The Ashridge secret

Initial suspicion

Dominic adjusted his cufflinks—a habit copied directly from his father—as the boardroom quieted down.

“Let’s begin,” he said, his voice steady.

The deal with Tywin Technologies had dragged on for months, an exhausting cycle of negotiations where every department had weighed in, yet the deal remained in limbo.

Then Lena spoke, stepping forward with total confidence. “We need to cut the leash. Tywin isn’t coming around, but Everhart Corp is. We pay them off quietly and we take the Tywin deal without another obstacle in our path.”

Board members nodded in quiet agreement. Strategy set, Dominic brought the meeting to an end.

A short walk across the manicured lawns of the Ashridge estate brought Dominic and Lena to Victor’s residence. They found Victor seated in his study with fingers clasped beneath his chin, staring out toward the gardens. Even in recovery, Victor’s presence carried immense weight.

Lena leaned casually against the edge of the mahogany desk. “You look like something’s on your mind, Victor.”

Victor unclasped his fingers and turned his gaze toward them. “It’s time we host something for Dominic. Something Becky would have done if she were still here.”

Lena blinked. “You’re suggesting a party?”

“A celebration of what?” Dominic asked, his tone laced with skepticism.

“Your wedding reception,” Victor corrected softly. “A dinner for the board and key partners. Something intimate, dignified. I wasn’t able to welcome our guests properly when the marriage happened, but now that I’ve recovered, I want to give them—and others—a reception worthy of an Ashridge heir.”

Dominic heaved a sigh.

“You’re getting sentimental in your old age.” Lena said, smiling.

“I am,” Victor replied dryly. His jaw tightened slightly. “And after my surgery... the firm needs to know that my heart is still beating.”

“We were supposed to be leaving for our honeymoon.”

Victor didn’t look at him. “Rebook it for after the reception. A few more days won't hurt.”

“You really think this is necessary?”

“You want a private celebration of your recovery that doubles as a reception?” Lena asked, reading effortlessly between the lines.

Victor gave her the barest nod. “Exactly. It is necessary to me.”

“Will Elira be okay with it?” Lena turned her attention to Dominic.

“Elira will handle it,” Dominic answered without hesitation.

Lena studied him for a quiet moment. “You really like her.”

“I respect her,” Dominic said simply. “More than I expected I would.” He stepped toward the door to give his father space. “Discuss it further with Elira should she wants additions to the guest list.”

“Sure,” Lena said, “by the weekend. I’ll draft a full plan.”

“Keep it warm,” Victor instructed softly.

“Of course,” Lena agreed.

As Dominic stepped out into the hallway, Victor leaned forward, his piercing gaze searching Lena’s face. “Tell me, Lena… why didn’t Dominic ever notice you?”

The question landed like dropped crystal in the silent room.

Caught off guard. “I’m not the kind of woman he fancies,” she defended. “Dominic prefers soft smiles. Not boardroom claws.”

Elira made herself omelet.

As she plated the omelet, the doorbell rang. Not the house-staff chime, nor the intercom.

The front door.

Elira froze. Then she heard it—heels clicking against the marble foyer. Familiar.

“Elira!” Her mother’s sharp voice rang through the house. “Honey, your staff behave like conjured beings.”

Elira stepped into the hallway just as Erica appeared in a sheath dress that cost more than the stove she’d just used. Erica swept her into a heavily perfumed embrace.

“You should answer your phone,” her mother murmured, kissing the air beside her cheek.

“I was sleeping.”

“Of course you were. A girl needs her beauty rest—especially when she’s playing princess in a billionaire’s castle.”

Elira pulled back slightly. “Please join me?”

“You cooked?” She spat the word like an accusation.

“I was hungry.”

“You shouldn’t be wasting your time over a stove, Elira. What are the staff for?”

The air in the kitchen turned brittle.

“I like cooking,” Elira said quietly.

