Chapter 12
Elena’s mornings had taken on a new rhythm.
She wasn’t waking up to check Andrew’s calendar or prepping breakfast for someone who never appreciated it. Now, she woke up to messages from Jade about business leads, updates from her lawyer, or a brief good morning from Sebastian that sometimes made her smile before she even got out of bed.
Today was no different—except there was something new waiting in her inbox.
A formal invitation.
From the Evans family.
“Annual Charity Gala – Celebrating Legacy and Growth.”
Andrew’s father’s signature was printed at the bottom.
Elena stared at it, feeling a strange twist in her chest. It had always been their event. For years, she’d been part of the planning, the speeches, the perfect smile beside Andrew’s as they posed for photos. But this time, she wasn’t being asked to participate as a wife.
This time, she was being invited as a guest.
Sebastian called just as she was setting the invitation aside.
“Let me guess—you got the golden envelope too?”
“So it’s not just me,” Elena murmured, leaning back on her sofa.
“Nope. Looks like they’re trying to keep up appearances. Especially now that Andrew’s company is hanging by a thread.”
“I’m surprised they even invited me.”
Sebastian chuckled. “That’s the thing about the Evans family—they’ll pretend nothing happened as long as it keeps the cameras happy.”
Elena was quiet for a moment, then asked, “Are you going?”
“I wasn’t. But now I think I might.”
“Why?”
“Because you’ll be there,” he said simply.
She rolled her eyes, though her lips tugged upward. “You’re unbelievable.”
“You keep saying that, and yet you never hang up on me.”
She didn’t. She couldn’t.
Later that evening, she called Jade over. Together, they went through dresses, heels, and accessories.
“This one,” Jade declared, holding up a midnight blue gown with a plunging back. “It says ‘I survived hell and now I’m in charge.’”
Elena laughed. “Perfect.”
The night of the gala arrived faster than she expected.
As her driver pulled up to the grand hotel entrance, Elena’s heart pounded. But not from fear.
From power.
She stepped out of the car, heels clicking against marble. Cameras flashed immediately. The media hadn’t forgotten her. If anything, they’d been waiting for this moment—Elena Hart, the cheated wife, attending the Evans’ gala like a queen returning to the battlefield.
Sebastian was already there, dressed in a sharp black tux. He caught sight of her and did a double-take, whistling low.
“You weren’t kidding,” he murmured as she joined him. “You just made every man in here rethink his date.”
“And every woman tighten their grip,” she smirked.
They entered the ballroom together, the air electric with whispers and glances.
Elena kept her chin high, shoulders straight. She greeted old acquaintances with a cool smile, each interaction carefully measured.
Then she saw them.
Andrew and Chloe.
He looked worn out. His usual polished aura was fraying at the edges. Chloe clung to his arm, clearly trying too hard to smile, her pregnant belly unmistakable now.
Their eyes met across the room.
Andrew’s face twitched with something unreadable—regret, shame, maybe even awe. Chloe looked away quickly.
Elena didn’t flinch.
She simply turned to Sebastian, placed her hand on his arm, and whispered loud enough for anyone nearby to hear, “I’m starving. Shall we eat?”
They walked past Andrew without even acknowledging him.
And in that moment, Elena knew something powerful.
She no longer needed revenge.
She had already won.