13 Eavesdropped Truths and Shifting Loyalties
Elara clutched the banister, her knuckles turning white as she strained to hear the conversation below. The hallway was dark enough to conceal her presence, allowing her to remain unnoticed on the landing. 1
“I’m not hiding, Sabrina,” Damien replied, his tone clipped. “Just waiting for her to go to sleep.”
Elara recognized the voice now–Damien’s sister, Sabrina Thorne. Always outspoken,
never one to soften her words.
“Same difference,” Sabrina scoffed. “You’re avoiding your wife. Not that I blame you. The whole arrangement is awkward.”
“It’s temporary,” Damien said dismissively.
“How temporary? You’ve been stringing her along for years.” Sabrina’s heels clicked against the marble floor as she paced. “Vivienne mentioned you’re meeting her tomorrow morning.”
“I am.”
“And Elara? What about her job at Thorne Industries?”
There was a pause before Damien answered, his voice lower. “I had Ethan terminate her employment last week.”
Elara’s breath caught in her throat. She’d handed in her resignation letter, believing she had left on her own terms.
“She thinks she resigned,” Damien continued. “Better that way.”
“Always the gentleman,” Sabrina remarked sarcastically. “At least you’re finally cutting ties. Vivienne’s perfect for you–brilliant, accomplished, beautiful.”
“She understands me,” Damien agreed.
Elara pressed a hand to her mouth, stifling any sound that might escape. So her resignation had been a lie–just another humiliation orchestrated by Damien.
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13 Eavesdropped Truths and Shifting Loyalties
“Well, I’m heading up,” Sabrina said. “Don’t stay down here all night avoiding the
inevitable.”
Their voices faded as Sabrina headed toward the east wing where the guest rooms were located. Elara remained frozen, processing what she’d heard. When she finally moved to retreat, a floorboard creaked beneath her foot.
“Who’s there?” Damien called sharply.
Elara considered fleeing but straightened her spine instead. She wouldn’t skulk away like a thief. She descended the stairs with measured steps, her face a careful mask.
“Just me,” she said evenly. “I was coming down for tea.”
Damien’s expression gave nothing away as he studied her. “How long were you standing there?”
“Long enough.”
They stood in tense silence, the truth hanging between them.
“You had me fired,” Elara stated flatly. “You couldn’t even give me the dignity of
resigning.”
“It was cleaner this way,” Damien replied, his tone businesslike. “The terms were still
the same.”
“The terms, yes. But not the truth.” Elara’s laugh held no humor. “You know what hurts the most? I actually believed I had some control over the situation.”
Before Damien could respond, footsteps approached from the hallway.
“Elara,” Ethan Thorne, Damien’s younger brother, looked surprised to see her. “I
thought I heard voices.”
Unlike Damien, Ethan’s smile was warm. He’d always been kinder, less calculating than
his older brother.
“I was just headed to the kitchen,” Elara explained.
“Let me join you,” Ethan offered. “I was about to make some tea myself.”
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Damien’s jaw tightened. “I have work to finish,” he said curtly, then headed toward his study without another glance.
In the kitchen, Ethan prepared two mugs of chamomile tea. “I’m sorry about the job,” he said quietly. “Damien insisted on handling it personally.”
“Yet he had you do the dirty work,” Elara observed, wrapping her fingers around the warm mug.
“He’s not always…” Ethan trailed off. “I’m just sorry. You were good at your job.”
Elara smiled faintly. “Thank you, Ethan. For being honest with me.”
They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes before Elara excused herself. As she climbed the stairs, her heart felt oddly steady. Another illusion shattered, but somehow, it hurt less than expected.
Back in her room, she closed the door and leaned against it. No tears came. Instead, a strange calm settled over her. She was tired of caring what Damien thought, tired of allowing his actions to dictate her emotions.
When Damien finally entered their bedroom hours later, Elara was sitting in bed, reading. She didn’t look up.
“You should be asleep,” he said, loosening his tie.
“And you should be honest,” she replied evenly, turning a page. “But we can’t always get what we want.”
Damien paused. “You’re angry about the job.”
“I was,” Elara admitted. “Now I’m just tired.”
She set her book aside and slid under the covers, turning away from his side of the bed. She didn’t offer to help with his cufflinks as she usually did, didn’t ask about his day or remind him about tomorrow’s schedule.
Damien seemed momentarily thrown by her indifference. He stood by the bed, as if waiting for her to perform her usual wifely duties.
“Is something wrong?” he finally asked…
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“Nothing that concerns you anymore.” Elara kept her back to him. “Goodnight,
Damien.”
The bed dipped as he sat on the edge, but he didn’t lie down. Instead, his phone rang, and he answered immediately.
“Yes?” His voice softened noticeably. “No, it’s fine. I’m not busy.”
Elara remained still, listening to the one–sided conversation. The change in Damien’s tone said everything–whoever was calling had his full attention, his warmth. Vivienne.
“I’ll be there first thing,” he promised before ending the call.
Without another word to Elara, Damien headed to the bathroom. When he emerged, he grabbed a pillow and blanket.
“I’ll sleep in the study tonight,” he announced. “I have early meetings tomorrow.”
Elara didn’t respond, pretending to be asleep. Only when the door clicked shut did she open her eyes, staring at the empty space beside her.
The next morning, Elara woke to find Damien’s side of the bed undisturbed. He hadn’t returned during the night. She dressed quickly and went to rouse Cora for school.
“Time to get up, sweetheart,” she called, knocking on Cora’s door.
A grumpy Cora emerged, hair tangled and eyes narrowed. “Where’s Dad?”
“He had an early meeting,” Elara explained. “I’m taking you to school today.”
“But Dad always takes me on Thursdays,” Cora complained. “It’s our tradition.”
“He couldn’t today. Now please get dressed–we’re running låte.”
Cora stomped back into her room. When she reappeared, Elara noticed she’d changed her outfit completely. Instead of the neat uniform blouse and skirt Elara had laid out, Cora wore a bright camouflage shirt with sequins over her uniform skirt.
“Where did that come from?” Elara asked, frowning.
“Aunt Vivi got it for me.” Cora lifted her chin defiantly. “She said I should wear it whenever I want to feel brave and strong.”
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Elara recognized the shirt instantly–Vivienne had posted pictures wearing a similar style on social media just weeks ago. The message wasn’t subtle: Cora was declaring her allegiance.
“That’s not appropriate for school,” Elara said firmly.
“Dad lets me wear it,” Cora countered. “Aunt Vivi says it makes me look cool.”
“I’m not Dad, and I’m certainly not Vivienne,” Élara replied, struggling to keep her voice steady. “Please change back into your proper uniform.”
