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CHAPTER 182
The days that followed were quieter. The sharp arguments had faded, replaced by a careful stillness that felt fragile but promising. Elsa kept to her routine of small acts of service, thoughtful gestures, but Luca began to notice more than just the effort. He noticed her patience. She didn’t push, didn’t ask for more than he was willing to give, and that, strangely, made him want to give something back. One afternoon, Luca was in the estate’s workshop, repairing an old clock his father had once used as a teaching tool, he never threw it away as it held memories to his dad. He preferred quiet when working, so when Elsa appeared in the doorway, he almost told her to leave. But she didn’t step inside immediately. “I used to hate that clock,” she said softly, smiling faintly. Luca paused, glancing up. “Yeah? Why?” “Because it never stopped ticking. Even at night. I remember thinking, ‘How can anyone sleep with that sound in their head?’” Luca chuckled under his breath.
CHAPTER 181
The estate had grown accustomed to Elsa’s quiet presence. She moved like someone who didn’t want to disturb the air itself, careful and deliberate, her footsteps soft and her voice lower than usual. Yet, every day she tried—small gestures that didn’t ask for much but quietly asked to be seen. One morning, Amelia stepped into the garden to find Elsa kneeling by the rose bushes, her hands gloved and covered in soil. “You don’t have to do that,” Amelia said gently. Elsa smiled faintly, brushing dirt off her knee. “The gardeners take care of it, I know. But I wanted to plant something new. Roses grow deep roots, they’re resilient.” Amelia tilted her head. “Trying to send a message?” “Maybe,” Elsa admitted, her eyes distant. “When you’ve lived your life afraid to plant anything permanent, putting something in the ground feels like hope.” Amelia crouched down beside her. “You’re trying.” “Yes.” Elsa hesitated. “But I can’t tell if Luca even sees it.” “He sees everything
CHAPTER 180
Luca stood there, leaning against the doorway, arms crossed. “You don’t have to do that. The staff handles breakfast.” “I know,” she said, her hands trembling slightly as she set a pancake on a plate. “But I wanted to make something… for you. Something I haven’t done in a very long time.” He glanced at the table—three plates set, one clearly meant for Dorian. “You’re wasting your time if you think he’ll join you,” Luca said flatly. Her face fell, but she nodded. “I thought… maybe he’d come around.” Luca stepped closer, his voice soft but edged. “You left him to rot in that quarry. You think pancakes will fix that?” She flinched but held his gaze. “No… I don’t think anything can fix that. I’m not asking for forgiveness overnight. I just want a chance to show I’m not the same woman I was.” Luca looked at her for a long moment, then sat down. “Fine. Let’s see what twenty years of regret tastes like.” It was harsh, but she didn’t react, only placed a plate in front of him a
CHAPTER 179
The estate felt heavier with Elsa’s presence, not hostile, just weighted with the kind of silence that carried old memories. Luca sat at the edge of the balcony that evening, his elbows resting on his knees. Amelia joined him quietly, sitting beside him without speaking. She knew his thoughts were tangled; he’d barely spoken since Elsa had shown up. “Say it,” Amelia said softly. Luca glanced at her. “Say what?” “That you don’t know whether to hug her or tell her to leave.” A faint smile tugged at his lips. “You read me too well.” The next morning, Luca walked into the kitchen to find Elsa at the counter, wearing an apron, quietly chopping vegetables. The scent of onions and garlic filled the air. She looked up and froze, a knife in one hand. “I… thought I’d make breakfast. Something you used to like when you were little. Do you remember spinach frittatas?” Luca didn’t answer right away. “I don’t remember much from back then.” Her shoulders slumped slightly, but she
CHAPTER 178
The night air carried a rare stillness as Luca held Amelia on the balcony. The moon hung low, casting silver over the gardens below, where security lights traced the outlines of a home that had survived too many storms. But peace never lingered long in the Ashford bloodline. **** The Next Morning Wilson’s voice came quietly over the intercom. “Sir… you have a visitor. She says her name is Elsa Salvador.” Luca stiffened. Amelia, brushing her hair by the window, turned to look at him. “Your mother?” He didn’t answer immediately. The word mother still felt strange in connection to her—an echo of something he had never truly known. He rose from the chair, his expression neutral, but inside his pulse quickened. “Let her in,” he said finally, voice controlled. Elsa stood in the marble foyer, her frame delicate yet upright, wearing a simple cream dress as if shedding her life of opulence. Her eyes sought him instantly, a blend of awe and guilt. “Luca…” she whispered, the n
CHAPTER 177
The morning wind carried the faint hum of the private jet’s engines as it idled on the runway. Salvador froze at Luca’s voice, then slowly turned, his face pale under the rising sun. He looked older now, the stress of losing his empire written in deep lines across his face. “Going somewhere?” Luca repeated, his tone soft but sharp enough to cut. Salvador tried to smirk, but it faltered halfway. “A man like me doesn’t stay in one place for too long, boy. You of all people should know that.” Luca stepped forward, Amelia at his side, her eyes fixed coldly on the man who had tried to destroy her life. “A man like you runs when everything collapses,” Luca said. “And it has. Your money’s frozen. Your people flipped. Your politicians abandoned you. You don’t even have enough men left to guard your own plane.” Salvador’s eyes darted around, confirming what Luca had already said—there were no guards near the hangar now, just two men who looked more scared than loyal. “You think thi
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