---
Chapter Seventeen: The Shift No One Saw
The dress arrived in a plain black garment bag. No logo. No tag.
Just her name.
Elena stared at it for a full minute before opening it.
Inside was silk. Midnight blue. Clean lines, nothing flashy. But elegant. Quietly powerful. Something fit for a queen.
The kind of thing Isabella would never have chosen.
The kind of thing she might.
There was a note inside. No card. Just one line, handwritten:
"You don't need a costume."
A smile broke out,turning into a grin and a small carefree laugh.
She didn't have to guess who sent it.
---
The gala was three nights away.
The house started to shift in small ways—new deliveries, extra staff, Ashley moving with silent precision between rooms.
Aiden didn't mention it. Didn't remind her of the event, or press her to attend.
But he also didn't hide the fact that it mattered.
That night, Elena sat in the corner of the living room, feet tucked under her, book in hand.
Aiden walked in, jacket slung over one arm, hair slightly tousled like he'd run a hand through it too many times.
She looked up. He looked tired,And painfully handsome…
"You okay?" she asked.
He blinked. Maybe surprised she noticed.
"Long meeting," he said. "They're pushing me to make a statement at the gala."
"About what?"
"About us," he said.
The word sat between them like something fragile.
"They want confirmation that everything's... stable," he added reluctantly looking intensely at her,like he wanted to see inside her mind
Elena closed her book. "So lie prettier. Smile for the cameras. That kind of thing?"
He didn't respond right away.
Then: "Something like that."
She watched him. "And if I don't smile?"
Aiden met her eyes. "Then I guess they'll just have to live with the truth."
That threw her.
It wasn't romantic. Wasn't a vow.
But it was the first time he didn't ask her to play the part.
---
The next afternoon, Elena walked into one of the rarely used sitting rooms and found someone already there.
A very beautiful woman. Sharp suit. Colder smile.
"Elena, right?" the woman said, standing. "I'm Celeste. I work with Aiden. Legal affairs."
Elena didn't shake her hand. Just nodded. "Is he expecting you?"
"No. I stopped by to drop some papers. Thought I'd say hello."
Her tone was polite. Her eyes weren't.
"I have to say," Celeste continued, "you're not what I expected."
Elena raised an eyebrow. "And what did you expect?" she asked with her arms crossed under her breast
Celeste smiled. "Something more... polished." she said slyly,her smile looking too innocent for the venom coming out of her mouth.
The insult landed soft, but deliberate.
Elena didn't blink.
"Well," she said, "sometimes polish hides cracks."
Celeste tilted her head. "You're very calm."
"I'm very used to being underestimated."
That one hit.
Celeste smirked. "Good luck at the gala. Everyone's dying to see the new Mrs. Black."
Elena smiled. "Then I hope they like surprises."
She didn't wait to be dismissed. She walked out.
---
That night, Aiden found her in the kitchen. She was barefoot. Drinking tea.
"You met Celeste," he said.
"Was that a test?"
"No," he said. "But I did wonder how you'd handle her."
"And?"
He took a slow breath. "You didn't flinch."
Elena sipped her tea. "You know, you surround yourself with people who test loyalty. But none of them seem to understand respect."
Aiden leaned against the counter. "You always speak like that?"
"Like what?"
"Like you're already ten steps past the game everyone else is playing."
She gave a small shrug. "Maybe I am."
He studied her. Not like an opponent. More like an equation he hadn't solved yet.
"Elena."
The way he said her name—it wasn't distant. It wasn't cold. It was soft, vulnerable.
It was careful.
"I don't regret that you're the one standing next to me," he said. "But I regret how it happened." he said softly looking deep Into her eyes,like he was looking into her soul.
Maybe he could see through me,she mused.
Her stomach pulled tight.
"That's not an apology," she said.
"No," he said. "It's not." he shook his head softly.
At least he was honest.
"I'll decide what to regret," she said quietly.
Then she set her mug down and left the room.
But this time, her pulse didn't race from fear or anger.
It raced because something was changing—and she didn't know what it meant yet.