Erica smiled, cold and knowing. “You always did have small appetites.” She glided into the sitting room and took a seat, crossing one leg over the other. “I assume Dominic’s at the board meeting. I’m surprised he didn’t tell you to attend. Or do you just stay behind to warm the bed?”

Elira inhaled slowly. This was not new. Her mother’s barbs never came with raw malice; they came with entitlement, as if every word were a gift Elira was lucky to receive.

“I didn’t ask to attend.”

“No, of course not. Why would you, when you have nothing to offer in that room?”

The cut was deep. Elira folded her arms lightly.

Erica tilted her head. “Darling, don’t misunderstand me. I want what’s best for you. But you have to understand how delicate your position is. You were chosen, yes, but you’re replaceable. Men like Dominic…”

“Don’t say his name like that.”

Erica blinked. “Like what?”

“Like he’s just another man.”

Her mother smiled faintly. “He is another man, Elira—one you don’t know too well. You think his sleeping beside you means something. It doesn’t. Men like him buy silence with gifts and loyalty with a little touch in the dark. Don’t mistake habit for love.”

“I’m not you, Mother.”

Erica stood, walked over, and touched her daughter’s cheek with fingertips far colder than they used to be. “You are exactly me, my darling. And that’s why you’ll survive this marriage.”

She turned away, asking for coffee. Then Dominic walked in.

Then he recognized Elira’s tone, he paused in the archway, taking in the scene.

“Elira,” he said, his eyes flicking to her before settling on her guest. “Erica.”

“Dominic!” She said delightfully.

He kissed her cheek indifferently.

“You’re glowing,” Erica said, stroking his sleeve with the possessiveness of a mother-in-law who believed she held the reins of their marriage. “That means you’re treating her well.”

Elira flinched—just enough for Dominic’s sharp eyes to catch the motion. He offered no warmth to Erica. His gaze shifted back to Elira, cool and understanding.

“Only the best for your daughter,” he said.

“You’re early.” Elira smiled.

He leaned, kissed her cheek with his hand resting on her waist.

“I couldn’t stay away.”

He drew out a wrapped box from his pocket and placed it in her hands. Elira blinked, looking from the package to his eyes.

“What’s this?” she asked, suddenly cautious.

“Open it.”

As she lifted the lid. She drew in a sharp breath. Inside shimmered a diamond bracelet.

“Dominic...”

“I saw you looking at something similar a while ago,” he said softly, his eyes searching hers. “I wanted you to have it. Because I see you, Elira. And I wanted you to know that.”

Erica gasped, stepping forward. “Oh! Dominic, this is... it’s too much.”

“No such thing,” he replied coolly, turning toward the bar to pour himself a glass of water. “Not for my wife.”

He took a slow sip, his eyes fixing on Elira. “Actually, there’s news from the study. I just left my father.”

Erica’s ears practically pricked up at the mention of Victor. “Is Victor doing better?”

Dominic ignored Erica’s pry, keeping his focus on Elira. “He’s doing well. Well enough that he wants to host a formal dinner here at the estate—a small reception for the board and key partners to celebrate his recovery and properly welcome you as an Ashridge.”

Elira’s breath caught slightly. “A reception?”

“And the honeymoon?” Erica interjected quickly, stepping closer. “Werent you two leaving for Italy this weekend?”

“We’re postponing,” Dominic said smoothly, looking at Elira for her reaction. “My father asked us to rebook for after the reception. Just by a few days.”

Erica’s eyes flashed with subtle satisfaction at the change of plans, but Elira simply looked at Dominic. She didn't panic. She didn't shrink.

“If it’s important to Victor,” Elira said softly, “then of course.”

“Lena will be reaching out to you over the weekend to go over the guest list and vendor details. My father wants you to have the final say on any additions.”

Erica's smile faltered for just a second as it dawned on her that no one had included her in any of the plans. She quickly smoothed her dress and let out a light, well-practised laugh, hiding the sting of being left out behind a composed smile.“Well... a proper reception for an Ashridge heir. It seems there’s a lot to prepare for.”