Chapter 27 – The Question of Forever
The media headlines faded.
The investigations quieted.
And Lena Cross? She pled guilty under pressure, her lawyers scrambling for leniency.
For once, Damian Voss was not the story.
Elara was.
And for the first time in her life, she was okay with being seen.
The gala celebrating Elara's appointment to the National Tech Ethics Board was smaller than she expected—invitation-only, hosted in the New York Library's rooftop garden.
She wore a silver silk gown, her hair twisted elegantly up, her father's cufflink woven into her bracelet.
Juliette adjusted her mic before introducing her. "From scandal to salvation, from pawn to queen—there's no one better to help shape this industry than the woman who survived it."
The applause was genuine.
But Elara only looked at one man as she took the stage.
And he was already standing.
Afterward, they slipped away to the balcony.
Damian loosened his tie, his eyes drinking her in. "You were brilliant."
She smirked. "And terrifying."
"Both."
They stood quietly as the city murmured below.
"I never thought I'd find peace in this world," she said.
"You didn't find it," Damian replied. "You built it."
She looked at him, her voice low. "And what do you want now, Damian Voss? Now that your empire has rebuilt and your mask is off?"
He took a breath.
Then reached into his jacket again.
This time, the box wasn't velvet.
It was a slim, simple envelope.
Her brows lifted as he handed it to her.
"Open it."
Inside: two one-way tickets to Corsica. A villa reservation for six months. A letter of resignation—his.
"I'm done chasing the next deal," he said. "I've spent half my life trying to outrun failure. And the other half trying to earn love by buying it."
"And now?"
"Now, I just want to live. To learn who I am without VossTech. Without legacy. Without fear."
Elara blinked back sudden tears. "You'd leave it all?"
"I'd leave everything except you."
The next morning, Damian stepped down publicly as CEO of VossTech.
Shockwaves rippled through the tech world.
But in a rare interview, he smiled and simply said:
"Sometimes, the bravest thing you can do is let go of the kingdom—so you can finally become a man."
Weeks later, their plane touched down in Corsica.
The villa was quiet, perched between cliffs and sea. No paparazzi. No scandals. Just sun and silence.
They cooked meals. They argued over novels. They walked barefoot through local markets.
They made love slowly—without fear, without masks, without power games.
And every morning, Damian watched her sleep like it was the first time.
One night, Elara found him on the terrace, staring at the moon.
"You okay?" she asked, wrapping her arms around him.
"I keep thinking," he murmured, "what if we'd never met?"
"We would've," she said softly. "We were always going to collide. You were the storm. I was the match."
He chuckled. "What a mess we made."
"And what a fire we lit."
Two months passed.
Then three.
One afternoon, Elara wandered into the villa garden to find Damian on one knee again—no audience, no fanfare, no ring.
Just him.
Just her.
"Elara Vale," he said, "will you marry me again?"
She blinked, stunned. "We're already married."
"That was a contract," he said. "This is a choice."
Her heart stuttered.
"I want to promise you everything," he continued, "but only if you promise me nothing in return. Because the truth is… loving you is no longer about survival. It's about joy."
Tears slipped silently down her cheeks.
"I choose you," she whispered. "This time, and every time after."
And when they kissed, the sea below thundered like applause.