Chapter 275

No.1

Night fell over Geneva. The hotel's grand ballroom glittered, the lights reflecting off the dark, still surface of the lake outside. The Chambers Group's private welcome gala, an opulent precursor to the official summit with Aethel Intelligence, was underway.

Elisa, no longer hiding behind the alias Faye, sat in her rightful capacity as Aethel's Chief Architect at a VIP table near the front. She wore a simple but lethally elegant black gown, its clean lines a stark contrast to the fussy, ostentatious dresses around her.

At the head table in the center of the room,August sat with a thunderous expression, a storm cloud in a tuxedo. Beside him, dressed in a ridiculously extravagant haute couture gown, was Allena. Her presence at a high-level corporate event was a glaring breach of professional etiquette, a brazen provocation that had already drawn murmurs of disapproval from the Aethel executives.

It was, apparently, Allena's birthday. And she was using that fact to transform a serious business dinner into her own personal coronation.

A team of waiters wheeled a massive, five-tiered fondant cake into the center of the room. The small orchestra hired for the evening began to play a soft, instrumental version of "Happy Birthday."

No.2

Every head in the room turned. A few of August's sycophants, eager to curry favor, started a round of polite applause.

Allena stood, pressing her hands together in a gesture of fake humility. A saccharine smile was plastered on her face as she soaked in the attention.

She picked up a champagne flute and walked to the microphone set up on a small stage.

"Thank you all so much for being here to celebrate with me," she began, her voice dripping with manufactured emotion. "But tonight... tonight has another, even more special meaning for me."

Her eyes locked onto August, her expression turning coy and suggestive.

No.3

"Someone very special promised me that on this day, he would give me a 'promise of forever."

The implication was as subtle as a sledgehammer.A wave of knowing murmurs and chuckles went through the room.

"Proposal! Proposal! Proposal!"

A few people, clearly planted in the audience by Allena's PR team, started the chant. It quickly spread.

The collective gaze of hundreds of the world's most powerful business leaders fell on August, a spotlight of expectation.

No.4

August's hand tightened around his water glass,his knuckles turning white. His jaw was clenched. This was not his plan. This was a public ambush,a hostile takeover of his own event.

But he was trapped. In a room full of partners,investors, and media, a public rejection would be a corporate disaster. It would make him look weak,controlled by a woman he was supposed to be controlling.

So he did nothing. He didn't stop the chanting. He didn't deny her claim. His silence was his consent.

Seeing his tacit approval, Allena's eyes glittered with triumph. She turned her head, her gaze sweeping the room until it found Elisa.

Elisa sat perfectly still. At her table, the atmosphere among the Aethel executives was thick with awkward tension. Everyone in the room--especially

No.5

her own team-knew exactly who she was after the explosive FDA hearings. They knew she was Elisa Wilder, the genius behind Aethel, and more importantly, August Chambers' actual legal wife.

"I can't believe the audacity," one of the senior developers whispered, shooting a fierce glare at the stage before glancing sympathetically at Elisa."Is she trying to force a proposal when everyone knows he's still married to you?"

Elisa watched the grotesque pantomime on stage,a cold, contemptuous smile playing on her lips.

"Let her dream," she murmured in response, her voice low and laced with ice. "It's a business transaction, wrapped in a birthday bow."

But the celebratory atmosphere was suffocating.The air was thick with congratulations for a wedding that hadn't happened, for a love that didn't exist.

No.6

She was August Chambers' legal wife, a fact now known to the entire industry, yet she was being forced to sit there while his mistress orchestrated this circus. The humiliation was no longer about being a secret-it was the sheer public disrespect of it all, a physical thing, a snake coiling in her gut,squeezing the air from her lungs.

Allena, high on her victory, walked off the stage.She moved through the tables, her champagne flute held high, until she stood before Elisa. She looked down at her, her eyes glittering with malice.

"Such a shame you have to watch from the cheap seats, Elisa," Allena whispered, her voice a venomous hiss only Elisa could hear. "Tonight, I get the one thing you never could."

Elisa slowly placed her silver fork on her plate. She lifted her head, her eyes as cold and dead as a winter sky.

"You think you've won?" Elisa's voice was quiet, but it cut through Allena's smugness like a scalpel.

No.7

"You're not winning anything. You're begging for scraps he's throwing to keep you quiet."

The barb hit its mark, but the feeling of being trapped, of being so brazenly disrespected in front of her peers, was reaching a breaking point.