Elara's POV

"What are you thinking about, Mum?" Noah's small voice pulled me from my thoughts.

"Nothing much, dear," I said softly, smiling at him. "I was just remembering the day I gave birth to my lovely triplets. I love you, my children."

"Mum," Emily said, her eyes sparkling with mischief, "we know you're going back to California, so we made some rules for you."

"Rules?" I raised a brow, laughing lightly as she handed me a folded piece of paper.

"Yes," Claire chimed in proudly. "These are the three golden rules - one from each of us. And don't break any of them!"

I smiled as I unfolded the paper. Their tiny handwriting made my heart swell.

"The first rule," I began, "says that I shouldn't look at any other babies when I go to California."

They all giggled.

"The second rule says... never give up on my job and keep working hard, as always."

Then I paused. My breath caught as I read the last line.

"Why did you stop, Mum?" Noah urged.

I swallowed hard and forced the words out. "The third rule says... do not fall in love with that man again - our father."

My voice trembled. The silence that followed was heavy.

I looked at their innocent faces, my heart tightening. They were too young to understand the full story, yet they knew enough. I had told them about their father - not to plant hatred, but to keep confusion or pain from finding them later.

"I understand," I said quietly. "But Noah, Emily, Claire - Mummy told you this so you wouldn't hear it from someone else. You can't let hate fill your hearts. It's not good for children to carry that kind of feeling, okay?"

Claire nodded, her voice soft. "We understand, Mum."

"Me too," Noah and Emily echoed together.

A small smile touched my lips. I reached out and ruffled their hair gently. "Good. That's my strong little team."

Just then, a servant appeared by the door. "Madam, Mr. Sullivan is asking for you."

Mr. Sullivan - the man who had saved my life five years ago. The chairman of Spectra Minds Group. My mentor... and the only man who had treated me like a daughter since the tragedy.

I walked to the balcony where he sat in his wheelchair, the morning light spilling across his white hair. Despite being sixty-five, his eyes still held the sharpness time couldn't dim.

"Please, sit down," he said warmly. "Are your things packed? You're leaving for California this afternoon, right?"

"Yes," I replied. "Everything's ready."

He nodded and picked up his iPad, handing it to me. "I want to show you something."

The image on the screen froze me.

"Do you recognize this?" he asked.

I blinked, my lips parting. "This... this is-"

"Yes," he said, his gaze steady. "The upcoming World Fashion Show in California. Major companies from all over the world have been invited, including ours. I want you to represent Spectra Minds Group as our ambassador."

My heart skipped a beat.

He leaned closer, his voice calm but firm. "You've spent five years chasing revenge, Elara. Consider this my gift to you - a chance to get justice for Finn. You can do whatever you need to... just don't mess this up."

His words sank deep. This wasn't just an opportunity - it was fate giving me one final push.

"What about the kids?" I asked softly. "People might recognize them... especially Noah. He's a mirror image of Ian. I don't want Ian to find out about them."

"Don't worry," Mr. Sullivan said reassuringly. "They're my family now - my grandchildren. I took you in as my daughter, and you'll always be mine."

I couldn't help the tears that pricked my eyes.

By two o'clock that afternoon, it was time to leave. The triplets came to see me off at the airport, their little faces full of reluctance.

"Mummy, think of us often," Emily said, gripping my hand tightly.

"And don't forget about us," Noah added.

I smiled through the ache in my chest and kissed each of their foreheads. "I'll never forget you, my loves. Be good and listen to Grandpa Sullivan."

After giving the bodyguards instructions, I waved goodbye and boarded the plane.

As the aircraft lifted, I pressed my forehead to the window, watching the land shrink beneath me.

Ian... after five long years, I'm finally back. Let's see what kind of surprise you'll have when you see me again.

*******

IN CALIFORNIA

Years had crawled by - years painted with darkness, pain, and silent strength. But I survived. I rebuilt myself piece by piece, rising from the ashes of betrayal.

Now I was back with a mission - to conquer my past and push Spectra Minds Group to global dominance in the fashion world.

