Chapter Two
“Oh, look who is here?”.... Mireille Morreau, Elara’s cousin said, her voice loud enough to draw attention to Eli who had just walked into Elara's birthday party which was being held at Genevieve Morreau — Elara’s grandmother’s house.
Eli, who was tired due to the distance it took from his house to this place, and the only available car had been used by Elara sighed to himself, wishing that everybody would ignore him and he could spend time with his wife
“Darling!!! – I know you said I should wait at home for you and how you wanted to surprise me, but grandma threw this party and she said if I didn’t show up on time, we were going to have issues, that’s why I left.” Elara, who had noticed the commotion, said as soon as she reached Eli’s side.
“Oh! – pleeease – you do not owe this man an explanation.” Lucien Morreau, …. Elara’s uncle and Selva’s younger brother said, coming to stand beside Elara.
Unfortunately for Eli, Lucien was about to make an announcement, and a mic was in his hand, so all the guests heard the cruel words he had said to him.
“Uncle, he is my husband, so I owe him every explanation.” Elara responded, her face masked with pain and sadness due to the ugly way Lucien had just spoken to Eli, but in her heart she was joyful and happy about the embarrassment Eli was currently facing.
She had been happy to marry Eli at first, had been in love and wanted nothing more to spend the rest of her life with him, she had known about his situation then, but somewhere deep in her heart, she had believed things would change and Eli would become rich, but with each passing month, and Eli didn’t seem to improve in his finances, and her family had started to look down on her, even her mom had done nothing to hide her disappointment in her choice, Elara had started to detest Eli, and the love she had for him started to fade.
She couldn’t divorce him though, she did not want people to see her as a gold digger and someone who only married for money, so she had continued to pretend as the sad, helpless wife whenever her family insulted Eli and hoped in her heart, that this would chase him away and she could continue to uphold her good perfect persona, and all the insult would go to Eli.
‘Poor husband leaves loving wife due to shame.’ That would bring so many rich suitors to her, who would treat her nicely and try to gain her favour, because they would all believe she was so in love with her husband and she was suffering from immense heartbreak, thereby making it hard to win her heart.
“It doesn’t matter Elara, Hope you are enjoying the party?” Eli asked, a sharp pain cutting through his chest as he looked at his wife’s sad face.
“How could I enjoy the party without you here? —- I was thinking of coming to find you if you had not shown up.” Elara responded, burying her head in Eli’s shoulders as disgust passed through her face.
Eli felt happy immediately and wrapped his arms tightly around Elara, giving her a peck on her forehead.
Genevieve Morreau, Elara’s grandmother watched with displeasure at this show of affection from the podium on which she stood, she had hoped to use this event to look for suitable suitors that were worthy of her granddaughter, but how was she going to be able to achieve that when Elara was putting on a public display with Eli, clearing her throat, she reached for the mic.
“Gift giving will now commence, I would love to invite Elara to join me on this podium.” Genevieve’s voice rang out – sending a smile to Elara's face, she had been wondering how long she was going to need to end this hug, and her grandmother’s voice felt like a saviour in her torment. Elara lifted her head slowly, masking her happiness with sadness as she peered into Eli’s sad eyes. “I have to go now, babe– I will be back soon.”
“I am very certain Eli is not deaf, and he clearly heard your grandma call for you, so I see no reason he should have a problem with that.” Luccien Morreau said angrily, his voice so loud that the ever gossipy guest could hear.
“Unclee!! – Please!!” Elara turned to face her uncle, her face filled with sadness.
“Don’t get worked up, love.” Eli said to his wife as he turned her towards him, planting a light peck on her forehead, making Elara close her eyes immediately, like a girl flustered from shyness due to a kiss like that from someone she loved, but in reality she had closed her eyes immediately to conceal the disgust that had passed through her eyes at the thought of this poor man’s lips on her skin.
“I would love to ask Mr Eli to stop from keeping our guest waiting and allow the beautiful lady I had called to walk up here.” Genevieve said from where she stood, spitting Eli’s name like a curse and poison on her tongue, making the guest whisper harsh words against Eli among themselves, some of their voices not so much as a whisper.
Genevieve smiled from where she was, happy that what she had said was producing the reaction she wanted. She wanted the guest here to see that she had no regard for Eli and didn’t consider him her son-in-law, so they could approach Elara without restraint and try to win her heart.
Elara was her most favoured granddaughter, and she had been extremely annoyed when she learned that she had agreed to marry Eli, Elara was beautiful and could get any man she wanted, so had been confused as to why she would settle for Eli, therefore she had made it her sole purpose to rectify Elara’s mistake, and get her to marry someone that was truly deserving of her granddaughter.
