Chapter 19
The gala had left an echo in Elena’s mind. Not the music or the lights, not even the compliments—but the way she had walked into that room and felt nothing but power. The kind that wasn’t given, but earned.
The next morning, she sat at her kitchen table, sipping coffee and going over notes for a charity project she was spearheading. A fund for women who had been through public divorces, financial abuse, or betrayal like hers.
It wasn’t just about giving back. It was about building something meaningful from the wreckage.
Sebastian arrived around noon, two coffees in hand, looking entirely too good for someone she still hadn’t officially defined as her boyfriend.
“You’re early,” she said, looking up.
“I figured I’d distract you before your next meeting.”
“And how exactly do you plan to do that?”
He held up the coffee. “Step one: caffeine. Step two: charm.”
She laughed softly. “You’re lucky I like both.”
They sat on the balcony, side by side, as the city bustled below them. He glanced at the papers spread out in front of her.
“What’s this?”
“Blueprint for the foundation. I’m calling it ‘Phoenix Rise.’ It’s for women who were torn down, like I was. Legal aid, therapy, startup capital. A way to take back their power.”
Sebastian stared at her for a moment. “You never stop impressing me.”
She shrugged. “I’m just done waiting for permission to be who I want to be.”
A comfortable silence settled between them. But then Sebastian’s tone shifted.
“I got a call from my father,” he said. “He wants a meeting. With both of us.”
Elena’s breath caught. “What? Why?”
“I think the family’s starting to realize that I’m serious about you.”
Elena blinked, surprised. “Are you?”
He looked at her, gaze steady. “I’ve never been more certain about anything.”
She didn’t know what to say to that. Her heart pounded—not out of fear, but the strange sensation of being truly seen and accepted.
“Will Andrew be there?” she asked quietly.
“Probably. But you don’t have to go if you’re not ready.”
Elena sipped her coffee, thinking. “No. I think I will.”
Sebastian turned toward her, concerned. “You sure?”
“I’m not afraid of them anymore. And if they’re going to talk about me, they can do it while I’m in the room.”
A week later, she stood in front of a towering estate, Sebastian by her side. Her heart didn’t race. Her hands didn’t shake. She wasn’t the timid wife anymore—she was a woman with nothing left to prove.
The Evans family had gathered in one of the grand sitting rooms. Andrew was there, of course, sitting stiffly in a tailored suit, his expression unreadable.
Their father, Richard Evans, spoke first.
“Elena,” he said, nodding. “Thank you for coming.”
She returned the nod. “Let’s not pretend this is a casual tea party. What’s this really about?”
He wasn’t used to such bluntness, clearly, but he recovered. “Sebastian tells me you’re serious. About each other.”
She glanced at Sebastian, then met Richard’s eyes. “We are.”
Andrew’s voice finally broke in. Cold. Defensive. “This is absurd. She’s my ex-wife.”
Elena turned to him with a calm smile. “Exactly. Ex. You made that choice when you chose Chloe over your vows.”
Andrew flinched.
Sebastian stepped forward, voice even. “She deserves respect. And if the family can’t give it, then I’ll walk away from the name, the fortune, all of it. I’ve built my own legacy. I don’t need theirs.”
The room fell silent.
Richard finally cleared his throat. “I’ve underestimated you both.”
“Most people do,” Elena said smoothly.
The meeting ended not with celebration, but with a cold sort of acceptance. That was fine. Elena didn’t need their approval.
As she and Sebastian walked out of the estate, hand in hand, she breathed deeply.
“You okay?” he asked.
“I feel… free.”
And she did. Not because of what anyone said, but because she had walked into a room full of ghosts—and none of them could touch her anymore.