Elara’s Pov
The cursor blinked at me like it had something to say.
6:04 a.m. The house was quiet. It was too quiet for the chaos in my chest. I had my laptop open, the dining table turned into a temporary research station. Neurocardiology tabs filled the screen, one article leading to another. My dream was right there. It was clear and unreachable all at once. I wanted my own lab, a space where I could chase neurons and heartbeats until they made sense together. But dreams needed money, and mine was still locked behind my father’s crumbling empire.
So I worked. I worked because if I stopped, I’d think. And if I thought, I’d see him.
Last night refused to leave my head. I’d come downstairs for water and saw Adrian—my fiancé on paper, my stranger in reality—walking to his room with a wom
