Chapter 7
Damien lost patience with Lana and Lila, “What do I mean? Don’t you know perfectly well? Don’t play dumb. You wanted to use me
to climb up-you succeeded. Now it’s over, you can leave.”
“I’ve given you what you wanted. You can get lost now.”
“I don’t want to see either of you again. I don’t want Elara to be unhappy.”
Lana was stunned. She stood up in disbelief, looking at Damien, “Damien, what are you saying? You said you loved us.”
“You’ve already divorced Elara. Why are you driving us out now?”
“Did Elara say something to you? Did she threaten you with something?”
Before she could finish, a slap stung Lana’s face.
Damien slowly rubbed his wrist, his tone emotionless.
“I told you to get lost. Don’t you understand?”
“You’re nothing but temporary distractions-cheap thrills for someone bored. Do you really think you’re special?”
Then Damien gestured to the bodyguards behind him, who immediately stepped forward, grabbed the sisters, and threw them out of the manor gates.
Lana and Lila screamed like madwomen, pounding on the door, “Damien, this must be a misunderstanding! Let us explain!
Please don’t abandon us!”
Damien frowned in annoyance.
“Throw out all their belongings,” he commanded. “Then restore the bedroom to its original state.”
Unfortunately, some things were unique and irreplaceable.
Looking at the empty house, Damien felt anxious and ordered his bodyguard: “Go find me a dog.”
The bodyguard looked confused. Damien gritted his teeth, “I said find me a dog! Don’t you understand?”
“One just like the little dog Elara used to have-same breed, same styling. I don’t care how much it costs-go do it right now.”
The bodyguard nodded and hurried away.
Just then, the butler approached Damien with an invitation.
“Sir, this wedding invitation just arrived, from Thorne of the Black family.”
Damien frowned as he took it, “The San Francisco billionaire, Thorne Black?”
Damien opened it without thinking-until his eyes fixed on the bride’s name.
His fingers trembled as he confirmed it repeatedly.
“Elara.”
“This was sent by the Black family?”
The butler nodded, “Yes.”
Damien nervously swallowed, his face pale.
“Why would the bride be Elara? Could it be someone with the same name?”
The butler was also confused. He frowned and guessed: “It shouldn’t be the same person. I heard that Black values this bride very
much.”
“The madam’s background…”
Hearing the butler’s words, Damien breathed a sigh of relief.
“Right, it can’t be Elara.”
“The Black family are San Francisco billionaires. It couldn’t be my Elara. Someone like her couldn’t marry into the Black family.”
Damien threw the invitation back. “Send a gift, something appropriate. This is the Black family-we need to show respect.”
Meanwhile, I caressed the invitation in my hands while Thorne busied himself beside me, confirming final wedding details.
My thoughts returned to childhood.
When the Black family left New York, I was only six years old.
I chased after their car, crying, “Thorne! Don’t go!”
Thorne jumped out of the car and ran to me, holding me in his arms.
“Be good, Elara. I’ll come back for you, I promise.”
That same year, my father’s betrayal shattered everything.
He secretly kept twin mistresses.
After that, he barely came home anymore.
He forced my mother to divorce and threw us both out.
That day, we became the laughingstock of the entire Upper East Side.
My mother had once defied my grandparents’ opposition, willing to completely sever ties with her family to marry my father-a merchant of much lower status than her.
However, she was ultimately abandoned by my father, not only thrown out of the house, but even her former family would no longer accept her.
My mother wandered with me, and we had almost no support. Our days were exceptionally difficult.
