Chapter 268:

They slid into the booth. Aurora kicked Elias under the table.

“Lovebirds?” she hissed. “Really?”

Elias shrugged, picking up the sticky menu. “It’s easier than explaining ‘Business Partner who I am currently obsessed with.’ Besides, Sal looks happy.”

“You are impossible,” Aurora muttered, but she didn’t pull her hand away from where it rested near his on the table.

“I’ll have the short stack, blueberries, side of bacon, extra crispy,” Elias told the waitress before she even asked. “And she’ll have the lumberjack special, eggs over easy, rye toast, no butter on the toast, coffee black.”

The waitress scribbled it down. “Got it, hon.”

Aurora stared at him. “How do you know my egg preference?”

“I told you,” Elias said, his eyes darkening. “I pay attention.”

While they waited, Aurora’s phone buzzed on the table. She flipped it over.

Instagram Notification: VivianKensington tagged you in a post.

Aurora groaned. She opened it.

It was a digital invitation. Elaborate, gold script on a white background.

The Kensington Charity Gala

Celebrating Art, Truth, and Family.

Special Guest: Sir Alistair Caldwell.

Caption: @AuroraVance If you have nothing to hide, come celebrate with us. Let’s clear the air. Family should support family. #Truth #PhoenixRising

It was a trap. A public, glittering, high-stakes trap. If Aurora refused, she looked guilty and cowardly. If she went, she was walking into a room full of people who thought she was a thief, with Vivian holding the microphone.

New updates live on gαlησνeℓs․com

A comment caught her eye.

@SirAlistairCaldwell: I look forward to finally meeting the true artist behind the inspiration. Art reveals the soul.

Sir Alistair thought he was supporting Vivian. He had no idea he was about to walk into a crossfire.

Aurora turned the phone to show Elias.

“She’s calling me out,” Aurora said.

Elias read the screen. His jaw tightened. “Don’t go. It’s a circus. She has the home turf. She has the crowd.”

“I have to,” Aurora said. Her eyes shifted. The warmth of the diner vanished, replaced by the cold calculation of the strategist. “It’s the perfect stage. She wants an audience? I’ll give her a show.”

She typed a reply in the comments.

@AuroraVance: I’ll be there. Save me a slice of cake. And make sure the lighting is good.

She hit send.

The food arrived. Elias picked up his knife and fork. Without asking, he reached over to her plate and began cutting her pancakes into perfect, bite-sized pieces.

It was such a domestic, intimate gesture that Aurora forgot to breathe. She watched his large hands, usually signing million-dollar contracts, carefully navigating a stack of fluff and syrup.

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