Chapter 113
No.1
August guided Allena down the final steps.
The Chief of Surgery practically tripped over his own feet rushing to the head of the massive wooden table. He pulled out the heavy, carved chair at the head of the table, bowing his head slightly.
"Please,Mr. Chambers, sit here," the Chief offered,his voice dripping with sycophantic desperation.
August sat down. Allena immediately took the seat directly to his right. She acted like the undisputed queen of the castle, waving a manicured hand at a passing server to pour August a cup of black coffee. She shot a triumphant, gloating look across the table toward Elisa.
The atmosphere in the lobby shifted. The casual morning energy vanished, replaced by a rigid,suffocating tension. The JHU doctors sat up straighter, terrified of making a mistake in front of the billionaire.
The Chief of Surgery, still stinging from the public humiliation of Elisa's data-driven takedown, saw a chance to regain favor by shifting the attack back
onto her.
The Chief picked up his glass of orange juice.He forced a casual chuckle and looked directly at August.
No.2
"Mr. Chambers," the Chief said, his voice carrying across the quiet room. "Before you came down,we were actually just discussing Miss Wilder's mysterious husband."
August's hand froze halfway to his coffee cup.
The muscles in his broad shoulders locked. His dark, piercing eyes slowly lifted, shooting straight down the length of the table to lock onto Elisa.
Elisa did not look up. She kept her head down, her silver knife slicing methodically through the fried egg on her plate. Her movements were perfectly smooth, entirely mechanical, as if she hadn't heard her own name.
The Chief, completely oblivious to the lethal tension, kept talking.
"We were just saying," the Chief laughed, "that every man in New York looks entirely inadequate standing next to you, sir. I'm sure Elisa's husband is no exception."
Tessa shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She
cleared her throat, trying to change the subject."The weatherlooks like it might clear up for the symposium-"
No.3
"Oh, I'm actually very curious," Allena interrupted.Her voice was high-pitched and coated in fake,sugary innocence.
Allena rested her chin on her hands and stared directly at Elisa.
"Tell us, Elisa," Allena cooed, her eyes flashing with pure malice. "What kind of man is he? He must be so... unique. I mean, that wedding ring is so...simple. It looks like something his father would have picked out. Didn't August ever bother to buy you something that reflects his own taste? Oh, wait.I meant, didn't your husband bother? Is he someone you have to hide in the dark?"①
The implication was brutal and obvious. Allena was publicly painting Elisa as a desperate woman trapped in a miserable, loveless marriage, or worse,a mistress to an ugly old man.
A few of the JHU doctors let out low, knowing chuckles. They stared at Elisa, waiting for her to break.
Tessa's chest expanded as she took a sharp breath. She planted her hands on the table,
preparing to verbally defend her colleague from the blatant bullying.
Under the table, Elisa's hand shot out. She gripped Tessa's wrist with bruising force, pinning her in place. She shot the young researcher a single,freezing warning glance. Do not engage.
No.4
Then, Elisa slowly placed her knife and fork down on the porcelain plate.
She lifted her chin. Her black eyes met Allena's mocking gaze. Her face was a mask of absolute,terrifying calm.
"You are absolutely right, Allena," Elisa said. Her voice was flat, carrying no anger, only a cold,clinical certainty. "He is exactly that. A hidden piece of trash."
The entire dining table gasped. The sound of breathing stopped.
Nobody expected a woman to describe her own husband with such raw, visceral disgust in a public setting.
August's face turned the color of a bruised storm cloud. The blood drained from his lips. His fingers clamped around the handle of his ceramic coffee mug so hard the joints popped. He knew exactly
who she was talking about. She was looking right at his mistress and calling him trash to his face.
But he was trapped. He had built the lie of his single status. He could not scream, I am her husband! without destroying his own narrative.
No.5
Allena, completely missing the subtext, thought Elisa was just pathetically self-deprecating. Her smile widened into a grotesque display of victory.She turned to August, seeking validation.
A young JHU researcher, eager to join the bullying,leaned forward.
"Well, regardless of Elisa's situation," the researcher said, raising his coffee mug toward Allena, "Miss Mills is definitely the luckiest woman here. After all, we are sitting with the future Mrs.Chambers."
The title future Mrs. Chambers echoed loudly in the cavernous room.
Every single person at the table froze. They looked at August. In the brutal, calculated world of Wall Street, billionaires never allowed anyone to use legally binding titles like "fiancée" or "Mrs." unless the contracts were already signed.
August stared at Elisa. He saw the comnplete,dead
emptiness in her eyes. The urge to punish her for calling him trash overrode every logical circuit in his brain.
He chose to use the weapon handed to him.
No.6
August did not correct the researcher.Instead,he remained perfectly silent. He slowly lifted his hand and gently tucked a stray blonde curl behind Allena's ear.
It was a physical, undeniable confirmation of the title.
The table erupted. The JHU doctors clapped their hands, raising their glasses, offering loud, fawning congratulations to the "future boss lady."
Allena's eyes filled with fake, happy tears. She looked at Elisa, her face glowing with the ultimate,undisputed victory.
Elisa sat perfectly still. She watched her legal husband of seven years publicly hand her title, her dignity, and her place in the world to the woman who had destroyed her family.
She felt no rage. She felt no urge to cry.
Her chest simply hollowed out, leaving nothing but a cold, empty cavity. The event didn't feel like a final snap, but like another layer of ice forming over
a frozen lake, making the darkness below even more profound and unreachable.O
No.7
Elisa picked up her white linen napkin. She elegantly dabbed the corner of her mouth,her movements as precise as a machine.
She turned her head to Tessa.
"I'm full," Elisa whispered, her voice completely dead. "Let's go to the conference room and prep the data."
She pushed her chair back, the wood scraping harshly against the floor, ready to leave the rotting corpses of her past behind.