Chapter 146

No.1

The morning after the broadcast, Elisa was sitting in a private corner booth at an exclusive,members-only cafe near Aethel HQ. The sun streamed through the windows as she checked her laptop, sorting through a flurry of congratulatory emails. The internet was buzzing with clips of her segment. "Faye" was trending. Allena was a punchline.

The peace was shattered when two women suddenly slid into the booth across from her. Allena, wearing oversized sunglasses to hide what looked like puffy eyes, and her mother, Rosalind Sinclair. They were dressed to the nines, radiating the cold, hard arrogance of old money.

Elisa considered calling security to throw them out.Then she considered the satisfaction of facing them down.She slowly closed her laptop.

"What do you want?"

Rosalind leaned forward, her smile a thin, red slash."Elisa, darling. We need to talk. About your future."

They looked around the sleek, modern cafe with barely concealed disdain. Rosalind took in the tech executives having quiet meetings nearby, her lip curling.

"Charming," Rosalind said, her tone implying the exact opposite. "Very... corporate."

No.2

"What do you want?" Elisa repeated.

Allena pulled off her sunglasses. Her eyes were red,her face blotchy. "You humiliated me," she hissed."On national television. You made me look like a fool."

"You did that yourself," Elisa said calmly. "I just didn't stop you."

Rosalind stepped forward, placing a restraining hand on Allena's arm. "We're not here to rehash the past,Elisa. We're here to offer you a way out. A dignified exit."

Allena reached into her Hermes bag and pulled out a thick document. She tossed it onto the coffee table.It landed with a heavy thud.

"Sign it," Allena said, her voice trembling with anger.

"Just sign it and disappear."

No.3

Elisa didn't touch it. "What is it?"

"A divorce settlement," Rosalind explained, her voice smooth and condescending. "Germaine has already approved it. You sign this, you agree to leave New York, to never speak to the press, and you walk away with a very generous sum."

She named the figure. "Fifty million dollars."

Elisa stared at her. The number hung in the air,meant to be a knockout blow, a sum so vast that a girl from the Appalachian mountains couldn't possibly refuse.

Rosalind smiled, a predator confident in its kill."That's more money than your entire family has seen in generations. You can go anywhere. Buy a little house in the country. Forget all about this silly war."

Allena crossed her arms. "Take the money, Elisa. It's the only win you're going to get."

Elisa looked fromn the document to their expectant,arrogant faces. A slow, icy sensation spread through her, but it wasn't anger. It was a profound, almost physical disgust.

No.4

She reached for her coffee cup on the side table. She took a slow, deliberate sip, savoring the heat, the bitterness. She placed the cup back down with a soft clink.

Then she looked at Rosalind, and she spoke.

For seven years, she had been forced to endure Germaine Chambers's lessons. Not just in flower arranging and etiquette, but in the old woman's favorite weapon: the precise, cutting Parisian French she used to humiliate her guests. Elisa had learned it,perfected it in silence. Now, she would turn that weapon back on its own kind. Her voice was different. The accent was gone. The soft, American cadence was replaced by something else. Something rapid, fluid, and razor-sharp.

"Madame Sinclair, votre tentative de m'acheter est àla fois pathétique et insultante."

Rosalind blinked. The smile froze on her face. She had not expected this. She spoke some French-every good society woman did-but the speed, the accent, the sheer venom in Elisa's voice caught her off guard.

Elisa turned her gaze to Allena, who was staring in open-mouthed confusion.

"Quant à vous, ma chère," Elisa continued, her French flawless, her tone dripping with ice, "vous vous battez pour un homme qui n'est rien de plus que mes déchets d'occasion."

No.5

Allena's mouth snapped shut. She didn't understand the words, but she understood the tone. It was a slap.

"What did you say?" Allena demanded, her voice high and shrill. "Speak English!"

Elisa switched back to English, her voice slow and deliberate, savoring every syllable. "I said, he's second-hand trash. And you're welcome to him."

The words hit Allena like a physical blow. Her face flushed a deep, ugly red. "You bitch!"

Elisa picked up the settlement agreement. She didn't read it. She held it up, looking at the dense legal text,the signatures waiting at the bottom.

Then, with both hands, she tore it down the middle.The sound was sharp, satisfying. She tore it again.

And again. Until it was nothing but a pile of confetti.

No.6

She let the pieces fall from her fingers, drifting down onto the coffee table like dirty snow.

"Get out," Elisa said, her voice dropping to a lethal whisper. "The exit is behind you. Don't let the trash dirty my table on the way out."

Rosalind was trembling with rage. "You... you ungrateful little wretch. You'll regret this. You'll be left with nothing!"

Allena lunged forward, her hands clawed, her face twisted with hatred. "I'll kill you!"

Elisa sidestepped with the effortless grace of a dancer. Allena stumbled past her,catching herself on the edge of the table.

Elisa picked up her phone. "Leave," Elisa said, her voice calm. "Or I'll have the cafe's security escort you out in front of half of Wall Street's tech sector."

Rosalind grabbed Allena's arm, dragging her toward the door. They fled out the entrance, their heels clicking frantically on the stone.

No.7

Elisa watched them go. She turned off the alarm. The

silence rushed back in, broken only by the sound of her own steady breathing.

She walked back to the coffee table and picked up her coffee. It was cold. She didn't care. She took a sip, the bitter taste a perfect match for the cold, hard victory in her heart.