Elara caught her reflection in the darkened glass of the green room's window. The woman staring back wasn't the broken girl who had sobbed on a London park bench five years ago, shivering under a cheap coat and wondering if she would ever feel warm again. She could feel the weight of every sleepless night, every penny she’d pinched to buy Leo’s formula, and every cold, aristocratic stare she’d endured from the Thorne family. She wasn't just walking out there for herself ; she was walking out for the girl she used to be, the one who didn't have a voice and didn't have a choice.
"You don't have to do this," Julian whispered. She felt his presence before she saw him, his hand coming to rest on the small of her back. His touch was no longer a claim; it was a plea. "I can handle the board. I
