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Chapter 3 - Chapter 3 - The Shifting Ground.

The next few days unfolded in uneasy quiet.

Elena went through her routine like clockwork — work, home, a few polite conversations. But underneath the calm surface, her mind was a storm that refused to rest.

Every time she passed Adrian in the office halls, she felt the faint pull of something she wished she could silence. His gaze always lingered just a little too long, as if searching for the woman he once knew. But that woman was gone — burned to ash along with her old life.

Now, all that remained was someone who had seen death and come back to rewrite the story.

That Thursday morning, the company buzzed with preparations for the Cole Industries Architecture Gala — a high-profile event to celebrate their newest project proposal. It was supposed to be a night of elegance, champagne, and power.

For Elena, it would also be an opportunity.

She needed to see the people who had been closest to her before her "accident" — the ones who might still hold secrets. And tonight, they'd all be in one room.

She closed her laptop and leaned back in her chair, considering her plan. She would go, stay unnoticed, observe. Nothing more.

At least, that's what she told herself.

By evening, the sky had turned a deep shade of violet as city lights blinked to life.

Elena stood before her mirror, adjusting the soft black gown she hadn't worn in years. The fabric clung to her form just enough to remind her of who she used to be — confident, radiant, before love had turned to ruin.

She pinned her hair up loosely, a few strands falling to frame her face.

For a moment, she didn't recognize the woman staring back. There was power in her eyes now — quiet, dangerous power.

Her phone buzzed with a message.

It was Ryan.

Ryan: "You're going to the gala, right?"

Elena: "Yes. Why?"

Ryan: "Be careful. I've been hearing things. Some people don't want you asking questions."

Elena frowned, typing back quickly.

Elena: "I'm not afraid of ghosts."

Ryan: "You should be. Sometimes they're still alive."

A chill ran down her spine. But she slipped the phone into her purse and took a steadying breath. Whatever danger waited tonight, she'd face it head-on.

The ballroom was already filled when she arrived — laughter, music, the soft clinking of glasses.

Every corner sparkled with wealth and power, but beneath the glamour lay a cold current of pretense. People smiled too wide, spoke too politely, watched too closely.

As Elena stepped in, heads turned. She felt the shift in the air — the quiet gasp of recognition.

She hadn't attended one of these events in years.

"Elena Brooks," someone whispered. "She looks… incredible."

Maya appeared beside the refreshment table, wearing a shimmering silver dress that could blind under the chandeliers. She smiled when she saw Elena — too sweet, too sharp.

"Elena," she greeted, air-kissing her cheek. "You look stunning. I was beginning to think you'd become a hermit."

Elena returned the smile with practiced grace. "I've just been selective about where I show up."

Maya laughed, her eyes flicking over Elena's gown, searching for something to criticize — and finding nothing.

"Well, tonight should be fun," Maya said. "Adrian will be giving his speech soon. You remember how charming he gets with a microphone."

Elena's pulse tightened, but her voice stayed steady. "Yes. Some things never change."

As Maya walked away, Elena watched her for a moment — the confident sway of her walk, the way people gathered around her.

But there was something in Maya's eyes tonight, something nervous beneath the gloss.

Interesting.

"Elena."

The sound of her name in that voice froze her for half a second.

She turned slowly.

Adrian stood a few feet away, dressed in a tailored charcoal suit, looking every bit the man who once ruled both her heart and her destruction.

For a moment, the world seemed to hush.

"You came," he said softly, almost as if he hadn't expected her to.

"I was invited," she replied, lifting her glass. "Would've been rude not to."

He smiled faintly. "You always did care about manners."

"And you always did care about appearances," she countered, tone light but edged.

A flicker of something — guilt, maybe — passed through his eyes.

"Elena, I wanted to talk after the meeting the other day, but you—"

"Didn't want to," she finished for him. "Yes, I remember."

He exhaled slowly. "Why do I feel like you're punishing me for something I don't remember doing?"

Her heart gave a painful twist.

If only he knew.

"Maybe it's your conscience trying to catch up," she said softly, then turned toward the crowd.

"Wait," he said, gently taking her arm. "You've changed."

She met his eyes — steady, unreadable. "That's what happens when people break."

And before he could say another word, she walked away.

As she moved through the ballroom, a familiar voice stopped her.

"Ms. Brooks?"

She turned to see Mr. Lennox, one of the company's board members — older, calm, the kind of man whose smile never reached his eyes.

"Pleasure to see you again," he said, shaking her hand. "I was just telling Mr. Cole the other day how promising your last design proposal was."

"Thank you," she said politely.

He leaned in slightly. "Just be careful whose promises you believe, Ms. Brooks. In this company, loyalty changes faster than the stock market."

Before she could respond, he walked away, leaving her standing with the faint chill of unease.

Hours later, when the event began to thin out, Elena stepped onto the balcony to breathe.

The night air was cool, the city alive beneath her feet.

For a moment, she let herself relax. The soft hum of music drifted through the open doors. Inside, she could hear laughter — Maya's laugh, bright and false.

Then, behind her, a familiar voice broke the calm.

"Beautiful view," Adrian said quietly.

She didn't turn. "You always did like the high ground."

He stepped closer, not enough to touch her, but enough for her to feel the warmth of him behind her.

"Elena," he said, voice low. "Whatever's happening between us — you can talk to me."

She turned then, meeting his eyes under the dim light.

There was sincerity there, real and raw, and for a heartbeat, her anger faltered.

"I can't," she whispered.

"Why not?"

"Because the last time I trusted you," she said, voice breaking just a little, "I died for it."

Adrian froze — confusion and hurt flashing across his face. "What do you mean?"

But she stepped back, steadying herself. "Forget it."

Then she turned and walked away, leaving him standing on the balcony, alone with the questions he didn't even know how to ask yet.

That night, as Elena sat by her window, the city lights flickering across her face, she opened her notebook again.

Beside Step 4, she added another line in ink:

Step 5: Find out who really wanted me gone — and why Adrian doesn't remember.

She closed the book gently, her heart pounding.

The ground beneath her life was shifting — and she was no longer sure who would still be standing when it settled.

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