"Killian, don't you ever take a break?" Elara asked, her voice calm but filled with exhaustion as she holds a steaming cup of coffee between her hands.
Killian barely glanced up from his laptop, his fingers typing with calculated precision. "No. And neither should you if you want to survive in this world."
Elara exhaled softly, shifting her gaze to the large television mounted on the wall. The morning news played in the background, a well-dressed anchor flashing a rehearsed smile before launching into the day's most talked-about scandal.
"In shocking high-society news, last night's formal introduction of Elara Carter as Killian Hayes' wife has sparked waves across the elite circles. Sources say the marriage is not what it appears to be, with many speculating it to be nothing more than a strategic move rather than a real union."
Elara's face flush,her grip on the cup tightened, but she kept her expression neutral. The camera switched to a panel of socialites, their laughter cruel and unrestrained.
"Honestly," a sleekly dressed woman scoffed, "Killian has always had exquisite taste. But this? Elara Carter is hardly what one would call an appropriate match." She is a nobody,but a scheming young woman.
"Agreed," another woman chimed in. "She lacks the pedigree, the presence, the refinement. She's not the type of woman men like Killian marry. She's the type they discard,how can a poor wretched woman climb to socialite level,she lacks what it takes to be here."
A round of laughter followed, and Elara's stomach twisted painfully. She swallowed hard, forcing herself to take another sip of coffee as if the words meant nothing.
Killian finally looked up, his gaze flickering to the screen for a brief second before returning to his work. "Are you expecting me to care?" His voice was void of emotion.
Elara turned to him, her chest tightening. "No. I suppose not."
"Then don't waste your time sulking over meaningless chatter." He leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. "If this is too much for you, you can leave. No one is stopping you."
Elara's breath skipped a beat,, but she quickly masked it with a small, hollow smile. "You forget, Killian. I signed a contract. I can't leave even if I wanted to."
"Then endure it." His tone was final, dismissive, as if her suffering was nothing more than an inconvenience.
The news continued, showing more commentary, more biting remarks. Every sneer, every sharp-tongued opinion weighed on her like a stone. She felt like an outsider looking in, an unwelcome intruder in a world that would never truly accept her. The perfect wife, the perfect match for Killian was someone from their ranks—someone polished, poised, and bred for this life. Not her.
She let out a slow, measured breath. If she broke now, they would win. She would not give them that satisfaction.
Before she could say anything else, the sharp click of heels echoed against the marble floor. Celeste strolled into the room, a smirk tugging at her lips as she glanced at the television.
"Well, dear sister-in-law," she drawled mockingly, amusement dancing in her eyes. "You're quite the headline today. How does it feel to be the most talked-about woman in the city?"
Elara refused to give her the satisfaction of a reaction. "I'm honored," she said flatly.
Celeste chuckled heartily,circling the room like a predator savoring its prey. "You should be. Though, I must say, the reviews are rather… unkind. But don't take it personally. It's not your fault you're entirely out of place."
Elara set her coffee cup down, her fingers trembling slightly against the porcelain. "Is there a reason you're here, Celeste? Or did you just come to gloat?"
Celeste feigned innocence. "Me? Gloat? Never. I simply wanted to check on our new addition to the family. And, of course, to see how my dear brother is handling all the… publicity."
Killian, who had been silent through the exchange, finally spoke. "You're wasting your time, Celeste. If you're here to stir trouble, do it elsewhere."
Celeste pouted dramatically. "So cold, brother. One would think you'd at least pretend to care about your wife."
"I don't pretend," he replied simply.
Elara inhaled sharply but forced herself to remain composed. "It's alright, Celeste. If Killian doesn't care, why should I?"
Celeste laughed, clearly enjoying the dynamic. "Oh, Elara. That's the spirit. You'll need that thick skin if you want to survive in this world. Though, I wonder how long you'll last before you finally break."
Elara met her gaze head-on. "That's what makes this interesting, doesn't it? Watching and waiting?" She leaned back in her chair, forcing a confident smirk. "Let's see who lasts longer."
Celeste raised an eyebrow, mildly impressed. "Well, well. Perhaps you have some fight in you after all. This might be more entertaining than I thought."
With that, she sauntered out, leaving behind a thick silence. Elara exhaled slowly, the weight of everything pressing against her chest, but she refused to break.
Killian shut his laptop and stood. "If you're done with your pity party, get ready. We have a business event to attend tonight."
Elara looked up at him, the coldness in his gaze slicing through her. "Do I have a choice?"
"No."
She nodded, setting her jaw. "Then I'll be ready."
As she turned to leave, Killian's voice cut through the silence. "Elara."
She paused, glancing over her shoulder. He was watching her, his expression unreadable.
"Do you regret it?" His voice was low, almost too quiet, but there was an edge beneath the calm.
Elara met his gaze, searching for something—anything—that might give her a hint of what he was truly thinking. But, as always, he remained a unreadable,impossible to decipher.
She forced a small, bitter smile. "Would it matter if I did?"
A flicker of something—annoyance, curiosity, something else—crossed his face, but it was gone just as quickly.
"You tell me," he said.
Elara studied him for a long moment before turning away. "Maybe one day, Killian," she murmured, her voice carrying just enough weight to linger. "Maybe one day."
She turned on her heel, walking away with as much composure as she could muster, but she could still feel his gaze drilling into her back.
Killian watched her go, his fingers tapping idly against the desk. His expression remained impassive, but a slow, calculating smirk curled his lips.
Regret? What a foolish question. Regret was for people who had something to lose.
Elara Carter was nothing more than a strategic move, a carefully placed pawn in a much larger game. She could act strong, play resilient all she wanted—it changed nothing.
She was here because he allowed it. And when the time came, when she had served her purpose, he wouldn't hesitate to discard her.
With a scoff, he shut his laptop and stood, his voice cutting through the silence once more.
"Don't be late tonight, Elara. I won't tolerate a wife who can't play her role."
Elara paused at the doorway, her fingers gripping the frame. She didn't turn around, but her voice was steady when she spoke.
"And I won't tolerate a husband who forgets that even pawns can bring down kings, Killian."
A beat of silence stretched between them. Then, a quiet chuckle—low, amused, and laced with something unreadable.
"Is that so?" Killian mused.
Elara finally turned her head slightly, just enough for him to see the faint, knowing curve of her lips.
"Wait and see."