Others exchanged glances.
This wasn’t gossip. This was consequence.
Julian’s mouth opened, searching for an escape.
Elara lifted a hand.
Sebastian moved, and security stepped closer—not aggressively, just present. A reminder.
Elara leaned toward Julian slightly, her voice low enough to feel personal, loud enough to carry a warning.
“You erased my name because you thought I was simple,” she said. “But simplicity was never weakness. It was restraint.”
Julian’s eyes flashed with a last, ugly defiance.
“You’re nothing without me,” he hissed. “You can’t run this. You’ll ruin it.”
Elara’s gaze didn’t flinch.
“I’m not nothing,” she said calmly. “I’m the foundation you stood on.”
She paused.
“And foundations don’t beg for approval from the walls.”
She turned away from him then, as if he’d already shrunk into something irrelevant.
“Mr. Vane,” she said to Sebastian, “escort Mr. Thorn out.”
Julian jerked back. “No—Wait—”
Sebastian’s grip was firm. Security guided Julian away as the room watched.
No one stepped in.
No one defended him.
Because power, Julian realized too late, wasn’t the noise you made.
It was who the room listened to when you stopped talking.
As Julian was pulled toward the doors, he twisted back, face contorted, trying to throw one last insult like a weapon.
“You’ll be alone!” he shouted. “Cold and alone!”
Elara lifted the microphone one final time, her voice composed.
“I was alone when you stood next to me and refused to see me,” she said. “This is not loneliness.”
Her eyes met his.
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