The morning after the gala, the headlines were merciless.
BILLIONAIRE RECLAIMS HIS WIFE.
THE WOMAN HE COULDN’T FORGET.
CLARA WHITMORE ERASED FROM THE PICTURE?
Elena stared at the glowing screen in Adrian’s study, her fingers tightening around the tablet.
“Erased,” she murmured softly.
The word felt like a warning.
Behind her, Adrian stood by the window overlooking the manicured grounds of the Laurent estate. Sunlight filtered through the floor-to-ceiling glass, casting long shadows across the polished floor.
“You shouldn’t read those,” he said evenly.
“You read them.”
“I read them for impact analysis.”
She turned toward him. “And what’s the impact?”
He slipped one hand into his pocket. “Stock is stable. Investors are cautiously optimistic. Clara’s family hasn’t made a statement
