The CEO's revenge Bride

Chapter Five: Old Friends, New Enemies

The scandal surrounding Sinclair Enterprises became nevertheless smoldering, the town’s enterprise circles humming like hornets across the headlines, whilst the information of Samantha’s mystery marriage in the end reached the ears of her oldest pal — Elena. The second she studied the article, her hands iced over mid-scroll on her telephone, and for some silent seconds, she couldn’t decide what taken aback her extra — the scandal swallowing Mrs. Sinclair’s empire or the sight of Samantha, standing beside Edison Thorne, wrapped in white lace and wedded bliss.

Elena had recognized Samantha for years, from the days when she was still a young lady trying to survive the ruthless social circles of the elite. They’d shared secrets, heartbreaks, and past-due night guarantees of freedom from the cages their households had constructed for them. But this? This turned into something Samantha had stored hidden even from her. The sharp sting of betrayal wasn’t clean to swallow. A part of Elena desired to accept it as true. There needed to be some misunderstanding, however, the pics didn’t lie. There Samantha became, wearing a diamond ring that would blind her, status beside the only guy no one had predicted her to even entertain — Edison Thorne.

Edison Thorne, the bloodless, unreadable, and untouchable heir to the Thorne fortune. And more than that — the younger 1/2-brother to Eric Thorne, a person Elena knew all too properly.

Elena’s thoughts spun as she stared at her reflection within the replication of her apartment. The greater the idea about it, the more it dawned on her that this wasn’t a love tale at all. Samantha wasn’t the type of woman to fall for a person like Edison in a single day. There needed to be extra. There is always extra. And if Samantha had married into the Thorne circle of relatives, there was no question in Elena’s mind that it wasn’t for romance — it was for strength, for revenge, or perhaps each. But even knowing that the notion gnawed at her.

That equal afternoon, wearing a stylish but modest black dress, Elena located herself taking walks into the glass towers of Thorne Enterprises. But no longer for Edison. No, her steps have been pointed at once closer to the workplace of his older brother, Eric. If Samantha had stepped into the lion’s den by way of marrying Edison, then perhaps the only way for Elena to guard herself — and perhaps even her friend — was to align with a different beast altogether.

Eric Thorne became not anything like his brother. Where Edison wore silence and sharpness like a tailor-made match, Eric favored charm like a velvet glove hiding an iron fist. He had the type of smile that could soften the coronary heart of any socialite and the kind of foxy that could shred an empire in the back of closed doors. While the world pitied Eric for being the "neglected" older son of the Thorne family, Elena had visible the reality below his rehearsed mask. Eric wasn’t susceptible. He wasn’t a few wounded heirs. He turned into a predator, and the simplest component he craved more than strength became revenge on the brother who had always outshone him.

The receptionist ushered her interior without hesitation. Eric had usually saved his door open for her. Their history becomes complex — element friendship, component flirtation, component something tons darker. When she stepped into his office, he changed into standing through the ground-to-ceiling home windows, palms tucked well into his wallet, staring out over the metropolis like a king surveying his kingdom.

“Elena,” he greeted her without turning. His voice changed into smooth, nearly lazy. “I'm thinking about how long it'd take to come running.”

She didn’t answer immediately. She let her heels click slowly across the marble floor until she stood only some feet behind him.

“You saw the news,” she said at last, her voice lower than normal. “Samantha married Edison.”

Eric ultimately turned, his face carved from calm however his eyes sharp with amusement. “Yes, I saw. Our sweet, quiet Samantha — the forgotten Sinclair woman — is now my brother’s spouse. Who might’ve idea?” He moved towards his desk, poured himself a glass of aged scotch, and lifted it slightly toward her. “Drink?”

She shook her head, watching him intently, seeking to read the layers underneath that polished floor. Eric had usually been this way — captivating, disarming, risky. His whole lifestyle, he’d played the position of the misunderstood son, the only one who in no way measured as much as Edison in their father’s eyes. But that was Eric’s finest weapon all alongside. Sympathy became the perfect cover for a person who plotted inside the shadows.

Elena sat down across from him, folding her hands well in her lap. “You don’t appear amazed.”

Eric’s lips curved into a small, understanding smile. “Because I’m not.” He leaned back in his chair, swirling the scotch lazily in his glass. “Edison doesn’t marry for love. Samantha doesn’t marry for affection. And each of them is too clever to waste time on romance. This is a sport, Elena. And I intend to win it.”

There it turned into — the confession she had anticipated but still felt a shiver upon listening to. Eric had always made it clear that he didn’t simply want the Throne fortune or his father’s approval. He desired manipulation. Over Edison. Over the circle of relatives' names. Over the entirety.

Elena tilted her head barely, reading him. “And wherein do I fit into that recreation, Eric?”

He set his glass down, his expression softening handiest slightly. “Right where you belong. Beside me.”

The phrases hung within the air, heavy with meaning. There is no denying the diffused history between them, the magnetic pull that had continually danced just under the surface of their conversations. And even as a part of her felt the vintage temptation upward push, another component — the wiser component — knew higher. Aligning with Eric turned into making a cope with satan. But if she wanted to shield herself, and perhaps even apprehend Samantha’s plan, this was the handiest path forward.

Eric reached through the table, his fingers brushing against hers with a nearly planned gentleness. “You’ve always been clever, Elena. Smarter than maximum humans give you credit for. Samantha’s already selected her side. The query is... Will you select yours?”

Elena swallowed tough, her pulse quickening underneath her calm expression. The guy sitting throughout from her wasn’t providing her friendship. He turned into supplying her a seat at the desk, at the cost of her loyalty. And someplace deep down, she knew this wasn’t just about Samantha and Edison anymore. It turned into approximately something an awful lot bigger.

As she stood to go away, Eric’s voice accompanied her like silk.

“When the dust settles, remember this — the handiest circle of relatives worth having is the one you construct for yourself. Everyone else is just a brief guest.”

The phrases echoed in her mind long after she’d stepped out into the crisp afternoon air. The city skyline stretched wide before her, glittering like a crown of fake guarantees. Samantha had made her pass, and now Elena had made hers. Whether it became the right one or not, only time would tell.