Chapter 5
1525 Words
The Man I Loved
The morning light slid through the high arched windows of the Ashworth estate, gilding the marble floors in a soft glow. Elara moved through the room in silence, clutching her robe tighter around her frame. She had thought foolishly, that after the gala he'd probably be back that she’d not wake up alone. But unfortunately he’d vanish the way he often did, drifting between penthouses, boardrooms.
The smell of dark roast coffee hit her before she reached the kitchen. When she stepped in, she froze.
Dorian sat at the head of the table, crisp white shirt open at the throat, his hair slightly mussed in a way that only made him look more dangerously composed and handsome. He was flipping idly through her stack of unopened mail, as though it were his own.
“Morning,” he drawled without looking up.
“What are you doing here?” Her chest tightened.
“Last I checked,” he said, his eyes finally meeting her eyes, “this is still our house.”
Her lips thinned. She wanted to scream that it wasn’t theirs anymore, that every corner of this mansion felt like a prison he locked her inside. Instead, she brushed past him, reaching for a mug. Her fingers trembled only slightly.
He slid something across the table. An envelope.
She glanced down. The words on the front made her stomach twist.
Riviera Hotel; Class Reunion
Her name was embossed neatly beneath.
“You opened my mail now?” She muttered.
“Consider it efficient.” He leaned back, watching her. “We’re both invited. I already RSVP’d. I thought it might be… nostalgic.”
Her hand tightened on the mug. “You had no right.”
His smirk curved. “I’ve never needed one.”
She exhaled sharply, deciding not to give him the satisfaction of her anger. She left the invitation untouched on the counter, retreating upstairs to dress for her meeting. But even as she buttoned her blouse, her eyes betrayed her glancing once at the mirror, at the faintest tremor in her hands. He was under her skin, as always.
….
By noon, Elara sat stiffly across from Mr. Bryant, the Seabreeze Project lead. The office was sleek, modern, all clean lines and ocean-view glass but his face was grave.
“Elara,” he began, “I’ll be frank. We can’t proceed with you on Seabreeze.”
The words hit me so hard. “What? After everything I’ve done for this project…”
He slid the morning paper toward her. The headline blared:
Ashworth Corp Pledges Backing to Harborline Redevelopment. Seabreeze in Jeopardy.
She stared, bile rising in her throat.
“Investors believe your ties to Dorian Ashworth compromise your position,” Bryant said softly. “Some think you’ve been leaking information. Others fear you’ll be pressured. I fought for you, Elara, but the board… they won’t risk it.”
“You know me. You know I’d never…” She could heard her heart beat.
He shook his head. “This isn’t about the truth. It’s about perception. And perception is reality in this world.”
“So what is to be done.” She asked.
“I'm sorry but I'm not sure anything's can be done. You should probably fix your personal life. Maybe they'd be a compromise.” He said as he stood up.
“Have a nice day Elara.” He said and walked out without turning back.
“Gosh!”
Just as a tear was about to fall off her eyes she stood up and left before her composure cracked.
When she returned home, the house was quiet, too quiet. Until she heard the faint clink of glass in the study.
We ran towards the study she was so angry she could explode.
Dorian was there, pouring himself whiskey though the sun was still high. His suit jacket lay tossed carelessly over the armchair.
“You sabotaged me,” she said, her voice sharp as a blade with a hint of pain.
He swirled the amber liquid, unfazed. “Carrington was circling you like a shark. Better you learn sooner than later who controls the waters.”
Her nails dug into her palm. “You had no right…”
“I have every right,” he cut in, stepping closer, his presence suffocating. “You’re mine.”
“Yours?” She laughed bitterly. “You’ve filed for divorce forty-nine times.”
“And yet here we are.” His voice softened, dangerously intimate. “Do you want me to call it off? Say the word, Elara, and I’ll tell the board there will be no divorce.”
The silence grew even thick between them. For a moment, she glimpsed something raw in his eyes, something that almost looked like hope.
She swallowed hard. “You don’t get to play savior after tearing me apart. I’m done, Dorian.”
Her heels clicked against the marble as she turned and walked away, leaving him behind.
---
The Reunion
The Riviera Hotel shimmered with chandeliers and laughter, a ballroom filled with old classmates, champagne, and polished nostalgia. Elara arrived on Lydia’s arm, dressed in a midnight-blue gown.
But the moment she entered she saw
Dorian, already there, putting on a sharp suit, with cufflinks gleaming. Isla on his arm in a dress that screamed for attention. He didn’t look at Isla when Elara walked past his eyes followed Elara instead.
“Hey, Elara long time.” One of her classmates called gesturing her to come over.
“It's been so long, you never came to our other reunions.” She smiled.
“Mary, uhm… I've not gotten the time to come.” Elara forced a smile.
“We have a long to take about.” She smiled and so did Elara.
“I heard these two are now dating.” Another classmate, Jessica muttered looking at Dorian and Isla.
“I always knew they'd get together. And they look so good together, right?” Mary asked looking at Elara.
“Uhm…? Yes.” She nodded, forcing another smile.
“Hello everyone!” One of the famous heartthrobs back in school stood at the platform tapping a glass.
“Since we are all here, it's TIME to play the game!!” Everyone laughed, “what game?” Elara asked, “Truth or Dare.”
Against her better judgment, Elara sat in the circle, Lydia at her side.
The bottle spun and landed on the first girl, the second guy and then it landed on her.
“Truth,” she said evenly.
A classmate leaned in with a wicked grin. “Are you still single? If yes, do you still love the person you ones loved?”
The room went quite.
Her gaze flicked toward Dorian. Then she lifted her chin. “Yes and No. The man I loved doesn’t deserve me. Or maybe I don't deserve him.”
A ripple ran through the group. Isla smirked, squeezing Dorian’s hand and the game continued again.
The bottle spun again and this time it landed on Isla.
“Dare,” she said brightly.
“Kiss someone,” came the reply.
They were gasps, and then laughter. And Isla leaned without hesitation toward Dorian, pressing her lips to his. Cameras flashed and whispers surged.
Dorian kissed back, it felt deliberate and slow. His eyes still burning into Elara’s.
But she only smiled thinly, turning toward another man beside her, asking about his promotion. The guy must have said something and she laughed out loud. Dorian’s jaw tightened. He pulled always from Isla, and then he poured himself another drink. And another.
By midnight, the reunion continued with music and wine. Dorian stayed near the bar, his glass never empty, his gaze never leaving Elara. She danced once, twice, smiling with men who touched her hand too freely. Each laugh of hers twisted in his gut. He so wanted to go over to them best up the guys and tell them she was his.
When she finally excused herself toward the restrooms, he followed.
“Elara.” His voice was rough, and slurred at the edges.
She ignored him, reaching her door. But suddenly his hand was there, braced against the frame, blocking her.
“You think I don’t notice?” His words spilled.
“You don’t flinch anymore. You don’t fight me. You just… laugh. Like I’m nothing.”
His breath was heavy with whiskey. His eyes, we're glassy and raw.
He caught her then, pulling her back against his chest, his arms locking around her. His voice near her ear.
“Why don’t you react? Don’t you love me? Are you going to leave me too?”
Her heart lurched. For a moment, she felt something. But he doesn't get to control her. The man who ruled boardrooms and headlines clung to her like a drowning man. Was this any trick?
She forced herself to remember every wound, every divorce paper, every humiliation.
Slowly but firmly, she pried his hands away and turned to face him.
“I don't have to leave you” She whispered.
“I already have
- Writer
