Chapter 3
913 Words
Cracks in the Mask
Subject: Ashworth Foundation Coastal Redevelopment Gala
From: Dorian Ashworth
To: Elara Vance
– Elara,
Your presence at tonight’s event is required.
As you know, the Seabreeze Project falls under the Foundation’s redevelopment initiatives.
I am expecting to see you there.
– Dorian.
There was no greeting, no pretense of politeness. Just an order wrapped in the excuse of “business.”
She’d stared at it for a full minute, torn between deleting it and showing up purely to prove she wasn’t intimidated. In the end, the decision was made for her.
– Looking forward to seeing you at the gala tonight.
The Seabreeze Project client sent a follow-up message.
---
In no time it was the day of the event and she had no choice but to be there and put up a fake smile for the audience.
The Ashworth Foundation’s ballroom glowed like something out of a luxury magazine spread. Crystal chandeliers glittered overhead, champagne shimmered in slender flutes, and the guest list was a roll call of the city’s power players.
The irony wasn’t lost on her. This was the exact kind of night she’d dreamed about in the first year of her marriage… standing beside Dorian, representing not just his name but her own achievements. But now it felt like she was walking into enemy territory.
The moment she stepped into the Ashworth Foundation’s ballroom, she saw him.
Dorian stood near the grand staircase, tailored tuxedo immaculate, posture as commanding as the chandeliers above.
Isla was at his side in a liquid-silver gown that clung like a second skin, her hand lightly resting on his arm.
They looked like a perfectly curated couple in a society feature spread and she knew that was exactly the point.
For the first hour, Elara stayed anchored to her Seabreeze Project client, smiling politely and discussing site logistics over champagne. But she could feel Dorian’s gaze steady, assessing, her.
When she excused herself for a drink, she passed close enough to catch Isla’s voice.
“Careful, Dorian. She’s talking to Michael Carrington. You know how competitive his firm is.”
“She can talk to whoever she likes,” he replied lazily, but his gaze was no longer on Isla but why should she care? He didn't care about her feelings.
By dessert, the pressure in the room was unbearable. Elara slipped onto the terrace, needing air.
The night was crisp, the city skyline lighting beyond the balustrade.
She closed her eyes and inhaled, trying to let the cool air wash away the cloying scent of expensive perfume and whispered gossip.
“I thought you hated leaving events early,” came Dorian’s voice from behind her.
She didn’t turn. “And I thought you hated talking to me in public.”
His footsteps were deliberate as he came closer. “You’re wearing the necklace.”
Her fingers instinctively brushed the pendant at her throat. “It’s mine.”
“I know.”
The admission was so quiet, she almost missed it.
“Why did you keep it?” She asked, her voice was low. “You could have given it back. Instead, you let Isla think…”
“I let you think,” he cut in. His voice hardened. “It’s not the same.”
She turned to face him, catching a flicker, just a flicker of something unguarded in his eyes. But it was gone before she could name it. “Jeez! f**k you Dorian.”
“You wouldn’t understand,” he said.
“Dorian, I think I understand it all.”
“You know I wouldn't call off the divorce even if you act all strong.” He muttered with a low voice and I smiled.
“I…” Before I'd finish the terrace door swung open. Isla stepped out, faux surprise painted perfectly on her face.
“Oh, here you are, Dorian. Everyone’s waiting for you to give the toast.”
Then, with a tilt of her head, “Elara. I didn’t know you were still here. I thought you’d left early, like last time.”
Her smile was all teeth.
Elara moved to brush past her, but Isla’s voice stopped her.
“You know, it’s almost sad… coming to a party you weren’t invited to, just to be ignored.”
Elara’s lips curved faintly. “You think you’re being clever, Isla, but you’re just predictable. You're just a petty little girl begging for attention.” Isla’s smile tightened.
Elara smiled and walked back into the hall leaving them alone.
Inside, the music shifted to a soft waltz as Dorian took the stage for his toast.
Elara lingered at the edge of the crowd, telling herself she didn’t care what he had to say until she realized he was looking directly at her while he spoke.
“To the people who stand beside us,” he said, glass raised. “Through storms, through loss, through trials, and never walk away.”
The words were meant for the room.
But his eyes never left hers. And for the first time in months, she didn’t know if she wanted to stay or run.
The applause swelled, but Elara’s heartbeat was louder.
Then she saw him, Dorian stepping down from the stage, not toward Isla, but toward her and the expression on his face… was not the one she knew how to fight.
What game was he playing
hmmg tbg if 8yb8g 8bt8g 8g it 9hn9h 9gnh. her TV tvtbt8btb7b7fbtbtbt
- Writer
