Her hair, usually gathered in a messy bun, fell in elegant Hollywood waves. Around her neck shone what appeared to be the “Heart of the Ocean,” a magnificent sapphire that very well could have been. She didn’t lower her gaze. She stared ahead with eyes as cold as steel.
Julia dropped his champagne glass. It shattered, scattering fragments onto Isabella’s shoes. Neither of them noticed. Julia squinted. His brain couldn’t process what he saw. She looked like Elara… but she couldn’t be. Elara was home. Elara was simple. He had eliminated Elara.
The woman began to descend. Each step was measured, each movement radiated power. The master of ceremonies announced, his voice slightly trembling: “Ladies and gentlemen, I ask you to stand to welcome the founder and president of the Aurora Group, Mrs. Elara Vae-Thor.”
The silence that followed was deafening. Julia’s knees trembled. Isabella looked at him with wide eyes. “I thought you had said she was a housewife.”
Elara reached the bottom of the stairs and stopped a meter away from Julia. She didn’t look at him. She looked right through him, directly at Arthur Sterling, who bowed his head in a sign of respect. Then, slowly, she turned her gaze back to her husband.
“Hello, Julia,” she said. Her voice echoed down the hall, soft and deadly. “I think there was a mistake with the guest list. It seems I was removed… so I decided to buy the place.” The flashes were blinding, but Julia felt immersed in the darkness. The air in the great room had become thick, suffocating. He stared at Elara. No, it wasn’t Elara. It was a stranger with the face of his wife.
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