The air crackled with tension, so thick it was suffocating. Charles
Hudson's bluff had been called, and the price was his dignity.
His wife, the formidable woman whose family fortune had bankrolled his
rise, was very much alive. Her legendary temper kept him on a short leash, even
now. Public affairs were one thing; parading his mistress in front of his wife
was a line that would see his fortune severed in the divorce.
Did he want to be a laughingstock with one foot in the grave? It was a
faster death than crossing his wife.
Silas's gaze was a physical weight, cold and unyielding. Charles's aged
face tightened like parchment, the silence stretching until it snapped.
Then, a low, rasping chuckle broke the stalemate. Charles's eyes
crinkled, the picture of a benevolent, if slightly embarrassed, elder.
"Silas, my boy," he began, his tone dripping with false
warmth. "Must you strip an old man of every last shred of his pride?
Indulge your Uncle Hudson this once."
Silas didn't flinch. One arm was draped casually around Elara's
shoulder, a blatant display of possession. The other hand remained in his
pocket, the picture of effortless control. A ghost of a smile played on his
lips, a silent challenge.
Charles watched the intimate pose, a flicker of something unreadable in
his eyes. Before this return to the UK, he'd been in Italy… and had run into an
old acquaintance from a bygone era. It was a stark reminder that while some
things remained frozen in time, he was the only one crumbling with age.
He schooled his features and turned, his voice dropping to a commanding
growl. "Sarah. You heard him. Apologise to Mrs. Thorne. Now."
Sarah rose, her face ashen. Every step toward Elara was a march to her
own humiliation. She drew a sharp, silent breath and bowed deeply, her pride
shattering on the pristine lawn.
"Mrs. Thorne," she forced out, the words tasting like ash.
"My behaviour was utterly unacceptable and profoundly disrespectful.
Please accept my most sincere apologies."
She straightened slightly, her eyes fixed on the ground. "And I
will, of course, adhere to Mr. Thorne's… instruction. You will not see me
again. You have my word."
The defeat wasn't just in bowing to Elara. It was in the crushing
realisation that her patron was no match for the man standing behind her. The
door to Silas Thorne—and all his power—was now permanently closed.
Elara observed the display of submission with detached calm. "See
that you do," she stated, her voice crisp and final. "You won't get
another opportunity."
It was over. With Charles witnessing the humiliation, Elara had secured
a total victory without lifting a finger.
Sarah forced herself upright, the smile on her face brittle. "Mr.
Thorne's... leniency is appreciated."
With the ugly scene concluded, Charles's expression thawed into one of
strained geniality. "Right. I'll leave you two to enjoy your day. Don't
let this old man keep you."
He turned to leave, Sarah trailing in his wake like a ghost. But after
only two steps, he paused, snapping his fingers as if struck by a sudden, fond
thought. He looked back at Silas, his eyes glinting.
"Oh, I almost forgot, Silas. I heard that boy—the one Elora Cohen
bore you—is back in Oakhaven. Julian, isn't it?" He let the name hang in
the air, a deliberate poison. "You should bring him to the christening the
day after tomorrow. I'd love to meet him. A son of Elora's… he must be quite
something."
He offered a wistful, knowing chuckle before finally turning and walking
away, leaving the toxic reminder hanging in the air.
Silas watched him go, his eyes darkening into twin abysses, his
expression unreadable.
Elara's gaze was fixed on his profile, her mind racing. What was the
true connection between Hudson and the fallen Cohen family? The way he said
Elora's name… it held a familiarity that was both intimate and menacing.
"Penny for your thoughts, Mrs. Thorne?" Silas's voice cut
through her reverie, his thumb gently stroking her cheek.
She brushed his hand away playfully, looking up at him with a teasing
glint. "I was just wondering if you're secretly furious with me for
scaring off your new… business partner."
Silas let out a genuine laugh, the sound rich and warm. He ruffled her
hair affectionately. "Is that what you think? Baby, you just did me the
biggest favour. I should be rewarding you."
Her smile was a sly, knowing curve. "You seemed rather… amenable to
the collaboration earlier."
He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
"Sometimes, darling, it's not about the agreement you make, but the excuse
you have to break it. There are three days until Friday. A lot can happen in
three days. Who's to say a… more pressing prior engagement won't come up?"
Elara's eyes widened slightly. The ruthless calculation in his words was
both shocking and thrilling. "What kind of engagement?"
Guiding her to sit under a parasol, Silas waited until Brooke had
discreetly moved the caddies out of earshot before answering. "The day
after tomorrow is Hudson's grandson's christening. The who's who of Oakhaven
will be there. Finding a very public, very plausible reason to sever ties with
his little protégé will be simplicity itself." He took her hand, his touch
possessive. "And you, my clever wife, handed me the perfect reason on a
silver platter. Without your little performance, I'd have had to get my hands
much dirtier. You're my good luck charm."
He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her
knuckles.
A blush warmed Elara's cheeks, but she didn't pull away. "Don't
give me all the credit," she demurred. "If Brooke hadn't pinned her
to the table like an insect, I wouldn't have had the upper hand."
Then, with meticulous detail, she recounted the entire confrontation,
sparing no venom as she repeated every one of Sarah's taunts and provocations.
Why shouldn't he know? she thought fiercely. Let him hear how the women
who covet him speak to his wife. Let him see that I won't stand for any
ambiguity. This isn't about love; it's about respect. Our marriage is a
partnership, and I will not be disrespected.
As she spoke, Silas's smiling eyes grew darker, more intense. When she
finished, he let out a soft, appreciative breath.
"Elly," he murmured, his voice full of genuine admiration.
"You were magnificent. Absolutely magnificent."
Whether facing Sarah's venom or navigating Charles's games, she
continued to reveal new, fascinating layers of herself. She was steel wrapped
in silk, knowing precisely when to be each. He was beginning to understand,
with chilling clarity, how a boy like Julian could have become so obsessively,
destructively devoted to her.
Batting her eyelashes, Elara accepted his praise with a radiant smile.
"You flatter me, Mr. Thorne. I learned from the best."
"Cheeky little thing," he laughed, the sound unrestrained.
"Your flattery won't work on me."
"Fine, no more praise then," she quipped, smoothly extracting
her hand from his and standing up. "Come on, then. You promised to teach
me. These clubs weren't cheap."
He rose to follow her, a fond smirk on his face. "You change your
mood faster than the weather, little one."
They had only been practising for about ten minutes when Silas's phone
vibrated. He answered, his expression giving nothing away as he listened to
Ingrid on the other end.
"Understood," he said finally, his tone flat. "I'll have
Ethan take Julian to see her."
At the mention of Julian's name, Elara's good mood evaporated.
"What's happened?" she asked the moment he hung up.
Silas met her concerned gaze, his own devoid of emotion. "Vivian.
She's lost the baby. She's in the hospital now, demanding to see Julian. Lady
Thorne is worried she'll lose another one and is insisting he go."
Elara gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "A miscarriage? But she
was fine yesterday..."
And then, like a bolt of lightning, she remembered Ethan's cryptic words
from that morning.
What had he done?