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Two hundred and forty - six
The chamber still hummed as though it had just exhaled after holding its breath for centuries.Light drifted across the walls in slow, deliberate waves—blueprints folding into themselves, rewriting, expanding, then collapsing again like a living thought refusing to settle. Eli stood at the center of it all, the weight of what he had just been told still settling into places in his mind that didn’t usually stay quiet for long.“You are the system.”The words didn’t leave him. They stayed suspended in the air like a verdict that hadn’t yet decided whether it was truth or trap.A distant sound broke through it.Footsteps.Closer now.Not rushed. Controlled. Military controlled. Aurelius-controlled.Eli didn’t turn immediately. His eyes remained on the floating architecture in front of him, watching as entire continents of infrastructure unfolded like a map that had been waiting for permission to be seen.Then the chamber door behind him shifted again.A soft mechanical click.Then silenc
Two hundred and forty five
Eli Aurelius returned to Rome without announcement.,not even Carlos knew. The information of the past few days had been reeling in his head so he knew he still needed time off from people, what he knew he couldn't escape from though was resetting the code Selene had soo often spoken about and Leonhart had made reference to once in his diary. So when he had been done going through his mother's diary, he knew it was time to return to Rome.No arrival logs were triggered under his real identity. No executive alerts rippled through the Aurelius network. No security detail greeted him at the private landing bay carved beneath the city.To the world, Eli Aurelius was still dead. To his friends and allies, he was still on some Island playing catch-up with his father.The plane explosion had done its job perfectly—clean, absolute, irreversible in the eyes of anyone watching the surface reports.That was exactly how he wanted it.The car that carried him through the underground access tunnels
Two hundred and forty four
Leonhart was halfway back to the house when he felt it. It wasn't a sound or any movement. It wassomething heavier, like a shift in the air itself. Like things had changed since the last time he had been there with Eli.He slowed his steps as he reached the entrance corridor, the soft lighting embedded in the stone walls flickering faintly as he passed. The island had always been quiet, but this quiet felt different. Pressed. Intentional.Like something inside the house had collapsed inward.He stepped through the final archway.And stopped.Eli was seated at the table.The diary was open in front of him, pages slightly bent as though they had been gripped too tightly. One hand rested on the edge of the table, the other hung loosely at his side, fingers still trembling like they hadn’t received the message from his brain yet.Eli wasn’t reading anymore. He was staring at nothing. Trying to process what he had read. One he wasn't certain he understood, or even wanted to.Leonhart didn’
Two hundred and forty - three
The next morning arrived with a kind of peace Eli had almost forgotten existed.For the first time in years, he woke without being dragged from sleep by alarms, notifications, or crises demanding his attention.No emergency reports. No market disasters. No encrypted messages from Phoenix. No updates about Meridian.Just silence.Warm sunlight streamed through the towering glass walls of the island residence, painting the ancient stone and polished wood in shades of gold. Eli lay still beneath the blankets for a few moments, simply listening.The distant crash of waves against the shore.Wind rustling through the trees.Birds calling somewhere beyond the cliffs.Ordinary sounds. Human sounds.The sort of sounds that had disappeared from his life long ago.Then another sensation reached him.The smell of food.Something rich and savory. Something freshly cooked. Something incredible.His stomach immediately reminded him how little he'd eaten the day before.Following the scent, he left
Two hundred and forty - two
For several seconds, Eli forgot how to breathe.The image hovered in front of him, suspended in golden light. Leonhart Aurelius.Alive.Not a photograph. Not a recovered recording. Not another ghost hidden inside a file.Alive.Standing on the shoreline as waves crashed against black stone.Eli stared so intensely that his eyes began to burn. Then movement appeared behind Leonhart. A second figure emerged from the morning mist.A woman.The moment she stepped into view, something inside Eli seemed to stop. The world narrowed. The chamber disappeared. The drone feed became the only thing that existed.The woman wasn't young, yet there was something strikingly familiar about her. Her posture. The shape of her face. The way she stood beside Leonhart as though she belonged there.A thousand impossible thoughts crashed through Eli's mind. His throat tightened. For one reckless moment, hope became something dangerous.The feed continued silently. The woman glanced toward the ocean. Leonhart
Two hundred and forty one
The world mourned surprisingly fast.For the first two days, Eli watched it happen from behind a wall of encrypted screens hidden deep beneath New York. Every major network carried the same story. Different countries, different languages, different anchors, yet somehow every broadcast felt identical.The Death of Eli Aurelius.A photograph appeared on screen. A solemn voice followed. Footage of a destroyed aircraft over the Atlantic played on repeat.No survivors. No body recovered.Experts discussed his legacy. Economists debated the impact his death would have on global markets. Politicians delivered carefully crafted statements. Corporate leaders expressed their condolences with practiced sincerity.The world mourned. At least publicly.Eli sat alone in the hidden Aurelius residence, staring at a memorial dedicated to himself. The experience felt strangely unreal, like attending his own funeral while nobody else knew he was in the room.Phoenix projected dozens of live feeds around
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