As I sat in the car, a glass of red wine in hand, I gazed out at the glowing skyline of California. "Five years," I murmured to myself. "Just five years, and look how everything's changed..."

*******

THE FASHION EVENT

The venue buzzed with energy. Designers, reporters, and celebrities filled the grand hall. Tonight's show wasn't just a launch - it was the event of the season.

Camila Vale - Ian's secretary - strutted through the crowd, her lips painted crimson, her heels clicking like a ticking clock. She had been with Ian for five years. Or should I say... far longer than I ever expected.

Everyone whispered about her - not as his secretary, but as his girlfriend.

"There are so many domestic and international media outlets here tonight," Camila said sweetly as she guided Ian around. "The publicity will be huge. I think sales for the new season are already secured. After all, we're a luxury brand, and our target audience is-"

Ian barely nodded, his expression unreadable.

Before she could finish, her assistant, Laura, rushed over. "Ms. Camila, Mr. Vance, it's almost time to let the guests in."

Camila glanced at her wristwatch. "Alright. Go inform them."

As Laura hurried off, Camila turned back to Ian - but his phone rang sharply. His brows furrowed.

"I need to take this," he said curtly, already walking away.

"But the event-"

He didn't even look back.

Laura soon returned, a playful grin on her face. "Ms. Camila, you're amazing. How did you manage to get Mr. Vance so easily? You're like a real girlfriend!"

Camila smirked, brushing an invisible speck of dust from her dress. "What are you still doing here?" she snapped. "Get back to work before I fire you instantly."

Laura flinched and scurried off.

Camila straightened her dress, forcing a smile. She might have everyone fooled - but deep down, she knew something had changed.

Because tonight... Elara was back.

Elara's POV

I followed Ian out of the fashion show and kept my distance, slipping behind a marble pillar in the corridor. My pulse was steady, trained to hide itself; my breath slow. From my hiding place I could hear him-low, flat-answering a call.

"You need to hurry up with Camila," his mother's voice snapped. "You're thirty-three. Do you think you're still young? This isn't the old days. Stop clinging to nonsense ideals. Marrying her will be good for our family's reputation. You're a businessman, Ian. You should know the benefits."

Her tone softened for one poisonous second. "As long as she can be a good wife, that's enough."

My fists tightened. The same manipulation, the same woman who once praised me as the perfect daughter-in-law.

Ian's face didn't move. "I know, Mum."

"You always say you know," she said. "But you never act on it."

The call ended. Ian slid the phone into his pocket and exhaled. I ducked deeper behind the pillar, certain he'd sense something was off. I waited-then heard his voice again.

"Elara..."

My body froze.

Had he seen me?

No. His eyes weren't on me. He'd seen-someone else. A woman walking toward the showroom caught his attention; from behind she looked like me-same height, same dress, the same dark waves of hair.

Ian straightened, pupils narrowing, and followed her.

I stayed where I was, breath held. Watching him trail after a stranger who looked like me brought a sharp, bitter satisfaction that tasted almost like victory.

When he reached her, he tapped her shoulder. "Elara?"

She turned, startled. Completely unfamiliar face.

"What do you want?" she asked, playful at the sight of his suit. "Want my number?"

Ian's expression closed like a door. "Sorry. Wrong person."

He left without another word. The woman stood there, stunned, then sneered. "What rubbish! You mistake me for someone else and can't even see properly at night-are you a mole or what?"

Her insult hung in the air. Ian didn't look back.

Not far off, I watched from the crowd-wearing the same dress as that woman, mask hiding the top half of my face. A small, cold smile curved my lips.

Ian, I thought, five years ago I respected you. I loved you and treasured you with my life. And what did you give me? You called me a nuisance, a burden. Fine.

I adjusted my mask until it sat right. This time, I promised myself, I'll be your worst nightmare. I won't let you hurt me again.

Memories clawed at me-his betrayal, the humiliation, Finn's silence-but tonight wasn't for pain. Tonight was about control.

