The Rose He Showed Off Is Putting Down Roots in a Garden of Her Own novel Chapter 5

Zane kept his polite, unreadable smile firmly in place as he looked the gossiping woman up and down. "And which designer are you wearing tonight?"

The woman's mouth snapped shut. Had anyone else asked, she would have unleashed a barrage of defensive snark, but this was Zane Whitaker. Under his piercing gaze, her cheeks burned hot with embarrassment. Was he implying she was nothing but a petty, bitter gossip?

Dismissing her entirely, Zane shifted his focus back to the center of the ballroom. He deliberately stayed on the fringes of the crowd, melting into the shadows just so he could keep his eyes on Elara.

Just one more look.

Always just one more.

What was the true definition of love?

Was it stepping back and wishing her a lifetime of happiness because her heart belonged to someone else? Was it staying out of her orbit so as not to cause a ripple in her perfect life?

Or was it standing in the quiet shadows of a crowded room, just to steal a single, fleeting glance at her?

Even one glance was enough.

The moment Zane stepped out of the Sterling estate and into the crisp night air, he pulled out his phone and dialed Vivian Vance. He casually signaled his potential interest in acquiring Vance Properties. Regardless of whether he actually intended to buy it, simply throwing his name into the ring would instantly drive up the company's valuation and give the Vance family some much-needed breathing room.

Back inside the estate, the gala had finally ended, but Elara was seething.

It wasn't just the dress—it was the anchor's entire demeanor. Throughout the night, the woman had repeatedly locked eyes with Elara, flashing a smug, provocative smirk that bordered on open hostility. Elara couldn't fathom where a hired TV personality found the sheer audacity to challenge her in her own home.

Once the last guest had departed, Elara confronted her husband in the grand foyer. "Julian, I don't like that anchor. Make sure she isn't hired for any of our future events."

Usually, Julian would just offer a dismissive nod and accommodate such a trivial request.

Tonight, however, he shot her a look of pure irritation. "Why are you being so difficult? What exactly did she do to you?"

Elara froze, entirely caught off guard by his hostility. A wave of humiliation washed over her, followed by the familiar prickle of tears.

"Is this because my family is struggling?" she demanded, finally voicing the nightmare that had been haunting her. "Does that give you the right to treat me with such absolute disrespect?"

Julian's jaw clenched. "Do you have any idea how much pressure I am under? Stop trying to pick fights over nothing."

Over nothing?

Elara opened her mouth, but the sheer absurdity of his accusation left her speechless.

"You think I'm just being hysterical?"

"Just drop it. I don't want to hear it," Julian snapped, effectively shutting her down.

The utter impatience in his voice felt like a physical blow.

The flawless gala she had spent weeks agonizing over suddenly felt like a joke played at her expense.

When had he become this man? Cold, arrogant, and endlessly dictatorial. And when had she become this woman? Meek, desperate, and completely subjected to his shifting moods.

Just then, Julian's two aunts—his father's sisters—swept into the foyer. Elara hurriedly turned her head, blinking away the moisture in her eyes, and forced a bright, welcoming smile. "Aunt Beatrice, Aunt Clara," she greeted politely, instantly slipping back into the role of the impeccable Mrs. Sterling.

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