128 Unexpected Guests and Shifting Fortunes
128 Unexpected Guests and Shifting Fortunes
“Mr. Bellweather,” he greeted my grandfather with practiced charm, shaking his hand. “Mrs. Bellweather.” He presented my grandmother with an elegantly wrapped package. “Happy birthday.”
“Zachary Newman,” my grandmother said, “I don’t believe you’ve met my
granddaughter’s husband, Damien Thorne.”
The evening took an unexpected turn as Zachary Newman and Julian engaged in animated conversation about Al advancement. For once, I felt perfectly in my element, contributing insights that Mr. Newman acknowledged with approving nods.
Grandmother beamed with pride from across the table.
Damien shook his hand firmly. “The pleasure is mine. Your innovations have revolutionized multiple industries.”
Linda Shaw’s eyes widened. “You seem well–informed, Vivienne.”
“This changes the dynamics considerably,” Linda finally said. “If the Vances have Newman’s ear, not to mention continued connections to Damien despite the rumored
divorce…”
The waitstaff hurried to accommodate another guest, bringing an additional place setting. I tensed as Damien approached our section of the table.
“Both Newman and Thorne,” Linda mused, her earlier irritation transforming into calculation. “The Vances are certainly pulling out all stops tonight.”
The conversation shifted as dessert was served. Throughout the remainder of the evening, I was acutely aware of Damien beside me. He engaged seamlessly with both Julian and Mr. Newman, displaying the business acumen and charm that had built his empire. Yet every
few minutes, I felt his eyes on me.
“There’s more,” Michael added hesitantly. “Damien Thorne arrived shortly after.”
Across town at the Shaw residence, the mood was decidedly less festive.
The statement hung in the air, uncomfortable and challenging. For years, the Shaws had dismissed Elara as Victor Vance’s unremarkable daughter who’d made a fortunate marriage. Now, as news of Zachary Newman’s presence at the Bellweather dinner
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circulated, earlier assumptions were being rapidly reassessed.
“I should be.” Vivienne’s perfect lips curved into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Uncle Alistair was furious with Elara for making me miss the chance to meet him at a conference three years ago.”
“Or perhaps,” Vivienne suggested softly, “we’ve been underestimating Elara all along.”
Heat crept into my cheeks. For years, I’d downplayed my work around Damien, trying not to bore him with technical details he showed no interest in. Now here was Zachary Newman, a legend in our industry, praising that very work directly to my soon–to–be
ex–husband.
Grandmother’s eyes brightened. “Damien! What a lovely surprise.”
Vivienne set down her glass. “He’s not just rich,” she explained, her voice smooth as silk. “He pioneered the architectural framework that most advanced AI systems run on today. His algorithms form the backbone of everything from smart homes to military ́¿ defense systems.”
“What do you mean, Zachary Newman is at Clara Bellweather’s birthday dinner?” Linda Shaw demanded, her voice rising with each word.
“The very same.” Vivienne sipped her champagne delicately. “Newman rarely grants private audiences. Having him at a family birthday dinner…” She let the implication hang in the air.
“Julian,” he acknowledged coolly before turning to me. “Elara.”
“Who exactly is Zachary Newman?” asked one of the younger Shaws. “I mean, besides being rich.”
“Is that so?” Damien’s eyes never left my face.
“Markets respond to genuine innovation,” Mr. Newman replied. “Something your wife understands quite well.”
Linda stared at her. “Wait–that was Zachary Newman? The connection your uncle was so upset about?”
My father immediately stood to offer Damien a seat. I caught Julian’s barely concealed eye roll.
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“Then we need to recalibrate our approach,” Vivienne finished, her tone practical and measured. Beneath her composed exterior, a storm of emotions churned–particularly at the thought of Damien and Elara sharing an evening with someone of Newman’s
caliber.
Damien’s hand came to rest casually on the back of my chair. The gesture wasn’t intimate, yet it carried a distinct air of possessiveness. “Indeed,” he murmured. “Elara has many talents.”
The room fell silent. Every eye turned to Vivienne Dubois, who sat elegantly on the chaise lounge. Her expression remained carefully neutral, though her fingers tightened almost imperceptibly around her champagne flute.
Linda Shaw sank into a nearby chair. “Clara Bellweather must have more–influence than we thought. Or perhaps it’s Julian Croft’s doing. His company has been making
waves.”
“I apologize for arriving late,” Damien said smoothly: “Business matters delayed me.”
The messenger, a young associate named Michael who had been tasked with keeping tabs on the rival gathering, shifted uncomfortably. “It’s confirmed, ma’am. He arrived about an hour ago. Greeted Mrs. Bellweather like an old friend.”
Linda’s perfectly manicured nails dug into her palm. “That’s impossible. Zachary Newman doesn’t attend private functions. He barely appears at major industry events.”
Damien Thorne stood there, commanding attention without effort. His tall frame was perfectly outlined by his custom Italian suit, his presence magnetic as always. My heart performed its usual traitorous flutter before I forced it to steady.
“Still showing off,” Julian muttered beside me.
The atmosphere shifted suddenly. Whispers rippled through the gathering. All eyes
turned toward the entrance.
When Grandmother opened her gifts, Damien’s proved to be an antique jewelry box containing a rare sapphire pendant that matched her eyes. The gesture drew appreciative gasps from the guests.
His gaze swept the table, pausing briefly on Zachary Newman. Something flickered in
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his eyes–recognition, calculation, I couldn’t tell which. When his eyes found me, they lingered a moment longer than necessary.
“Her work at YodaVision has caught significant attention,” Mr. Newman continued. “Particularly her emotional recognition patterns in AI development.”
“By reputation only,” Mr. Newman replied, extending his hand. “Your work with Thorne Industries‘ expansion into Southeast Asia has been noteworthy.”
“Elara has always been brilliant,” Julian interjected smoothly. “We’ve been fortunate to
have her back at YodaVision.”
“The market response to your latest software release has been impressive,” Damien said to Mr. Newman, smoothly inserting himself into the conversation.
Elara’s POV
His tone revealed nothing of our impending divorce or the tension between us. To outsiders, we might have seemed like any normal married couple attending a family
function.
“He’ll be livid when he hears about tonight,” Vivienne completed the thought, her expression darkening as she recalled her uncle’s rage directed at Elara—a rage that, given this new development, was likely to reignite with even greater intensity.
Linda nodded slowly, her mind already working through the implications. “Indeed we do. If Uncle Alistair was that furious about a missed opportunity with Newman three
years ago…”
“Damien,” I responded with equal neutrality.
He glanced at the seating arrangement, then deliberately took the empty chair between me and Zachary Newman. The move was calculated–I could tell from the barely perceptible tightening around his eyes.
“Still effective,” I whispered back, watching my grandmother’s delighted expression.
Damien’s eyebrows rose slightly. He turned to me, genuine surprise flickering across his features. “Does she?”