The lights dimmed. Models began to parade down the runway, one breathtaking look after another. The hall shimmered and applauded; I sat very still, eyes fixed on the two people who had ruined me-Ian and Camila.

A cold prickle ran down my spine when Camila shifted and swept her gaze over the crowd. For a breathless second our eyes locked.

My pulse hit a faster tempo. Did she recognize me? I wondered.

Her brows moved for a second, then smoothed. The mask worked.

Evil witch, I murmured beneath my breath. You wanted me dead five years ago. Too bad for you-I survived. I'm back, and you will pay. For me. For Finn.

I blinked the sting of tears away before anyone could see.

Ian leaned in and tapped Camila's shoulder. "Who are you looking at, Cam?"

She forced a smile, cupping his face. "Nothing, babe. I thought I saw an old friend."

She kissed him. I stared at the stage instead-anger tempered into quiet resolve.

When the show ended, Camila was invited onstage to speak. She glided up with the confidence of a woman who'd planned every step. The microphone was in her hand, the lights on her. She opened her mouth-and the big screen behind her shuddered to life.

"Camila, please help me... please..."

A woman who looked exactly like me begged for help across the hall. The voice was trembling, raw.

The audience sucked in a collective breath.

Weeks of planning and a clever IT hand had made that video possible-an image designed to turn the room against her.

Camila froze, her face draining color. Murmurs rose like a tide.

This is only the beginning, I thought, my whisper drowned by the audience. The tip of the iceberg.

I lifted my glass and crushed it in my palm. The glass shattered, glittering like splintered promises.

Panic rippled through the crowd. Bottles and programs became missiles-paper, water, anything people could grab. Chaos surged toward the stage.

"What's going on? What's wrong with everyone?" Camila barked, panic slipping into her voice.

She spun toward Ian-but he stared at the screen, muscles tight.

"Who played that video?" she cried. "Turn it off! TURN IT OFF!"

She bolted for the wings, but the press swarmed her like bees, shouting questions.

"Ms. Camila, who is the woman in that video?" "Do you know her?" "Were you involved?"

"I- I don't know her!" she stammered, sweat beading on her upper lip. "How would I know her?"

The flashes kept firing. The microphones kept asking.

When she finally looked for Ian, his chair was empty. Her face went ashen. She lunged after him. "Ian, listen-this is an accident! It's not what you think!"

He stopped, turned slowly, and his voice was brittle as glass. "Then what is it, Camila?"

She went still. The color left her cheeks.

Ian's jaw tightened. He released her arm like a burning coal and ordered, cold and curt, "Laura, take care of her. If anything happens, wait for me."

Then he walked away.

I watched him go, a slow smile unfolding at the corner of my mouth.

Round one, Camila. Welcome to the beginning of your downfall.

Elara's POV

I forced my way through the crowd, pushing past flashing cameras and trembling guests until I reached the exit. My chest was tight, my breath quick.

What happened tonight was enough to scare the hell out of Camila. And I didn't even have to try too hard.

Stay alive, bitch, don't die yet - I thought with a smirk. The worst is yet to come.

Before I could reach the door, I collided with someone - hard chest, warm body - and fell flat on the marble floor. My bag slid a few feet away. I snatched it up quickly, ready to bolt, when a hand appeared in front of me.

"Here," the man said.

I looked up.

Sharp suit. Neat undercut. Cool eyes.

And damn - he was beautiful.

"I'm Liam," he said, his voice smooth as sin, still holding my hand like it belonged to him.

For a second, I forgot why I was even running. My pulse skipped, but I quickly pulled my hand back. Without a word, I turned and walked away.

He frowned, but I didn't care. It wasn't arrogance - just survival.

But before I could leave, I realized something was wrong.

Guards had blocked the main entrance, checking every single guest before letting them out.

Panic stirred in my chest. I scanned the room, searching for another way. That's when I spotted a man wheeling a clothing rack backstage.

Perfect.

