“Stay near the kitchen or the restrooms,” he whispered. “Do not introduce yourself as my wife tonight. If anyone asks, tell them you work for the event.”
Elena stared at him.
Her fingers instinctively closed around the old silver necklace hanging from her neck.
It was shaped like half a sun, handmade decades ago.
Rosa had given it to Elena shortly before she died.
“You were found after a terrible fire thirty years ago,” Rosa had told her weakly from her hospital bed. “You had a burn scar on your collarbone… and this necklace clutched in your tiny hand.”
Those had always been Elena’s only clues about where she came from.
Inside the ballroom, Julian became a completely different man.
He smiled warmly.
Shook hands.
Laughed with powerful executives and wealthy investors.
Elena did as he had ordered and stayed near the dessert table, pretending not to notice that her husband refused to make eye contact with her.
Then the entire room suddenly quieted.
The owner of Whitmore Corporation had arrived.
Richard Kensington.
The seventy-two-year-old billionaire telecommunications magnate whose approval could launch a career—or end one.
Richard entered beside his older sister, Eleanor Kensington, with security several steps behind them.
Julian practically rushed across the room.
“Mr. Kensington,” he said breathlessly. “What an incredible honor.”
Richard shook his hand without much enthusiasm.
“I was told you brought your wife tonight.”
Julian stiffened.
“Yes, sir. She’s… around somewhere. She’s shy. Not used to this world.”
Reluctantly, he motioned Elena forward.
She approached with her shoulders straight, despite the humiliation burning inside her.
“Elena, this is Mr. Kensington,” Julian said quickly. “Elena is… helping with the event.”
Elena politely extended her hand.
Richard didn’t take it.
His eyes had locked onto the necklace around her neck.
The color disappeared from his face.
Beside him, Eleanor gasped and covered her mouth.
Julian laughed nervously.
