Elara sat at her vanity, brushing out her hair slowly as the evening light bled through the curtains. The mug still sat beside her bed, smirking.
She hadn't touched it all day.
Didn't need to.
It had already wormed its way under her skin—not because she was embarrassed… but because it was so Zayden. So smug. So perfect in its quiet little jab.
He wanted a game?
She'd play chess while he was still playing checkers.
She stood up, picked up her phone, and made a call.
"Clara? I need a package delivered."
---
The next morning, at precisely 9:42 AM, Zayden's office fell completely silent.
Not because of a scandal.
But because of the enormous, immaculately wrapped box that had just arrived in the center of his top-floor penthouse office, delivered via private courier, sealed with an elegant silver "E" sticker.
His assistant, Mason, stood to the side with wide eyes. "Sir… I think it's from her."
Zayden raised one dark brow. "Obviously."
He stood, raven-black hair perfectly in place, wearing a charcoal shirt that made his grey eyes look colder than usual.
He walked over, peeled off the seal, and opened the lid.
Inside?
A framed photo.
Not of Elara.
Of him.
Zayden squinted.
It was a still image, screen-grabbed from a moment during the press conference—right after Elara had insulted him.
His expression?
Stunned. Eyebrow twitching. Smile just beginning to fade.
She had titled the photo in gold lettering beneath the frame:
> "When The Fox Got Bitten."
Underneath the photo was a note.
> Since you like memorabilia, I thought you might want to commemorate the moment someone didn't melt at your feet. Frame it. Hang it. Worship it.
— E.B.
Mason choked on a laugh and turned away to cough into his sleeve.
Zayden stared at the photo for another second… and then slowly… his lips curled.
"She's really doing this."
He placed the frame on his desk.
Front and center.
Next to his award for Entrepreneur of the Year.
---
Back in her room, Elara checked her phone again.
No response.
No comment.
No texts.
"Good," she muttered. "He's stewing."
Clara entered quietly with a tray. "Shall I place your tea, Miss?"
"Yes, please. And also—can you find out where I can order a life-size cardboard cutout of a fox?"
Clara blinked.
Elara just smiled sweetly. "Just in case I need to escalate."