Chapter 8 - The Queen on Her ThroneElena wore a sweeping emerald-green silk dress that hugged her full-term pregnancy with regal elegance. Her dark hair was styled in a polished crown braid, and her eyes—cold, clear, and utterly devoid of warmth—locked onto his ragged, desperate figure.
Valentino stopped dead in his tracks, his breath hitching in his throat.
"Elena," he breathed, taking a hesitant step forward, hands raised pleadingly. "Please... you have to call off the Vanguard lawyers. You’re freezing my entire life. We can fix this. We can talk about the baby—"
"There is nothing to talk about, Valentino," Elena interrupted. Her voice was low, crystalline, and absolute.
"I made a mistake!" Valentino shouted, panic bleeding into his tone as he stepped closer to the threshold. "It was a moment of weakness! Vivien meant nothing to me! You know how this business works—distractions happen, but my real family is you! Let me come home. Let me be a father to my son."
Elena tilted her head, a chilling, humorless smile touching her lips.
"A mistake?" she echoed softly. "You didn't make a mistake, Valentino. You made a calculated business decision. You believed I was a timid librarian who would sit quietly in your penthouse while you handed my life over to my best friend."
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She stepped forward, towering over him with the absolute authority of an untouchable queen.
"You said it yourself over the earbuds, Val: 'She doesn't need to know right now.' Well, now I know everything."
