Chapter 3

Elenora's POV:

The venomous whispers of the crowd swelled, a tide of judgment and ridicule threatening to drown me.

"She probably just made him up."

"A partner? Please. Who would that be? Some poor, unsuspecting fool she' s conned?"

Clay' s eyes bored into mine, a predatory glint replacing the earlier shock. "Tell me, Elenora," he challenged, his voice dripping with condescension. "Who is this phantom man? Your latest victim? Or are you just trying to save face? Because, frankly, there's no saving this."

He gestured wildly at me, then at the gawking crowd, his power surging again, a suffocating force meant to crush me. "What kind of man would truly value you, Elenora? What could you possibly offer besides... desperation?" His gaze moved to the locket, then back to my face, a dark suspicion blooming in his eyes. "Unless your 'partner' is just another one of your exotic fantasies."

I remained silent, my fingers unconsciously tracing the outline of the locket beneath my dress. My priority wasn't to argue with these people, or with Clay. It was to leave, to get back to my son, who was waiting in the car, patiently, but for how long?

Destany, her smile now a triumphant sneer, stepped forward. "Oh, I have an idea! Since you're so... talented at making things up, perhaps you could entertain our guests? We could use a server for the hors d'oeuvres. It's honest work, Elenora. And it would be a step up from... whatever this is." She waved a dismissive hand at my simple attire. "It's not charity, darling. It's an opportunity. You know, to earn your keep, instead of trying to leech off others."

Laughter erupted from the crowd.

"A server! Perfect for her."

"She probably has experience, given her background."

"Does she even know how to hold a tray without dropping it?"

"Stick to what you know, Elenora! Don't reach for what's not yours."

My patience, stretched thin for my son' s sake, snapped. "I am not your entertainment! I am leaving!" My voice, sharp and cold, sliced through the laughter.

Destany' s face flushed with anger, her eyes narrowing to slits. "How dare you! After all the kindness Clay has shown you, you repay him with this insolence? Ungrateful wretch!"

Clay, his irritation palpable, cut in. "What exactly do you want, Elenora? You clearly don't want a job. You clearly don't want me." His voice was laced with a chilling disdain. "Let me make this abundantly clear. You and I are over. Our past is dead. And my future is right here." He pulled Destany closer, a possessive hand on her waist. "She is my fiancée. My partner. The woman I will marry."

Just then, a line of uniformed security officers, crisp and imposing, marched into the ballroom. They moved with a practiced efficiency, their gazes sweeping the room.

Henderson, the head of security, practically saluted the lead officer. "Captain! Thank heavens! We have a situation. This woman, she's a trespasser, causing a disturbance, trying to steal from the premises!" He pointed a fat finger at me.

The security captain, a man with a stern face and an even sterner gaze, assessed the scene. His eyes, sharp and intelligent, flickered between me and the agitated crowd. "A disturbance during the pre-summit gala? This is highly irregular. We have high-profile delegates arriving any moment, including Mr. Gordon himself." He looked at me, his voice hardening. "You're making a spectacle. This behavior will not be tolerated. Someone like you has no business here."

"Secure her," he commanded, his voice echoing through the suddenly silent room. Two burly guards moved towards me, their hands already reaching.

"Wait!" Clay barked, his voice overriding the captain's. He stepped forward, his eyes fixed on the locket in my hand, as if seeing it for the first time.

His hand trembled slightly as he pointed. "That... that locket," he whispered, his voice raspy, barely audible. "What is that? Where did you get it?"

He was shaking. His composure had entirely vanished, replaced by a raw, naked fear. He looked at the locket, then at me, then back at the locket, as if it held some terrible secret he' d long suppressed.

"This trinket," he scoffed, trying to regain his composure, his voice still shaking. "It used to be a symbol of my... foolishness. I should have thrown it away years ago. Why would you still have it, Elenora?" He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, a flicker of pain crossing his face, then he hardened, his features setting into a mask of cold disregard. "It represents a weakness I overcame. A past I put behind me. Just like I put you behind me." He spat the words, bitterness coating his tongue. "It's meaningless. Just like you."

The old memories, suppressed and hidden deep within me, stirred. They clawed their way to the surface, sharp and vivid, a painful echo from a lifetime ago.