The black town car glided to a halt in front of the towering glass-and-steel monolith of the Stirling Group headquarters.
Before the driver could even open her door, a swarm of reporters descended on the vehicle like vultures. Camera flashes exploded against the tinted glass.
Elliana took a deep breath, grabbed the insulated breakfast bag, and pushed the door open.
Microphones were immediately shoved into her face. The noise was deafening.
"Miss Lewis! Is it true your marriage to Damon Stirling is already over?" a reporter named Grant Fletcher shouted over the din, practically shoving his recorder against her chin. "Rumor has it you were discussing divorce terms on your wedding night!"
In her past life, the flashing lights and aggressive questions had triggered her anxiety. She had screamed at them, swatted the cameras away, and stormed into the building looking like a deranged, spoiled brat-giving them exactly the headline they wanted.
This time, Elliana stopped. She stood tall, her posture impeccable in her beige dress. A polite, radiant smile bloomed on her face.
She gently pushed Grant Fletcher's microphone down with two manicured fingers.
"I'm sorry," Elliana said, her voice smooth and carrying perfectly over the crowd. "My husband is waiting for me to join him for breakfast. I really can't keep him waiting."
She emphasized the words my husband and breakfast.
The reporters fell dead silent. The aggressive shouting died in their throats. They stared at her, completely thrown off balance. This wasn't the hostile, Damon-hating heiress they had been told to expect. She looked like a woman deeply in love.
Taking advantage of their shock, Elliana slipped past them, flanked by the building's security guards, and walked through the revolving glass doors.
The lobby of the Stirling Group was a cavernous expanse of white marble and chrome. Elliana walked straight to the massive front reception desk.
The receptionist looked up. Recognition flashed in her eyes, followed instantly by a wall of professional caution. "Mrs. Stirling," the receptionist said, though her eyes held a guarded, almost wary glint, clearly anticipating a tantrum. "How can I help you?"
"I'm here to see Damon," Elliana said, keeping her smile in place.
The receptionist shifted uncomfortably. "I apologize, but Mr. Stirling is in a crucial board meeting. He left strict instructions not to be disturbed by anyone."
It was exactly what Elliana expected. Damon was actively avoiding her, assuming she was coming to cause a scene.
Instead of slamming her hands on the desk and screaming, Elliana simply nodded. "That's perfectly fine. I'll just wait for him here."
She pointed to the sleek leather sofas in the waiting area. "I won't be in the way."
The receptionist blinked, clearly not knowing how to handle this calm, compliant version of Elliana. "Uh... alright."
Elliana walked over to the sofa, sat down, and placed the breakfast bag neatly on the glass coffee table. She crossed her legs and waited.
Her quiet presence sent ripples of whispered gossip throughout the lobby. Employees walked by, casting covert glances at the CEO's notorious new wife, who was sitting as still and patient as a statue.
An hour ticked by. Elliana's back ached slightly, but she didn't move.
Finally, the chime of the private VIP elevator echoed through the lobby. The polished steel doors slid open.
Damon Stirling stepped out.
He was surrounded by a phalanx of nervous-looking executives, but he eclipsed them all. He wore a bespoke charcoal suit that hugged his broad shoulders perfectly. His face was a masterpiece of sharp angles and cold, ruthless authority. The sheer power rolling off him made the air in the lobby feel thin.
His executive assistant, Campbell Gibson, walked closely beside him, leaning in to whisper something in Damon's ear.
Damon's dark eyes instantly snapped toward the waiting area.
When his gaze locked onto Elliana sitting on the sofa, a microscopic flicker of shock broke through his icy facade. He had expected her to be screaming at the front desk. He had expected shattered glass and a PR nightmare. He hadn't expected her to be sitting there quietly, holding a paper bag.
But the shock vanished in a millisecond. His jaw clenched tight. His footsteps faltered for a fraction of a second, a complex, turbulent emotion flashing through the deep, dark depths of his eyes. But he quickly forced it down, his expression hardening back into an impenetrable mask. He finally tore his gaze away, deciding it was safer to keep walking straight toward the exit rather than risk falling into whatever trap she had set.
The executives noticed Elliana, their eyes darting nervously between her and their boss, but no one dared to speak.
As Damon reached the doors, Elliana stood up. She didn't run, but she walked with urgent purpose.
Just as Campbell reached out to push the glass door open for his boss, Elliana stepped directly into Damon's path.
Campbell froze. The executives stopped breathing.
Damon looked down at her. His eyes were like chips of black ice. There was no warmth, no affection-only a deep, guarded distance.
Elliana felt a sharp pain in her chest at that look, but she forced her brightest smile. She held the insulated bag up toward his chest.
"Damon," she said, her voice sweet and entirely natural, as if they did this every day. "I knew you didn't eat this morning. I brought you breakfast."
