"Where are we?"
It was the first question Elara asked when the haze of sleep finally cleared from her eyes.
She blinked slowly, her senses adjusting, and realized she was lying on a wide couch in what appeared to be a private lounge.
The air smelled faintly of leather and wood polish. Sunlight filtered through tall windows, casting clean lines across the floor.
A bodyguard standing near the door stepped forward and bowed respectfully.
"Mr. George had a meeting here, Miss Elara," he said. "You were asleep, so he brought you along. He has gone to attend to the guests."
Elara sat up, rubbing her temples. Her body still felt heavy, exhaustion clinging to her bones. Too much had happened in too little time; besides, her body needed the rest after she lost....
She took a deep breath to keep the sadness away.
She had asked her brother to take her to her apartment—the one she had bought back when she was still studying, before she erased herself for marriage. That place was hers. Neutral. Quiet.
But perhaps George had other plans.
She exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of her nose.
While she wanted to meet her parents, she didn't want them to worry too much, so she decided to handle things first before letting them know exactly what she had in mind for her future.
Because she already knew what she intended to do.
She would take back everything she had abandoned.
Including her position in the Frost Group.
Three years of dormancy didn't erase the ability. It only delayed it. And if she wanted to take over the international branch, she would have to prove—to herself most of all—that she was still capable.
Nothing could be worse than the life she had just escaped. A marriage where she alone existed.
And for starters, she wanted to take back what she lost to that man and his so-called best friend. Her dignity.
She lifted her gaze to the bodyguard.
"You," she said calmly. "What's your name?"
He straightened instinctively. "Mr. An, Miss."
She raised an eyebrow. That was obviously a code name.
"…Antonio," he corrected quickly.
Elara nodded, studying him from head to toe before she bobbed her head up and down in approval.
"Antonio," she said, thoughtfully. "You'll be my bodyguard from now on."
His eyes widened in shock.
She stood, smoothing her dress, only to notice the man's ears and neck had turned red.
Her brows furrowed.
"What exactly are you imagining?" she asked, a bit amused.
"I'm not hiring you for a romance novel. Do you suspect my intentions?"
Antonio nearly panicked, shaking his head vigorously. "No, Miss—Madam—of course not. I just… I heard you never choose bodyguards easily. It's an honor. I'll need to inform Mr. George about the change and—"
Elara watched him stumble over his words, a faint smile appearing despite herself.
He wasn't wrong.
She had always been selective about who she allowed near her. That was why so few people even knew she was the Frost family's daughter. Apart from her eighteenth birthday years ago, she had stayed deliberately out of sight.
And yet—she had thrown all that caution away for one man.
A man who gave her three years of neglect in return for thirty seconds of heroism.
Her brother was right. If she was grateful, there were many other ways to express it. Did she really need to sacrifice her three golden years on that kind of man, who never gave her three days' worth of attention in the three years?
A scoff escaped her lips.
Antonio fell silent immediately.
"I'll inform my brother myself," she said. "You can take the day off. Rest while you can."
Because things were about to get busy.
She picked up her purse and stepped out of the lounge, which George had declared off-limits to guests.
As she walked, she realized the place wasn't a hotel or a private club.
It was a horse-riding arena. Her spirits lifted up slightly at the realization.
Wide fields stretched ahead, dotted with stables and spectators. Well-dressed guests gathered in small clusters, conversations hushed but intense.
Why was it so crowded today?
She stopped a staff member nearby. "Is something special happening?"
The woman looked irritated at first, then paused when she noticed Elara's attire. Her posture shifted instantly.
"I'm not entirely sure, Miss," she said carefully. "There's a rumor a major business figure will appear today. Many people here are hoping to strike a deal."
Elara nodded, thanked her, and turned away.
If George was here for business, she might as well occupy herself.
Horse riding had always calmed her.
She walked toward the ranch.
"Can you show me some horses for the ride?" she asked the stable keeper, unsure if she should go and choose that horse herself.
The stable keeper, however, sighed. "You'll need a token. Many guests are waiting."
Elara nodded in understanding and went to collect one. Just as she turned away—
"Miss Elara?"
The voice cut through the air like a needle.
Her steps paused.
She turned slowly.
Beatrice stood there, eyes wide with feigned surprise. Andrew was beside her. Jason stood just behind them.
Elara's expression remained neutral.
"Miss Beatrice," she said calmly.
Andrew froze when he saw her.
"What are you doing here?" he demanded. "Don't tell me you followed me."
His gaze flicked sharply to Jason, wondering if he leaked his schedule.
Jason immediately shook his head in defense.
Andrew rubbed his temples. "If you're here to make a scene, don't. I have an important meeting. Leave."
Jason stepped forward.
Elara didn't move.
Beatrice blinked innocently. "If you're misunderstanding something, please don't. We're here for business. You shouldn't trouble Andrew like this."
Elara smiled faintly.
She had heard similar criticisms countless times. Even when she used to appear because she cared about Andrew's health and brought home-cooked food, she was always portrayed as a jealous wife who couldn't keep her emotions in check.
Back then, she always used to blame herself when she reached home. That she did something wrong, took the wrong action, or maybe she was stupid in the romance aspect.
Her love made her lower her self-respect, her dignity, her talent, and… Elara took a deep breath.
Not anymore.
"You're mistaken," Elara said simply.
Beatrice tilted her head. "Perhaps Andrew is mistaken too. This must be a coincidence."
Andrew's irritation deepened.
"We need to talk," he said sharply.
He remembered it clearly. Seeing her carried by another man. How could she even allow it. Did she forget she was married to him? How could she humiliate him like that? What if the media has captured her like that?
Pathetic!
"We have nothing to discuss," Elara replied and turned toward the stables.
"Elara!" Andrew grabbed her wrist.
Several heads turned.
His steel-like grip made Elara freeze in her place for a second before she snapped her hand out of his grip, making him stumble a bit.
Andrew looked at her in surprise. She never openly retaliated against him like that.
"Don't you dare," Elara seethed.
Andrew stared at her, stunned.
"I know you're angry," he said stiffly. "I'll explain. Go home first."
Elara laughed softly in mockery.
Before he could continue, a voice interrupted.
"If you're done blocking the line, some of us would like our turn."
Andrew turned sharply—
And froze.
A tall man stood behind the speaker. His presence was commanding, his gaze cold and unreadable.
Elara felt it instantly.
That pressure.
She glanced at him briefly. Their eyes met.
Elara observed the man, who looked back at her with a much stronger intensity. His eyes were cold, almost lifeless, as if they never held any emotions, and she couldn't help but look away when she saw something flicker in those cold eyes, almost like recognition.
She just nodded at the new person before leaving, his aura telling her he was someone important, someone she shouldn't trifle with.
Behind her, Jason started to speak.
"Mr—"
But the man had already turned, leaving the trio speechless.