“I’m the person you tried to erase,” she said. “And tonight, I’m done being invisible.”
Dinner became a slow humiliation.
Seats shifted. Conversations re-centered. People leaned toward Elara—not Julian.
Julian found his name placed far from the head table. Isabella disappeared into the crowd the moment she realized Julian’s power was collapsing.
Julian sat alone, watching Elara speak with ease, laugh with people he’d begged for attention. He watched her handle the room like it belonged to her.
Because it did.
He couldn’t stand it.
Fueled by rage and desperation, he rose and crossed the hall toward her.
“Enough,” Julian snapped, slamming his hand down. “Stop playing games. This is my company.”
Elara set her glass down. The sound was small, but it silenced the space around them.
“Is it?” she asked gently.
Julian’s voice shook. “You—You plant flowers. You bake bread. You don’t know anything about what I built.”
Elara’s expression didn’t change.
“You’ve always liked the story where you’re the builder,” she said. “The truth is less flattering.”
Julian tried to laugh it off, tried to charm, tried to turn the room into his audience again. He spun excuses, framed her as emotional, framed her as dramatic.
But Elara didn’t raise her voice.
She didn’t plead.
She didn’t “explain.”
She simply spoke with clarity.
“Tonight isn’t about revenge,” she said. “It’s about reality.”
She turned slightly, addressing the room.
“I supported this company quietly for years because I believed in partnership,” she said. “And I believed in him.”
Her eyes moved back to Julian.
“But partnership requires respect. And respect can’t survive where humiliation lives.”
Julian’s face tightened, panic flickering under his arrogance.
Elara continued, voice steady.
“Julian made choices that endangered more than his reputation,” she said. “He made choices that risked people—employees, customers, trust.”
The words landed like stones.
Sterling’s expression hardened.
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