I hurried to him and slipped a few bills into his hand. "I need a dress and that purple wig," I whispered.

He looked at me, confused. "I'm sorry, miss, it doesn't work that way-"

But I was already pulling the wig over my head. My makeup smeared as I messed up my own face - deliberate, chaotic - to make recognition harder.

By the time I reached the guards, my heart was pounding in my ears.

"You with the purple hair - wait," one of them said.

I froze , turned around slowly and looked at him.

He looked at the picture on his phone, then at me without blinking. For a heartbeat, I was certain I'd been caught.

Then he frowned. "What happened to your face?"

I let out a small laugh. "Oh... my face, It's the new viral look - trending makeup for high-end shows. You know, avant-garde stuff. No one can afford this kind of look except elite designers."

He finally blinked, shrugged, and waved me through.

I smiled, calm on the outside - chaos on the inside - and walked to the parking lot.

Inside my car, I yanked off the wig and looked in the mirror.

"Holy shit, Elara," I muttered, laughing. "You look like a clumsy clown from the '80s."

I wiped the smeared paint off my face, started the engine, and drove out of the gala.

*******

The streets of California blurred past. My thoughts were a storm.

A dark car followed behind me.

"Ian," I whispered bitterly.

I pressed harder on the accelerator, weaving through traffic and cutting down a narrow side road.

I wasn't the same frightened girl he'd married five years ago - the one who trembled at the ignition and begged someone else to drive because she was terrified she'd kill an innocent with her lousy steering. "I don't want this, babe..." I'd said. Fuck! Those words crawled under my skin and burned like acid in my skull.

"Not this time," I muttered. "Even if I have to drag you to hell myself, Ian, I'll make you pay with my last breath. "

Tears burned behind my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.

Pull yourself together, Elara. They're the ones who wronged you.

When I checked my rearview mirror again, his car was still there. Persistent bastard.

I swerved onto a rough side road leading toward a small town and parked in front of the first house I saw.

Heart hammering, I ran to the door and banged hard. "Help! Somebody, please help me!"

A woman opened the door, wearing a white robe, her hair straight and loose down her back.

"Please," I panted, "someone's following me."

"Should I call 911?" she asked, startled.

"No. Just let me hide. If he comes, tell him you live alone - he'll leave."

She hesitated but finally led me into a small empty room.

Moments later, Ian appeared at the doorway. My heart nearly stopped.

And then-

"You again?" the woman said sharply. "Stalking me in the middle of the night? You refused to take my number earlier and now look at you, that ugly face at my doorstep"

My face scrunched in confusion as I peeked through the crack in the door, watching their little drama unfold. The woman folded her arms and scoffed. "I thought moles couldn't see at night, but look at you - forcing your half - blind self to stalk me all the way home. Should I clap or call animal control?"

I froze. Wait. That voice...

She was the same woman from the gala - the one Ian had mistaken for me earlier.

"I- I'm sorry-" Ian began.

But the woman slapped him. Hard.

Ian's face darkened, shock flickering in his eyes. He wasn't used to being humiliated.

"You're going to explain this to the police," she snapped. "Breaking into my house while I'm naked? Are you insane?"

"You wouldn't dare," Ian said, his voice low and sharp.

"Try me," the woman shot back, arching a brow with a smirk that could cut glass.

She picked up her phone, dialing. Ian's jaw clenched - then he turned and stormed out, red-faced. "Wow... such a drama I just enjoyed this evening."

I waited until he was gone before stepping out of hiding.

"Thank you," I said, smiling.

She crossed her arms. "Glad I could help that retard get what he deserves."

I chuckled softly. "Trust me, he deserved worse."

As I stepped outside, someone grabbed me and pulled me into the shadows, a hand covering my mouth.

I struggled until I looked up - and froze.

Liam.

The man from the gala.

He slowly let go. "Don't scream," he whispered.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" I hissed.

Before he could answer, he nodded toward the street. Ian stood beside his car, scanning the area.

Liam's voice dropped to a whisper. "You're welcome. I just saved your ass."