an angel. 

The headline was worse than the photo. SERPHINA’S TRIUMPHANT RETURN: “White moonlight celebrates with loyal friend, CEO Damien Thorne, at exclusive Oceanic Retreat.” 

Elara's world came crashing. This was not a deadline or a business trip. Damien was out on his wedding anniversary, celebrating with the woman he said was his “childhood friend”. The one he truly loved. 

“Look at that, Elara,” Mrs. Thorne said, her voice filled with cruel satisfaction. “Isn't she lovely? Seraphina is back, and Damien knows where his duty lies, doesn't he?”

“He's taking care of a truly delicate, high-status friend, rather than sitting down here with a woman who can't even run the house properly. A woman who knows how to handle herself in public, unlike some Seraphina is a true asset to any man's career.”

With desperation and shaking hands, Elara brought out her phone, struggling to unlock the screen. She called Damien's number. It rang two times. 

“Damien”, she whispered, her voice low over the phone line. “Damien, it's past midnight. You forgot our…” 

“I'm busy now, Elara,” his voice cold and filled with impatience. “I'm dealing with something important right now.”

Elara's voice cracked. “But…I saw the picture of Seraphina…are you at the retreat?”

“Elara that is none of your business,” he said, his voice hard. “And frankly, I can't deal with your drama right now. Seraphina needs my full attention. Right now, she's having a difficult time with jetlag.”

“I will not allow your insecurities to spoil this for her, we can discuss the allowance tomorrow. Don't call this line again.” The line went dead. 

The phone fell from Elara's hands and broke on the polished marble floor. She stood in shock. The expensive phone, like her three years of devotion, was totally useless.

Mrs Thorne merely smiled into her tea cup